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hoshigray · 2 months

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𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐙 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Everyone knows you are Toji's favorite stripper. So, it's no surprise that he'd want to have you to himself for a night at the V.I.P. section, not that you're complaining.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x stripper fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sex at a public place; strip club V.I.P. room - kissing/making out - oral (m! + f! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking + heavy depiction of a blowjob - slight anal fingering (f! receiving) - orgasm denial - impact play (spanking + f! receiving) - sir kink - reverse oral + backshots positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - pet names (angel, baby, good girl, mama, sweetheart, sweetie) - cameos: Miguel, Mei Mei and Ino (stripper, manager and DJ) - mentions of spit/saliva.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: yesssss, finally, a piece for toji !! this was based on a request/scenario that had me thinking about this prompt a lot afterward, so I'm glad I got the time to go more into the story with this c: enjoyyyy !!

“Toji! Back here like you said?”

“Yup, just as promised. It’s Saturday, after all.”

“Mmm, I see. Right this way, please; Lady Mei is waiting for you right there..”

Tonight is Saturday night, the middle of the weekend. How Toji spends his weekends comes and goes, depending on how much cash his pockets are willing to withdraw. Luckily, his stacks are ready for whatever this night has in store for him. And since he’s walking down in a strip club right now, you can guess he’s prepared for something grand.

Saturdays tend to be one of the busiest nights – if not Fridays. The vibrating bass from the speakers could be felt in his bones, music getting people bumping and grinding by the DJ booth. Crowds swarm the bar to grab their drinks – and perhaps flirt with the bartender – as the special menus catch their eyes. And, of course, the wolf whistles and exclaimed shouts of men and women fill the open area where the dancers give the clients a night of promised fun.

Toji’s guided by one of the male strippers to the back of the club that transitions to the upstairs. By the stairwell, he sees a woman with silverish, pale-blue braided hair, wearing a white cold-shoulder blouse and a long black pencil skirt that emphasizes her hips nicely. Lilac eyes flicker in his direction, and her red lips curl into a smile.

“Thank you, Miguel.” Mei Mei greets and dismisses the male entertainer in the same breath, watching him bow and return to his business, leaving the woman with Toji. “Well, well, well. I’m sure you’ve been waiting for this moment all day.”

“Ever since ya called me this morning, Lady Mei.” The older man refers to her by her business name with a smirk and a tilt of his head. “So, they’re on board?”

She nods. “That would be the reason I gave you the call, no? The money you brought goes straight to them after this, and they said there’s no need to tip them extra.”

He snickers. “That I can’t promise; I always gotta tip my favorite girl for their service. They treat me right, and I do the same.”

“Good service means good tips, Mr. Fushiguro. Please, follow me; they’re waiting for you.”

As far as clubs go, this one was undoubtedly one of Toji’s spots to come to. Here, he can trust that he can have a good time and get his money’s worth with every visit. Good drinks from the bar from that Nanami guy; that rookie DJ, Ino, who likes to humor the older man whenever he’s off his set; and all the entertainers who know of Toji from his frequent visits, all good people that ensure he’s relaxed and welcomed, whether it be service from them or chit-chat on the side between sessions.

But let’s not beat around the bush here; Toji won’t lie and say he doesn’t have favorites — or else why would he be here? There had to be a reason this bulky man comes back for more, and having him known as a loyal customer by the staff of this place and their clients.

The reason is that out of all the people here, Toji does have a favorite. This favored person is who’s making this man willingly follow the manager up the stairs and walk through the hallway. Only those worth his respect and time could have him do that.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been up here, so let me re-specify,” Mei Mei speaks, ignoring the faint howls of men and women from behind the doors they walk past. “This is V.I.P., meaning people pay extra just to have the room to themselves and my dancers. The rules downstairs apply upstairs…Well, except for today with—“

“Me and them, right?” See? He's listening.

Mei Mei hums. “You two are scheduled for two hours. Food and drinks can be brought up here, but absolutely no messes whatsoever. I don’t care what you two do in there — all I ask is that you two clean up after yourselves.” She stops at the last door of the hallway on the right. “And as for you, since no one is up here to get in the way of you two, no breaking stuff. You break it, you pay for it.” She pauses when he nods.

“I won’t.” Forest green eyes stay on her as a dark brow rises.

“Especially on my girl tonight.” Lavender orbs narrow faintly. “I don’t want to see so much as a scratch on them. Otherwise, your account won’t be the only thing I’ll have dropped in the negatives. Am I clear?”

“Crystal. Not doin’ anything they don’t wanna do.”

A curt nod to his response, extending her hand out to him. “Their cash?”

Without hesitation, Toji slings the bag he carried on his shoulder to hand to the manager. She holds and unzips it to check the contents, and the smile on her face gets bigger before she peers back at him.

“Enjoy yourself, Mr. Fushiguro,” she zips the bag and excuses herself before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be too rough.” Toji eyes at her slender fingers sliding away, and the clack of her heels drew further and further away, clicking on the stairs to join the lively bunch down below.

Toji’s eyes examine the door before him but can’t seem to fight the sneer molding into his face. He cracks his knuckle and neck before taking a moment to himself for a deep breath. There’s something in this room that ignites his excitement before it can skyrocket, and it gets a little difficult to contain it once he turns the doorknob.

The V.I.P. rooms are all set up the same: to his right was a single booth seat from one side of the room to the other, a circle table centered by the furniture. The ceiling lights can be dimmed or dialed up, but the ones here were dimmed to a warm glow, which was pleasing and subtly set the mood with the soft white LED lights behind the booth. And the temperature felt just right, prompting the older man to remove his jacket.

Although he appreciates the change of atmosphere, Toji doesn’t mind what mood the room is set in — because he didn’t come here for that. He came for whatever caught his attention the moment he walked in. The smirk on his face brought the scar on the right side of his lips upright.

To his right stood a mini stage where a silver pole comes from the center to the top of the ceiling; the light from the mounted full-length mirror on the wall casts a silhouette of something slinging around the pole. Or better yet, on someone. Alas, the person he’s longed to see this entire night is before him. Y/n, Toji’s favorite stripper, was in his sights.

You maneuver around the pole and drift your limbs through the air. Elegant motions perceived by Toji alone, daring not to say anything until you noticed him. And when you do, your eyes lock in on him, and your lips twinge into a smile. Fate was sealed, and the evening for you two had finally begun.

“Toji,” he loved how you said his name. You skillfully transition from a recliner move to a pole sit. “You made it; worried you’d have cold feet on me.”

“And miss seeing you tonight?” He strides in your direction before throwing his jacket to the booth seat, his feet stopping at the steps of your stage. He takes this chance to observe what you picked to wear tonight, elated knowing that you chose one of his favorite looks. “Not a chance.”

Your makeup was the first thing that caught his eye; pink and blue eyeshadow blended perfectly well and compliment your skin, aided with glossy lipstick that entices him. There were rhinestones added at the corner and lids of your eyes, making them shine more with the lighting. Since it’s just the two of you tonight, you opted to show more skin than usual. You wore a white, long-sleeved mesh shirt that had your chest area open, exposing the black laced bra that hugged your breasts nicely. White fishnet pantyhose that comes to your upper thigh, gartered to your lacy, black underwear. And to complete the look, transparent ultra-high heels. You were dolled up — just for him.

Your smile broadens — the brightest thing in the room to him. “That’s so sweet. Please take a seat and let me warm things up, okay?” And you continue back with your routine, swinging on the pole in the ballerina move. Your movements were effortlessly beautiful. Captivating to watch you operate your body around the item and your hand gracefully float around the air as you swing.

But then you come to a stop, finding that Toji is now on the stage and taking your hand in his. Emerald eyes instantly capture yours as his fingers intertwine with yours.

“No need to warm up,” he says in a low tone, as if the music around the room wasn’t already lowered enough for you two to speak normally. His face inches closer to yours, and your breathing becomes slow. “I’ve been waitin’ for this all night.”

His abrupt change was kind of shocking as he’s never one to switch up your procedure. But you don’t take it to heart because you understand, offering him a small smile before your eyes drift to his lips coming to yours. “Impatient much, huh?”

“That’s what happens when ya spoil me all the time,” he jests before a hand comes to your cheek, bringing his lips to yours for an awaited kiss.

You two kiss with slow pecks, waiting for someone to make the first move. And Toji’s the one to do it, licking your bottom lip and playfully nibbling it. You titter faintly, opening your mouth to permit him to insert his tongue inside and play with yours. And you moan to him when he sucks and teases yours with his teeth.

Toji’s hand on your cheek goes to the back of your neck, wanting to keep the kiss in contact. And you follow suit, carefully placing your hands on his shoulders one by one from the pole. To hope you don’t fall, his other hand comes to your back for assistance. Yet your legs are still tightly wrapped around the metal pole.

He breaks the kiss to see for himself, chortling at the display. And you beam at him, using your finger to drag his raven bangs along his forehead. “Spoiling you, huh?” You inquire, kissing his nose. “With how this night is set up, we’ll have to see who’s treating who.”

He liked the sound of that. “Two hours to make it count, then.”

You wink. “Two hours.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“—Mmph…! Hoohh, fuck, that tongue…keep swirlin’ like that…”

“Nnmm…enjoying yourself there?”

“Heh, keep teasing’ me like that, and we��ll see what happens, Y/n…Hmmm…”

Toji sits on the booth seat with his denim-clad legs spread out for you to crouch in between. Your hand snakes inside his shirt; the dent of his abs is sensed by your fingertips. And the free one is gliding up and down the exposed erection that’s out for your very eyes to see.

Oh, fuck, this was a sight to see: crouching in front of your favorite client, having his cock in your very grasp. The limb is so big and girthy that it drives you crazy just marveling at it, and the twitch of your chasm below refuses to calm down. Every slow pump urges a bit of precum to slip out the urethra, and you gasp faintly at the contact of the substance staining your pretty nails. Shit, from his veins to the delicious tip, it’s been so long since you’ve seen a dick this oddly gorgeous.

Hell, it’s been a long while since you’ve given head. And, holy fuck, it felt too good doing it right now — especially with a dick as mouthwatering as Toji’s. You started with slow licks to the cockhead and kisses to the frenulum, evoking hushed grunts from the older man; sounds you love entering your eardrums, pushing you to want more. Slow laps gradually lose to adventurous curiosity as you take in every inch of his length til the hilt meets your lips, humming at the sensation of him filling your throat.

You suck on his shaft with glee, swirling your tongue on the underside with every bob to the mouth. And your hand still moves to please him, your fingers eventually finding his balls to give them a knead. A hiss leaves scarred lips, and he grabs for the top of your head. Oh, he’s definitely loving this.

“Hshhh, shiiit, just like that, baby,” the pet name makes you mewl; he said it so hot. “Fuuuck, y’re so good.”

“Mmmm…Phuaa!” You release his girth from your lips, attacking the sensitive head with teasing licks, rubbing the limb on your face while placing chaste kisses. God, he loved how beautifully dirty you were being. “Hnnmm, yo’ thwink so…?”

Talking with your mouth full results in a laugh from Toji. “Fuck yeah; barely hangin’ on right now…Oh shit,” he shouldn’t have said that because you kiss his shaft down to his balls, sucking one into your mouth to have the man almost choke on his spit. “Hmng…!! Oh, shit, shit, I’m gonna cum, mama. Take me back in, Y/n—Ahhh!”

No can do! Because you immediately remove yourself from him, standing on your toes and walking backward. Observing the genuine staggered expression on Toji has you giggling, making him sneer in return. “You fuckin’ tease.”

“Come on now; you gotta do your part as well, you know.” You turn to crawl atop the stage, your hands on the pole while swaying your ass to the side. You know he’s watching, feeling his green eyes boring holes into your being. Knowing you’re being desired like this turns you on even more.

Toji wastes no time, marching towards your ass with a hungry grin. Rough fingers come to your underwear, bringing it down with ease, biting his lip at the wet display of your cunt. “Oh, aren’t you a pretty thing, huh.”

You titter, shivers crawling up your spine when his thumbs spread your folds to expose your bare vagina. You grab hold of the pole for preparation. “Please be delicate with me.”

He blows on your cunt, and you take a sharp breath. “After that lil’ stunt of y’rs a few seconds ago? You better hold on to that thing tight.” Toji gives your wetness a tantalizingly slow lick, taking in every shudder of your body. “Hnnm, taste good…”

His hands find your waist and then stuffs his face to your ass, his lips and tongue going to work and sucking in your liquids. You cry out, gripping the pole as soon as you feel a flick to your clit. Your eyes instinctively shut, and your arch elates to bring your butt closer to him.

Toji’s strong hold on you aids him in making sure you don’t get away from him; your soapy slit is right where he wants it, and he doesn’t plan on letting go. His tongue hurries through your labia, and your essence coats his tastebuds. You moan out loud at the feeling of the muscle pushing to the entrance, your hips jerking with his nose bumping close to your taint.

“Ahaaa, ohh Jesus, yesss,” your words come out in pretty wails. “Yess, Toji, ‘eel so good…”

He hears and gives you another taunting lick from your clit to the vagina. This time, he notes your ass jolt when he comes close to your asshole. And he can’t fight his mischievous soul, bringing his tongue ever so slowly to it for you to gasp and realize what he’s doing.

“W–Wait, no, Tojiii!” You whine. Fuck, you sounded so cute. “Not there, please…!”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” He brings a thumb to lather it with spit before pressing it to your anus. The choked sob erupting from you has him tingle, pushing the digit further in. “Don’t want me playin’ with this?”

“—Hnnff! Noooo, stop, that’s—Mmmm!” Goddamn, how could someone look so good while whining like this? Oh, he could never get enough of you before. Now, this little infatuation for you could dwell into an obsession if you keep batting your hooded eyes at him like that. “That's dirty…!”

He shakes his head with a prurient leer and trenched brows. “Don’t worry, angel; I like dirty.” You gulped. That’s not what I meant! “Be dirty fr’ me, ‘kay? Wanna see it all...” Toji brings his face back to your southern lips, sucking and licking in an excitable fashion that has you trying so hard not to scream (even if the walls are supposedly soundproof).

It’s here that you give up and have your face meet the floor of the stage, sinking into the feeling of Toji ravishing your cunt to feast on your come entirely. You can shake and try to move your hips all you want, but it won’t work; Toji will instantly shut you down and shove his mouth right back to your folds. And with his thumb scraping the walls of your tight asshole, chewing your lips does nothing to suppress the haze.

“Hohhh, hnmm, oh my God, Ohhh…!” A hand finds its way to Toji’s wrist, holding onto it to prepare for what’s bound to happen. “Haaah, I’m about to cum…Please, like that, keep going…Oooo!!”

Nope. He doesn’t let you off the hook, withdrawing his face and thumb away from you, and the climb of your promised orgasm dissipates in seconds. You turn to him with an albeit hurt expression, expectedly being met with a smug look on his handsome face. “Hahhh, so mean…”

“Oh, I know y’re not talking, sweetheart.” Toji removes and discards your underwear somewhere across the room, giving your bare ass a playful smack to which you faux cry in pain with laughs. He then picks you up bridal style and walks you back to the couch, your face gently placed on the furniture with your buttocks up in front of him. He brings the tip of his cock to kiss your labia. “Ya ready?” You nod to him hurriedly with bitten lips of glee. All he wants to do is grab you by the chin and kiss the hell out of you. “Nice and slow fr’ ya, sweetie.”

Your breath hitches at Toji’s glans being pushed into you, using your slick and his saliva to lubricate himself for easy access. Your hands grip the booth seat with every push of him, and you gasp loudly at the insertion of his tip. The subtle pain declined in mere seconds before being raptured by the sensation of his girth stretching you. Your body quakes by the time his pelvis meets the flesh of your ass, unable to contain the pants of air leaving your lips.

Toji moves his hips tremendously slowly, making you feel every bit of him. Holy shit, it’s been a while having a living, breathing dick inside you. The indistinct dents grazing your entrance with every push and pull, the veins scraping along your inner walls ever feels so fucking good, and his tip jabbing so deep inside you. Jesus Christ, you can’t blame your slit clamping onto him; he feels so good!

“Hmm? Ya like that, baby?”And Toji can tell, grinding his hips, stimulating a shaky howl. “Y’re grippin’ on me like crazy.”

“Ahhaaa, fuhuuuck, you feel so good, Toji,” you hum, gnawing on your lips as his pace goes faster by the second. Yes, yes! “Ohhhh, ’m so full…!”

He comes down to lick on the helix of your ear. His voice being so close to you has you clamping onto him harder. “Fuuck, that grip…Just stay like this fr’ me, all nice and pretty. Can ya do that?”

“Yesss, sir.”

Oh, that title sparked something within him. The snicker to your ear had you swooned. “Keep callin’ me that.”

You giggle softly. “Of course, sir—Rrryahhh!!” He didn’t warn you when he started bucking his hips unexpectedly.

Strokes to your cunt became quick, the sensation of him becoming rushed for your senses to comprehend after each thrust. The sounds of skin smacking against each other fill the space between you, and the heat transferring from your warm bodies is given in quick exchanges.

It doesn’t take long for your head to be thrown into a daze, your eyes shot up to the stars with every jab to your sensitive spots. Restraint is held by a thread, finding it strenuous to keep your voice down to a respectable volume. Your fingernails leave crescents on the booth seat beneath you as Toji drives his length into you.

“—Ohhh! Fuuuu, oh shit, Tojiii, slow d—Owwhhn!!” He slaps your ass, an action you couldn’t foretell, and prevent a shriek from leaving your mouth.

“Not ‘Toji’ right now,” he corrects you, grinding his pelvis again to scrape your walls to the point of wails. Gripping your ass like a toy, “What do you call me?”

“Mmmph!! I’m sorry, sir; forgive me…!” Another smack and the pain stings the skin to the point your eyes water.

“Good girl,” he��s satisfied, coming down to place kisses on your shoulder and travel down your back.

Toji straightens at the sight before him, taking in every detail of the situation. Having his favorite stripper be a whimpering mess for him: your mouth agape for cute sounds to fly out, the motion of your ass cheeks bouncing with every rut of him, and his dick digging into your alluring body. Fuck, if only he could take a picture of this. But thankfully, he still has another hour and a half to go — an hour and a half to indulge himself more with you. He paid good money for this, so he’ll make it worth every cent.

“Hey, mama,” he comes down to cup your face with his right hand, bringing you in for a hot kiss. You happily reciprocate, allowing him access and sucking his tongue with a mewl.

The kiss has him drink your high-pitched huffs while his tempo increases to an irregular speed. Your eyes screwed shut at the pacing; the feeling of his girth filling you so much is fucking crazy. Your head begins to pound with the heat that spreads across your face, and your brain gradually churns to mush as you can sense the climb of your climax.

“—Shhhiiit, oh shiit!!” You pule with the trembles crawling up to your shoulders, a tiny streak of drool coming down from the corner of your lips. “F–Fhhh, I’m gonna cum, sir! Please, let me cummm…!”

“Hhhck!! Fuck, me too,” he confesses in between kisses. “Lemme finish here...” Toji sneaks a hand down to your lower region, his forefinger grazing your clitoris that was left unattended throughout this time. Until now. “Cum on me, angel. Let loose…”

The rough pads of his fingers swipe on your clit; your eyes widen at the action and force you to break the kiss. Your moans come out from his swipes and pinches on your delicate bud, and the growth of your orgasm ascends tenfold. Oh fuck, it’s coming, I’m— “Ohh–Ohoooo!!”

And then it hits you; the walls of your cunt clamp around Toji tightly, making the older man groan at the fluttering contraction. So engulfed with how good you feel that it prompts him to spill his load into you. But he doesn’t stop jerking his hips, smacking his cock into your sensitive chasm until he knows every drop of his ejaculation is pumped deep inside you.

Toji brings his body down to your heaving one, your breathing synced with his as you two let your pleasurable highs subside. When things feel as though they’ve calmed down, he’ll bury his face in the crook of your neck and place kisses while rubbing your ass. You hum to his touch, deep exhales seeping through your nostrils.

“Mmmm, that was good,” he says to your skin before lifting his face to examine you properly, removing his length from your cunt and watching the trail of his come ooze out. “Heh, fuck that’s crazy…Ready for another round, sweetheart?”

Of course, you laugh at that. “Well, sir, if you’d like to go again, please be sure to use the condoms this time. I wouldn’t like Mei Mei to come here and murder us for not cleaning after ourselves.”

He lifts a brow. “Condoms?”

You point with your chin to the table at the booth center, noting the silver tray that displayed items for this occasion. Towels, water bottles, and, of course, packets of rubbers that were meant to be used.

Toji blinks, and then a fit of laughter bubbles inside him. “Well, now I know. But I don’t see the point since I already fucked you raw. Already spoiled the fun for ya.”

You shrug with a smile, standing up to grab the towel to wipe yourself. “Boss’ orders.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he obliges with a kiss on your cheek before he shifts to lie on the couch. He discards his jeans and drawls, spreading his strong legs to showcase his member standing strong. He pats on his thigh, “Get y’r cute ass over here.”

You beam at him, grabbing for a wrapper and tearing it up to release a condom. “Yes, sir~.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“And so? You two cleaned up everything?”

“Yup, made sure it was all clean and neat the way it was before.”

“Good. Because I had a meeting in that room this morning, and neither my client nor I would like to have the smell of sex fill our conversation. Or seeing a condom wrapper on the floor.”

“Hehe, well, I hoped you checked under the seats. He’d probably be sneaky enough to kick at least one down there.”

“Oh, you’re such a little…” Your manager doesn’t finish that sentence and hits you on the head with a makeup brush, resulting in a strong laugh from you.

Tonight was the following night after that event. You’re now in the dressing room, adding finishing touches to your make-up before you can go out to perform for the last day of the weekend. Mei Mei was with you, helping you fix yourself since she likes to help her performers feel at the top of their game. Also, as your friend, she wanted to hear the details of what transpired last night.

“That man, I swear…” She says while looking at you through the vanity mirror, surveying your last touches to your brows and eyelids. “I knew he was whipped for you since the first time you danced for him. Now that you two finally did the deed, I can only imagine how much he’d do for you…Ugh, I’ll need to hire security specifically for him.”

The remark has you laughing some more. “Oh, stop it. I’m sure he knows better than to flip this place down.”

“Hmmm, you sure about that?” Silver brows go upward. “Considering the fact that we’ve had multiple close calls with him and other customers, scaring your clients when they’re not out of his seat – not to mention breaking someone’s arm for you – it’s not far out to imagine this man throwing shit and bodies all over if someone so much looks at you, especially now that he got his dick wet. Oh, he’s smitten.”

You shake your head throughout her explanation with a smile, knowing that it’s all semi-true. “Guess that’s men for you, huh?”

“Don’t I know it.” She scoffs, using this small time with you to braid her hair into two pigtails. “…You do like him, right?”

The question doesn’t take you aback, not showing any expression of shock while continuing to fix the straps of your pink bra under your mesh shirt. “Yeah…I think so. He’s one of my—“

“One of?”

You roll your eyes at your manager egging you on. “Okay. He is my favorite client. I think he’s a good company; plus, he pays a good amount of money to see me.”

“Oh? Was it the money that’s always made your heart thump? I wonder…” Mei Mei doesn’t try to suppress the smirk growing on her face, aware that you’re meekly glaring at her. She grabs for your lipstick to apply to her lips. “Maybe it never was because I can recall you telling me how hot you found you the first time. Hmph, maybe now that’s dialed up since you’ve been slapped with some good dick—“

“Okay, okay!” God, you couldn’t stand her sinister chuckle, precisely when it’s directed towards you.

“I’m just teasing~. I’m happy that you two are getting along, really.” She straightens up to examine her whole figure now that she’s done. “But he’s still one of my customers at the end of the day, and you one of my people. Money on the table or not, I won’t tolerate if he does anything to inconvenience me or you.”

The sincerity in Mei Mei’s words wasn’t hard to grasp. After all, she was doing what any good boss would do. As well as your friend above anything else. And you appreciated it. “I know. You’ll be the first I run to if stuff goes left.”

The silver-haired woman gave a genuine smile and nodded, placing a hand on your shoulder to clutch before excusing herself from the dressing room. “See you out there; I have another meeting with a priest from the other side of the neighborhood.”

You gawk. “A priest? Is he here to be serviced?”

“Nope, but if he keeps getting in the way of my business, I just might have to make some phone calls and endow my other services to deal with him.” Your blood shifted to ice cold at that sentence. Mei Mei is your friend by all means; however, that didn’t diminish how scary that woman can be sometimes.

She opens the door and closes it behind her, leaving you alone to finish up. You stand up from your seat and maneuver around to admire tonight’s outfit choice. A mesh shirt that showcased your pink bra and black pantyhose that contrasted with your pink undies. Now, all you need to do is go to your locker and find whatever shoes to match and—

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Yo, Y/n?” It was Ino’s voice. He doesn’t come inside the room but creaks the door for you to hear him. “Sorry, but someone wishes to speak with you.”

Huh, someone wants to see me? “Oh, okay. Tell them to wait for me by the door.”

“Sure thing!” And then the young DJ closes the door, and you decide the shoes can wait for later. Giving yourself a look or two in the mirror, you walk up to the door and pull it open to see who wishes to see you. Only to find that the person is standing in front of the doorway.

It was Toji, standing tall and greets you with a smirk once you entered his vision. The mild anxiousness from a few seconds was gone, exchanging it for a smile. “Hey,” he said it cooly.

“Hi,” you return the greeting, watching him step closer to you to lean against the doorframe. “You just got here?”

“Mhmm, didn’t have much to do, so I figured I’d come before things are about to pick up.” Toji brings his face to yours, daring to give your lips a peck. And you allow it, kissing his scar when he draws back. “I thought last night was fun.”

“Me too,” you whisper back to him before he kisses your neck. “I’d like to have fun like that with you sometime. You know, not during business hours and such.”

He quirks up a brow. “Yeah? Hmm, me too.” He puts his forehead to yours, his hands snaking around your waist to bring you two together. “I’d love to have you around somewhere.”

You hum, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck. “That’d be nice.”

“…But I’d also love to fuck the hell outta you like last time.” His honesty has you erupting in laughter, and your sweet voice has him grinning. “I’m serious; you drove me crazy last time. Pussy like that can’t be shared, I’m sorry—”

“Oh, my God, stop!” You try to get out of his hold, even if your laughs get louder when he tightens his grip on you. “Drove you crazy, huh?” You peer to see him nod before kissing his chin. “Well, I got a few minutes before I go out there…Want me to suck you off?”

Did you even have to ask? The man immediately leers from ear to ear, taking your wrist and pulling you back into the dressing room. And you allow him with a laugh, making sure to lock the door before the thought of getting caught fills your mind.

“Good thing you caught me dressing,” you say as he sits on the couch from across the dressing room, and you crouch between his legs. You pull down his zipper, “This one’s free of charge.”

And he shifts comfortably, taking off his jacket to discard. “Lucky me.”

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ssahotchnerr · 2 months

Note

okay but when the team actually starts calling the reader and aaron mom and dad behind their backs and one day someone lets it slip out in front of them??

i just… aaron’s reaction?????

the parentals

i love this dynamic SO MUCH cw; fem!bau!reader, established relationship, fluff <3

as you and aaron entered the bullpen, you were both quick to notice the others huddled around spencer's desk, surely for a new session of physics magic.

a smile immediately twitched at aaron's lips, tossing you a mischievous look. as long as it didn't make a mess, or a disruption - per his and reid's previous discussions - he really didn't mind the recurring demonstrations.

but would he ever miss an opportunity to get the blood rushing in this scenario - never.

"be nice." you teased, laughing softly under your breath as you followed him over.

"i'm always nice." aaron playfully insisted, those brown eyes flickering in that way that just melted your heart. "what do you mean?"

"better be careful," emily's warning came into earshot as you neared, completely oblivious to the two of you - the timing just perfect. "or else dad's gonna ground you."

aaron's expression quirked at the title, his eyebrows lightly furrowing.

"oh please," spencer said, his fingers making quick work of whatever the experiment happened to be. "he's too busy with mom-"

jj's eyes happened to lift right at mom, made direct eye contact with you, and immediately choked back a laugh. some horror timidly filled her eyes, and she didn't cover up her sound too adequately. it caused the others to instantly look up too, and freeze.

"busted." jj mumbled, her gaze finding the ground.

aaron's smile resurfaced, crossing his arms. his tone was playful, yet confused and utterly amused nonetheless. "dad?"

spencer flushed. "uh..."

"oh c'mon. cut the crap." emily interrupted with an eye roll, looking between the two of you. "like it's not shocking at this point. just look at what the two of you were about to do, lecture us-"

"hey no," with a laugh you cut in, arching an eyebrow. "i don't lecture."

"exactly. he does," emily crossed her arms also with a smitten smirk - her point thoroughly exhibited. "you're the flexible one. see, mom and dad."

"i always thought rossi was dad." aaron expressed openly, a small chuckle shaking through his chest.

"no, you were always dad," jj shook her head, "rossi was mom, until," once again, her eyes found yours, smiling softly this time. "until someone else came around, and took on the role wholeheartedly."

you grinned, exchanging a quick, loving glance with aaron. "what's dave now, then?"

"old."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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osaemu · 5 months

Text

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ SHE GOT MY HEARTBEAT SKIPPIN' DOWN 16TH AVENUE! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: he's always so confident and self-assured, but a couple kisses from you and he turns into a mess.

contents: fem!reader. kinda suggestive ending (inumaki's comment). you spend half the fic making out lolll anyways we love flustered gojo he's so precious <3 tagging @rinniessance and @rizsu to see streamer!gojo's latest shenanigans :3

author's note: this one was requested and i rly liked the idea sooo yea. i wrote it. shocking right?! anyways thank u guys for all the streamer!gojo requests, saves me the effort of having to think of plots ꨄ︎

"baby, what time is it?" satoru mumbles against your lips, holding you in place on his lap. the two of you are seated on his plush chair in front of his computer, and you've been kissing like teenagers for the last... hour? or two?

satoru tilts his head in to kiss you again, soft lips gently pressing against yours for the thousandth time. his hands roam over your body, and one rests on your waist while the other reaches around you into your back pocket. his eyes flutter open when he feels your phone, and he turns his head briefly to sneak a glance at the time.

"shit, i gotta start the stream in two minutes," satoru mutters. he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and leans back, azure eyes drinking in your heated cheeks and fluttering eyes. a smug smile slowly grows on his lips as you look away.

"aw, d'you want more?" he cooes, reaching out and touching the side of your face. satoru gently pushes your face back in his direction, moving his slender fingers to your chin and holding it in place. you're all sweet and flustered in the aftermath of your makeout session, and every time he sees you like this, another part of his heart surrenders itself to you.

you nod bashfully, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you feel satoru's grip on your chin tighten. he pulls you in for another long, minty kiss, and you feel him smile against your lips. his hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck as he hugs you against his chest, which rises and falls in sync with yours.

"you're so cute," he murmurs in between kisses, eyes flickering back and forth from you to the time. "c'mon, honey, we have a minu—"

you cut him off with another kiss, which catches him off guard—usually he's the one leaning in. but no, you had to take him by surprise and throw him off his game. the little hm? that slips out of his lips when you kiss him causes satoru to go redder than you've ever seen him.

seeing satoru embarrassed is rare—he's so cocky and confident that embarrassment is basically unheard of, but in this moment, you've got him. he laughs nervously when you pull away, wide eyes looking everywhere but at you and your cheeky smile.

you reach up and grab his chin, tugging it in your direction the same way he did earlier. "you know exactly what you're doing," satoru mumbles, pulling you closer and burying his face into your neck.

"i have no idea what you're talking about," you reply smugly, kissing the side of his face. "don't you have a stream to be starting soon?"

satoru looks up instantly and groans when he sees the time—it's a minute past his start time, and that could cost him a couple hundred viewers. you laugh as you hop off his lap and into his bed, curling up under his sheets as you watch him scramble to start the live.

"love you, 'toru," you call, wrapping your arms around one of his pillows.

after a second, he turns around, a loading sign on his screen. "love you too, baby," satoru replies, face still noticably red. you blow him a kiss and watch as he pretends to faint in an attempt to hide his childish grin.

a soft ding then signals him that he's about to be live, so satoru spins his chair around to face his computer. he forces his usual collected smile onto his face and starts, "hey, everyone. sorry for the delay, just got... held up with something."

inumaki: u look like a tomato LMAO

yuuji-itadori: yea ur really red, are u ok?

satoru looks away, mumbling something about how it's just the lighting that's making his face look red. naturally, everyone disagrees and starts speculating as to why he seems off his game today, and eventually, someone gets it.

megumi-fushiguro: he always looks like that everytime he sees his gf wdym

inumaki: WAIT THATS IT

inumaki: he was def doin unspeakable things with his gf just two seconds ago. trust

you can't suppress the small laugh that escapes your lips when satoru stumbles over his words at the comments, face redder than ever. "a-anyways, today i'm gonna— hold on," he cuts himself off by looking down at his phone, where a text notification from you had popped up.

love of my life: ur so cute :(

love of my life: but get ur shit together

love of my life: im the only one who gets to see u like that (¬_¬)

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peachsayshi · 1 year

Text

cc x·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ thinking about...reader trying to break up with yandere gojo

minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: yandere; dub con; lovesick gojo & he’s obsessive/toxic about it; he’s mean but yummy, okay?; size kink (ish?); gojo showing off his strength; sex without protection

notes: I had this written as an idea right after I wrote my hc’s for the jjk men in their yandere version. twylm readers, please forgive me for not posting the next chapter. I am working on it but I am really struggling - I had the worst burn out after the last chapter, and have been having a hard time trying to get back into the story >.<

wc: 1,228

gojo plays with the hem of your skirt - the flat expression on his face telling you that he’s listening but appears unbothered by your statement. you can see the annoyance in his eyes, the irritation that you would say something so ridiculous in the middle of a make out session.

his hands find the back of your thighs and with one swift motion he pulls you over his long legs so you’re hovering above his lap. the imbalance forces you to clutch onto his shirt with frustration, and he mindlessly reaches to undo his belt before tugging your underwear aside with his long, slender digits.

“toru, are you listening to me?” you whisper in a small voice.

“you want to take a break?” he repeats calmly, but those last two words are laced with disgust, barely slipping through his clenched teeth, and he lowers you down just enough for him to press the tip of his swollen cock against your slit.

“I need to slow things down...” you breathe, lashes fluttering at the sensation from the contact.

your thighs naturally start to tense up when he holds you there, and the pads of his fingers dig roughly into your hip to keep you in place. you hiss against the harsh touch, gazing down to find your lover pouting at you like a disappointed child.

any stranger would consider this an adorable expression with the way his big eyes widen while his brows upturn sorrowfully.

to you, however, it was an entirely different message.

“are you unhappy?” he asks, his words weighed down by hurt.

a warm sensation travels up your calves as you try to maintain the pose and you shake your head no while squeezing him gently with reassurance. satoru flickers his attention back to the point of contact. your pelvis feels tight from holding this awkward position, and the ache to have him inside you naturally makes the space between your legs pulse with need.

satoru gojo has given you everything and more. there is no reason for you to be unhappy.

he made sure of that.

“okay,” he confirms with a sigh, one palm moving to grope the curve of your ass while the other stabilizes your leg as he draws you down his length. “do you not love me?”

a hard lump forms in your throat.

you’re careful never to actually say those words to him.

satoru’s devotion consumes your entire your soul - you can’t help but feel like you would be making a deal with a devil if you decided to admit your true feelings.

you managed to keep his peace of mind this far by reassuring him with deep, promising kisses and strong acknowledgements of his feelings.

technically you aren’t lying, but the reality is that you’re afraid to love him...and of what your love does to him.

giving him another silent reply, you nod your head as your fear creeps up the back of your spine. the only relief you find is the stretch between your legs, and your lips part into a circle as satoru gives himself to you inch by glorious inch.

your skirt flaps over you both, concealing him buried inside you. he arches forward to kiss your jaw, his large hands finding your breasts and he massages them over your fitted tank.

he delicately trails his fingers down your waist to latch onto your hips once more. “then why...” he murmurs into your neck, “do you want to take a break?”

your hand finds the back of his head, a moan leaving your parted lips when you feel him lick a stripe up the column before lightly nipping at your earlobe.

“it’s just...” you gasp, feeling flowers of heat bloom in all the places he’s touching you, “I just feel like we are getting ahead of o-ourselves..ah...”

he rocks your hips back and forth, moving at such a languid pace that you can’t help but clench your thighs around his own. your fingers curl around the snowy threads of his white hair, tugging at it gently before pulling his face away so you can meet his eyes.

he looks smug - but he always does because he knows that you’re just addicted to him as he is to you.

“isn’t that what we want?” he questions, the corner of his mouth twitching into a lazy smile as he takes off your top and unfastens your bra, “we’re already so perfect...”

“satoru,” you whine, “that’s not the point-”

this time he ruts his pelvis upward, interrupting your thoughts as he hits you at the right spot that makes your eyes disappear into the back of your head. he leans against the chair, maintaining full eye contact with you as he casually lifts you up before dropping you back down on his cock. “just want to make you m’pretty wife, is all...fuck you like this every single night...”

you bite your bottom lip, frustrated with how wet he’s making you with his words. your body subconsciously succumbs to his demands and you slowly start bouncing up and down over his length.

“that’s right, angel,” satoru grunts with approval, his hungry hands grab your ass roughly, and you squeak when you feel a slight sting from behind as the sound of his palm slapping against your skin echoes around the room. “see? I’m making you feel s’fucking good, your pussy’s so wet f’me...just for me...”

when his mouth finds yours, you know you’ve lost the battle. his scalding kisses leave your lips swollen but you still search for him out of desperation to feel the fire. he’s reminding you how hard it would be to let go of him, reiterating that there is no man in this world who could ever love you as much he does. you feel silly for bringing this up, questioning your own trepidations about him and wondering if this is simply you sabotaging what you already have.

you are in a daze from the way he fucks you but he isn’t slowing down his movements and you feel like he might actually split you in two. he would never speak to you with angry words, but you can feel it in his movements.

“gonna c-cum, gonna cum, gonna cum...”

it comes out of you like a warning, but it only makes satoru go deeper and before you know it your vision is white. your body feels everything all at once, and the coil that’s been tightening around your lower belly loosens from the intense orgasm. the pleasure is euphoric, sinfully so, and it drains you of all the energy you’ve preserved. your body goes limp in satoru’s arms, and he keeps them wrapped securely around your waist as he pumps his cum inside you.

he holds you in this embrace, allowing the seconds to pass. his breath fans your collar bone while he tries to catch himself. your eyes feel heavy when you blink them open, and you cup his face in your hands as you seek to cool yourself down with his azure eyes.

“I’m never going to let you go,” he confesses with a sweet kiss to the inside of your palm, before placing another on your cheek while he tightens his grip, “so stop trying to push me away.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut

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luv4kozume · 1 month

Text

⏳ 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 — MATT STURNIOLO

PersonalTrainer!Matt x Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, slow burn, hella praise, teasing/flirting, pet names (baby, good girl), dry humping, fingering, doggy, stomach bulge, public(ish) sex, unprotected sex, cum-shot (lol idk what to call this). Semi-proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your personal trainer, Matt have some underlying attraction and sexual tension during your session. What happens when neither of you can fight back the temptation anymore?

Word Count: 5,103

a/n: HEY GUYS!!! I know I disappeared from here for a week or so but I’m back now!! I hope this smutty Matt fic makes up for my absence??

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

The sun rays crept through your window that sat right above your kitchen sink, your headphones resting at your neck as you opened your fridge door. You hummed, grabbing onto various different fruits.

You spun around on your heels, closing the door back with your hip before placing them on the kitchen counter. You glanced over at the clock to make sure that you were still making good time as you tossed the already diced pineapples and mangoes into the blender. You added a couple more things before blending it all together. Once satisfied by the thickness of the smoothie and the slight pink tint to it, you slowly poured it into your cup.

Recently, you had really gotten into fitness. It had been on your bucket list for quite some time and you're finally taking it into action. You had even taken it as far as hiring a personal trainer to help keep you motivated. Although, you sometimes wondered if he was the sole purpose as to why you kept going to the gym in the first place.

Over time, you had developed this little crush on him. Your stomach flipped every time the two of you were alone together during sessions. He had this thing where he loved praising you, obviously you assumed the man was just doing his job but sometimes it felt so much more than that.

However, you never planned to act on this assumption. The last thing you wanted was for there to be some awkward tension between the two of you because you were confusing his kindness for flirting. So you decided to keep those thoughts of attraction to yourself. Besides, it was just an innocent crush.

*ೃ༄

The glass door squeaked a bit as you pushed it open, the gym was empty and a musk scent filled the room. There were full length mirrors scattered just about everywhere, along with many machines used for exercise.

Some of them intimidated you, since you were only just a beginner. But Matt never made you feel pressured in your progress and always reassured you to go at your own pace.

He had a kind and gentle demeanor about him that always made you feel safe whenever he was around. You couldn’t help but wonder if he remained that way in the bedroom as well, your heart raced at just the thought of his praise in that context.

He hadn’t noticed you right away when you made it through the doors until it slammed shut behind you.

He sat across the room, hunched over on a bench. His thighs spreading apart as his arms draped over his lap and his phone rested in his hand. A silver chain shining just past his collarbone, which was fully visible due to his black tank that complimented the grey sweatpants he had on— that hung dangerously low at his hips.

“Hey.” He finally spoke, raising his head up with a smile as you walked closer towards him. “You ready for today?”

You sat on the bench next to him as he switched off his phone and placed it in the pocket of his sweats.

“Yes.” You say nearly out of breath, you could hear your pulse in your ears as he locked his eyes with yours. He made you terribly nervous and you hadn’t had the slightest idea why, especially since nothing has even happened yet.

You could’ve swore that you saw his eyes flicker down to your thighs before going back up to your face. Surely it was an accident, but another part of you hoped otherwise.

“Have you been practicing your form?” He smirked.

You cringed slightly at his question, knowing exactly what he was referring to. The main reason why you wanted to started working out was to build more muscle in your legs and core, but what you didn’t realize was just how intense those exercises can be.

One of those not even being a full exercise at all and just a “simple” warm up instead. The thought of even doing a plank right now made your stomach churn with dread.

“Yeah, of course.” You lie right through your teeth, hoping he doesn’t pick up on it.

“You sure?” Matt teased, getting up from the bench and walking towards the center of the gym. “Wanna come prove that to me?”

“Sure.” You reply in nearly a whisper as Matt adjusted one of the memory foam mats on the floor. This made it easier for your joins to withstand the stretches.

You knelt down, getting on your palms and knees. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your silhouette, like he was trying to undress you with his eyes. You tried your best to brush off that giddy feeling that rushed through you, getting flustered at just the mere thought of Matt thinking of you in that way.

You let out a shaky exhale as you lowered your head, dropping your chin down into your chest as you supported your weight with your arms and toes. Matt's clothes rustled in your ears as he knelt down to get in front you, playfully tsking at the way your body trembled in this position.

“Firstly,” He begins at a soft whisper. His slender fingers trailing down to raise your face up by your chin, forcing your eyes to lock with his. “You gotta keep your head up.”

“Whoops.” You shyly reply, quickly averting away from his stare. He hummed at your obedience. You shivered under the warmth of his hands as they slithered down your spine past your black sports bra. Moving himself to kneel by your side.

Luckily for you, he couldn't see your rosy cheeks in this warmup— and they certainly were not heated up because of the plank. A nearly inaudible whimper like noise accidentally slipped out of you as one of his hands rested at the small of your back. The other pressing against your abdomen, gently readjusting your form.

“You gotta keep your core up like this to strength it.” He instructs, keeping that tender hold on your bottom half.

Your heart felt like it was pumping a mile a minute, feeling his fingertips resting right at the waistband of your leggings. His large hands against your body made you feel things that you just should not for your personal trainer. You wanted so desperately for his hands to travel lower, yanking away at your clothes and to finally touch you in the most intimate of places.

Finally, you cleared your throat before adjusting yourself in his strong hold before uttering a meek, “Like this?”

His hands moved just the slightest at the new position you were in. Grinning in approval, so proud of how you were doing.

“Yeah, just like that. Hold it right there.” He coaxed, his thumbs now tracing gentle circles against your clothes, earning yet another one of the cute noises from you that you prayed he didn't hear.

While you were down below trying your best to keep any other sounds from slipping out he was taking full advantage of the view. His wandering gaze getting an eyeful of the way your leggings wrapped around the plump shape of your ass and thighs. He nearly groaned at the sight, but suppressed the urge as he didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. But you were just so tempting.

Matt chose the worst day possible to wear grey sweatpants. He looked away for a bit, taking in a deep breath to compose himself. Filling his mind with gross images to keep lewd thoughts of you out— because he knew the longer he'd stare he'd definitely wouldn't be able to hide his erection around you.

Once he felt confident enough to keep his burning desires in the back of his mind, his eyes dropped back down to your figure.

However, that's when he made a pleasant discovery. A sly grin pulling at his lips when he noticed the slightest imprint your panties made against your leggings— he was convinced you were trying to kill him.

Only to take a closer look and realize that you weren’t wearing just any regular pair, but a skimpy thong instead. The sudden realization of knowing that you were wearing a thong right now had a cluster of inappropriate thoughts running through his head, clouding his better judgment.

You weren't a woman that he should flirt with. And you were definitely not a woman he should have sex with. You were one of his regular clients and it was going to be a real struggle for him to fight back this temptation to keep everything strictly professional between you two.

“You think you can keep it up a little longer?” Matt asked, his sweet words rolling off his tongue like silk.

“Yeah.” Is all you could muster up, trying not to break your concentration with his suggestive words, only for it be obliterated by what he decided to say next.

“Good girl, you're doing so well.” He coaxed, holding onto you for a little bit before finally retracting his hands, the warmth of them suddenly disappearing.

He continued feeding you with heartwarming praises that made you wonder if he knew the impact his words had over you.

It felt like ages had passed before he finally approved of your time, letting you rest up on your knees. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, making your breasts protrude out slightly, threatening to spill out of your bra with each deep inhale you took.

You could see him struggling to keep his eyes on yours as he spoke to you, causing a flushed smile to spread on your face.

“What did you want to focus on today?” He began to ask, desperate to cut through the growing sexual tension in the room. “Arms or legs?”

“Uhh.. legs mostly.” You reply, your voice still a bit shaky as your shifted your weight on your heels. You shot him another smile, feeling brave enough to add a hint of flirtation in your tone, “But I wanna switch it up and do arms first today.”

“Yeah, we can totally do that.” He replies, standing up. He holds out his hand for you to grab onto, your fingers slid into his palm as he pulled you up from the floor. He guided you over to one of the machinery, “We can start off with pull-ups.”

*ೃ༄

The soles of your sneakers sank down into the plush mat on the ground as you take in another deep breath, trying your best to regain focus on the task at hand.

The pull-ups themselves wasn’t the issue. The only dilemma you could think of was that Matt’s hands would have to be on your waist. But even so, was that truly an issue?

“Ready?” Matt asked, his hands hovering just over your hipbones, waiting for your approval to touch.

“Yes.” You reply, peering over your shoulder to face him. Only to quickly avert your eyes when you accidentally looked at him for a bit too long.

Another convincing smile spread on his face, loving how flustered you’d get when the two of you made eye contact. He thought it was just the cutest thing and even more so knowing that you’d say otherwise.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm palms pressed onto your waist, his fingers gently wrapping around your figure as he lifted you up with ease.

“We can just do five for today, okay?” He huffed out, remaining exceptionally calm considering that your ass was pressing right against his chest.

“Okay.” You muttered in embarrassment. Your clammy hands wrapped around the steel pole. The muscles in your biceps flexing at the slightest as Matt assisted you with each pull-up.

Your cheeks flushed with that same rosy hue as before when he continued praising you. Each sugar-coated word sent butterflies right to your stomach and down to your core, making you subconsciously squirm in his hands. Which only encouraged him to say even more sweet things to you.

“Just one more, okay? Doing so good.” Matt groaned against you, lifting you up one last time before gently bringing back down on your feet.

You spun around on your heels, a smile on your face as small beads of sweat started to form at your forehead.

“I told you I was getting better.” You reply with a cocky tone, your hands rested at your hips.

“Yeah, well that’s because you’ve got the best trainer.” He joked, crossing his arms just below his chest.

“I already knew that.” You laugh.

“Mhm, I bet you did.” He replied, licking his lips before bringing them up into a smirk. “Wanna test those legs out too?”

“What? More squats?” You complain, those were the bulk of your sessions and you quickly grew tired of them. There had to be some other way to build muscle in your legs.

“I mean that is the best way for you, but if you want to try something new, I’m down.” He shrugged, looking around at the machinery.

His eyes locked on one of the leg press machines against the wall before bringing his gaze back to you. A perplexed expression written all over your poor face which only made him chuckle.

“Wanna give it a go?” He asked, pointing over at it.

“I can try.” You reply, walking over towards the leg press, Matt following close behind you.

Your fingertips grazed over the material of the equipment, your heart pounding in your chest— terrified of making a fool of yourself in front of Matt.

“Maybe you should get on first.” You say turning around to face him, giving him the most convincing smile.

“Why is that?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands now buried in his pockets.

“So I can see how it’s properly done.” You reply, taking a step closer towards him. “You are the best trainer after all.”

The last words rolled right off your tongue with ease, now suddenly flipping the whole praising charade on him— which turned him on far more than he’d like to admit.

A slight red tint flushed over his cheeks, dropping his head down to hide that bashful smile of his.

“Leg presses aren’t really my thing.” He replied shortly after, bringing his flustered face back up, his eyes piercing right through yours. A stare so obviously filled with desire, it nearly made your knees go weak.

“Then what is your thing?” You ask.

“You’re gonna laugh.” Matt replied, trying to contain his own laughter.

“I swear I won’t.” You reply, an undeniable smile spreading on your face. “Just tell me.”

“Promise?” He asked.

“Promise.” You reply.

“Come here.” He replied, nodding his head over as he guided towards the dumbbells. Another black, memory foam mat spread across the cool gym floor, the plush material squishing beneath your sneakers.

His back faced you as he pointed down at the rack of assorted dumbbells, the order going from lightest to heaviest. He mumbled a few syllables under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?” You teased, coming up closer to him to stand next to his side.

“Dumbbell hip thrusts are more my thing.” He replied, watching his words quickly contort your face into a flustered mess.

Before you could give him a proper response, his feet were already dragging against the floor. Your stomach flipped as he grabbed onto the heaviest weight— lifting it up from the rack as if it were a feather.

You anxiously fiddled around with your fingers, your clammy hand trembling within the other as you watched Matt place the weight on his lap. His shaggy strands of hair falling right over his forehead, peering up at you every now and then through his dark lashes. A smug grin plastered across his face— he knew exactly what he was doing.

His large palms wrapped around the rough, black material of the dumbbell. His entire hand covering up the ‘80’ that was imprinted on each side.

A few undeniable groans slipped out from him as he began the exercise, his teeth grinding against one another and his cheeks slowly filled up with a light red tint. His biceps flexed at the slightest but the main attraction was his groin— the way he gradually thrusted his pelvis up towards the ceiling had your heart fluttering in your chest.

Suddenly the air felt too thick to properly draw in, your lungs felt like they were ready to collapse at any moment.

All you could do was focus on the way Matt’s hips moved up and down in such a taunting manner.

A suggestive and lewd manner.

He moved in a way that had you subconsciously wishing that you were the one sitting on his lap instead— that he was thrusting up into you.

The tension in the room only continued to build up around you, consuming your thoughts and causing your body to react in a way that you know you shouldn’t. But you the temptation only grew stronger by the second.

You opened your mouth to speak, but thankfully you were cut off my his words.

“Is that enough proof for ya?” Matt asked, the same smirk still on his face as he finally gave his lower half a rest.

You watched as his fingers wrapped around the silver bar of the dumbbell, swinging it off his lap and gently placed it down by his side. The weights sinking down into the soft mat.

Tiny beads of sweat formed at his hairline as he looked up at you. His fingers combing through his hair as he waited for your answer.

“No.” You hum in a melodic tone, earning a chuckle from him.

“Well, I don’t know what else to do.” He playfully shrugged, “I don’t have anything else to lift.”

Feeling brave, you decided to finally put yourself out there. After today, it would be more painful if you hadn’t tried to make a move in a situation like this. Besides, what was the worst that he could say?

“I bet you can’t lift me.” You teased.

“Are you joking?” His smile growing from ear to ear, “I most definitely can.”

“I don’t know, Matt…” You reply. “You seemed to be struggling with that dumbbell just now.”

“I know you’re bullshitting, now.” He huffed out.

You knew what you were doing with your choice of words, knowing that he wasn’t the type of man to back down from a challenge.

Obviously, you and Matt both knew he had this in the bag. The real challenge, however, was keeping that strict wall of professionalism still in tact.

“Get your ass over here.” His words tumbling out as he pat his hand on his lap, beckoning you over to come sit. To which you gladly comply.

Your shoes squished into the memory foam down below, swinging one of your legs over him. Your dainty fingers pressed down into his shoulders for support as you slowly lowered yourself to straddle him.

A breathy laugh fell out from him once you finally took your seat, your core resting dangerously close towards his member.

So much for professionalism.

“Sorry.” You say, shooting him an awkward smile.

Your hips rocked against him, trying to get in a comfortable seating. It took every fiber in Matt’s being to not give into the primal-like urges that had been festering up inside him the moment you walked through those doors.

You, on the other hand, were painfully oblivious of the fact. Each slow and sensual movement of your hips had him mesmerized. He knew he should hold his tongue and knew even better to not touch you in this setting.

He opened his mouth to speak, giving a weak attempt to tell you that this probably wasn’t the brightest idea and maybe you should get off. But he was suddenly cut off to release a low and suggestive grunt.

You nearly whimpered when you felt his strong hands shooting up to grip your hips, locking you down in place to prevent you from brushing up against his dick again.

You looked up at him with pleading doe-like eyes. A stare so innocent yet so seductive, you looked so fuckable on his lap like this— and he just simply could not contain the desire he had for you any longer.

His gaze flickered down to your sleek figure, tracing hypnotic circles into your hips with his thumbs. You swallowed thickly when his eyes pierced back up into your own, anxiously anticipating what he was going to say or do next.

“Can I…” Matt mumbled out before clearing his throat. “Can I kiss you?”

You feverishly nodded in response, afraid of how needy you’d sound if you had used your voice instead. He hesitated at first, analyzing every minor change in your expression. He wanted to be completely sure that you wanted, no needed, this as much as he did.

Your desirous eyes were a dead give away, confirming that the attraction was mutual. Finally, he pressed his lips on yours— being sure to remain at a soft and slow pace to test the waters. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders now that the sexual tension had finally been severed.

His lips curled up into a pleaser smile as he pulled your body in closer to his own. Your arms draped around his neck, deepening the kiss as you tilted your head to the side. His nostrils flared against you as he took in a deep inhale, not wanting to pull away from your lips.

Suddenly the kiss morphed into something much more heated and passionate. His lips weren’t on you in a “one-night-stand” kind of way. No, he kissed you like he had nothing else to lose; like you were the only thing that mattered. All that underlying attraction he kept tucked away from you had finally been set free and he made sure to show that with his actions. He had been yearning for you.

Both of his hands slithered past your hips, grabbing a handful of your ass. Shamelessly pulling you back and forth so that you could feel how hard he was for you.

You pulled away from the kiss in attempt to catch your breath, only to be cut off by a sharp gasp when Matt began peppering wet kisses along your neck and collarbone. Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip, a trail of soft whimpers spewing out from you as he continued. All while his fingertips traveled up around your waist to toy with the waistband of your leggings.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Matt slurred out, finally pulling away from your throat. “Can I take these off?”

“Yes.” You whispered.

His fingers looped inside your bottoms, quickly pulling away at the fabric and discarding it onto the floor next to both of you. He groans at the sight of the black strings of your thong pinching into the plush curves of your hips.

Two strong arms wrapped around your waist, swiftly flipping the two of you over so that Matt was on top of you now. Your thighs naturally parted, allowing for his hips to rest in between them.

He taunts you with more kisses, this time being more like petty pecks against your lips. You whined against him, your fingers tugging at the hem of his tank.

Luckily he caught the hint, laughing a bit to himself before raising up. He threw his shirt down to join your leggings, his hair now a bit disheveled and his silver chain dangling around his throat as he lowered himself back down.

The warmth of his hands sent butterflies in your stomach, slowly inching them up your ribcage to finally take off your bra. He slid the small piece of clothing over your head and tossed it away, giving you more kisses against your throat.

You shuddered, feeling his breath fanning against your hot skin. His large hands scooping up both of your tits, fondling them ever so softly. You whimpered, wrapping your shaky fingers around his wrists.

“Doing okay?” Matt asked sweetly, locking his eyes with yours.

“Mhm.” You hum, your brows knitted together and cheeks all flushed out.

“Good.” He smirked, his eyes flickering down. Slowly running his hands along your figure. “You’re so pretty, baby. Gonna let me me see more? Let me make you feel good?”

“Yes..” You whined with a nod, the tip of his nose grazing against yours. Your lips parted slightly when you felt the pads of his fingers on your clit, giving you a teasing stroke through your panties.

“Yeah? Bet you’ll be so good for me, hm?” He hummed, that conniving smirk never leaving his face. You squirmed under his touch, all you could do was give him another nod in agreement.

Your eyes darted down, watching him stretch the material of your thong. Slowly pulling the fabric over to the side.

“Hold this for me?” He coaxed, keeping a hold on the clothing before your fingers took his place.

Your lips pouted out sheepishly, your eyes never leaving the movements he made with his hands. One of them holding on the back your knee, slowly parting your legs further apart.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers trembling as they struggled to maintain a strong grip on your panties.

“You’ve been wanting this too, huh?” He cooed, his fingers moving away from your clit and traveling down to your entrance. Being sure to lather them up with your arousal before slipping them inside.

“Fuck.” You gasped, feeling both of them push inside you. You tried to shy away from his eyes but he only forced your focus back on him, smashing his lips back into yours.

He picked up the speed of his fingers, expertly curling them up to find that sweet spot of yours. Your legs trembled in his hold and around his hips, now struggling to kiss him back.

The squelching of your arousal was an alluring symphony to his ears. Being sure to savor every moment he could with your sweet, velvety walls hugging around him so nice.

A devious chuckle slipped out from him when he realized his fingers were the cause of you struggling to kiss him back. You whined out in frustration when you felt him slowly dragging them out.

“C’mon, don’t pout.” He tsked, grabbing ahold of your hips, slowly gesturing you to flip over. “Turn around for me, baby.”

You huff out a shaky sigh as you slowly turned around. Your knees now sinking down into the memory foam below and your elbows resting on one of the dark, firm gym blocks Matt had scattered around the place.

You nestled your flustered face in between your arms, a rush of excitement washed over you as you heard Matt’s clothes rustle behind you. He tugged at the drawstring around his waist, finally freeing his dick from his stuffy clothes.

Goosebumps coated your skin once you felt the soft touch of Matt’s hand against you. Pulling at the string of your panties, making sure they were far back enough for him to fit. You shuddered underneath him, shyly anticipating his next move.

His free hand wrapped around the base of his cock, fighting the urge to pump himself dry.

“So pretty and wet for me, baby..” He spoke in nearly a whisper, dragging his tip along your slick folds. A pinkish tint decorating his cheeks as he continued, “Gonna let me fill you up, yeah?”

Your teeth tugged back on your bottom lip, furrowing your brows together as he gently pushed himself inside you. Your eyes fluttered closed as he bottomed out.

“Matt.. oh fuck..” You whined, already feeling his tip brushing up against that same spot as before.

Both of his hands were now hugging around your waist, watching himself pull out only to slam right back into you. You sweet cries filling up his ears and the way your ass bounced with each thrust only encouraged him to give you more. Curious to find out how many other sounds he could pull out of you.

He continued rocking his pelvis into you, being sure to keep that sweet, slow pace as before. But you made it incredibly difficult for him to do so, he wondered if you had been doing it on purpose.

The way your pussy sucked him back in each time he’d pull out made him want to pin you to the floor and show who truly had the upper hand.

“Shit.” He cursed, the grip around your hips tightening.

His necklace dangled over your back as he hovered over you. Pressing sloppy kisses down your spine, causing you to shiver.

“You feel so fucking good.” He groaned against you, slowly pumping himself further inside. He continued pouring more sweet nothings in your ear, leaving you putty in his hands.

His hands slid from your waist up to your chest, grabbing ahold of your bouncing tits. His lips now aligned with your ear, his breath fanning against you as he whispered.

“That’s my sweet girl, taking me so well.” He began, one of his hands snaking it’s way down to your stomach. You cried out once he pressed his hand against you, loving the way he could feel his dick protruding through you.

“You feel that, baby?” He huffed out, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Feel how deep I am?”

“Matty.. I- I’m gonna..” You moaned, dropping your head towards your chest. Your body moving in uncontrollable waves in his hands as you quickly approached your orgasm.

“Come on, cum for me.” Matt groaned, feeling his own high creeping up on him. “I know you can. Want it all over my dick, baby, come on.”

His words alone were enough to send you over the edge. You let out a broken whimper as you released over him, his thrusts letting up slightly as he continued fucking you through your orgasm.

You whined from the newfound sensitivity, not knowing how much more you could take. Luckily, he wasn’t too far behind you.

He pulled out of you with a groan, his hand going straight to his dick. Sliding his hand along his throbbing length until thick, warm stripes of white coated your back.

A spew of curses slipped out from before he hovered back down to press a few kisses into your flushed cheeks. You whined, turning your face towards him to press your lips against his.

“I’ll grab a towel, okay?” He whispered. “You did so good, like always.”

📃 — taglist!

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⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗠𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: yuuji sees a completely different side of gojo-sensei !

contents: tooth rotting fluff w a dash of angst! established relationship (married), second person & told from yuuji’s pov. extremely whipped satoru! petnames, suggestive dialogue

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

yuuji was initially ecstatic about the prospect of living with gojo-sensei. he’d imagined lazing around, gorging on sweets and watching cartoons on tv — maybe a few training sessions squeezed in with gojo-sensei — ideally it would’ve been just the two of them.

his fantasies came crashing down when realised gojo-sensei’s “house” was actually a “home”. the walls in the foyer were riddled with picture frames. he felt like he was intruding on gojo-sensei’s personal life, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures on the walls.

there was a woman beside gojo-sensei in most of the pictures. she had (e/c) eyes and (h/c) hair. a friend? or a girlfriend? — nah. according to fushiguro, gojo-sensei got zero play. though she had to mean something to him. it was evident in the way he looked at her.

his cerulean eyes entirely averted the camera lens, instead devoted to committing every inch of her to memory

“that’s my wife” gojo said softly,“she’s gorgeous isn’t she?” he laughed wryly as he stared lovingly at the smiling woman in the photo. yuuji nodded slowly, studying his teacher closely.

“is she okay with me hiding out here?” he asked tentatively, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

“ahhh about that” gojo says sheepishly, “i haven’t had the time to mention it to her so you’ll have to wait here while i talk to her” he ran a hand through his hair, snowy white tendrils curling around his fingers.

classic gojo-sensei.

“oh” yuuji chuckled, the situation was amusing to him. he couldn’t wait to tell fushiguro — the sour reminder that he couldn’t had his laughter dying in his throat.

gojo-sensei shrugged off his shoes and patted yuuji’s shoulder, “don’t worry she’ll say yes , i’ve got her wrapped around my finger”

yuuji waited patiently in the foyer, amber eyes flickering over the expensive decor and woodsy frames of gojo-sensei’s family. he could faintly make out traces of your conversation

"oh? you're home early for once" you smiled, leaning into your husband as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "what's the special occasion 'toru?"

"do i need a reason to want to see my beautiful wife?”

“nope” you hummed, “‘m just surprised to see you” not that you were complaining. satoru was a busy man and you cherished the rare moments you spent alone together

“how was your day sweets?” he asked, taking your hand in his, his thumb stroked over knuckles, soft, loving.

“same old” you shrugged, “we’ve got some big case coming up next week, so i was pretty busy today. had a tonne of paperwork and meetings too"

"my busy bee" he smiles, "i missed you s'much, i hate going on these stupid business trips"

"you'd like them more if i came with you" you said teasingly, poking his rib with your free hand "i ran into kento the other day, you sure i shouldn't come back to jujutsu sorcery too?"

"nuh uh" he shook his head firmly, "stay at your law firm pretty, 'm gonna need someone to defend me when i kill all the higher ups"

"what have they done now?" you sigh exasperatedly, turning the knob on the gas cooker and reducing the heat. the faint clicking sound echoes in the kitchen as the orange-blue flames simmered quietly.

"what haven't they done" he grumbled, leaning against the counter. he gently tugged at his blindfold, lithe fingers unveiling the cerulean eyes that you loved so much. his snowy hair fell softly around his face, a curtain that failed to hide the anger he felt coursing through his veins.

"poor baby" you cooed, hands trailing up to his face and cupping his cheeks, your fingers smoothed over the frown etched on his face, pushing his lips together in a duck-lipped pout, "wanna tell me about it?"

"y'know yuuji? the new first year that's sukuna's vessel?"

you nod, allowing your hands to fall from his face and rest on the counter. his greedy hands make their way to your waist, rubbing circles on the soft flesh peeking out beneath your untucked dress shirt.

"well they sent the first years on a mission to rescue people from the detention center, after sending me on that stupid mission overseas mind you, and the kid had to fight a special grade curse"

"is he okay?" you ask, hands ghosting over satoru's bigger, veiny ones. he sighs, a look of mild irritation fleeting over his face at the memory. in retrospect, none of that mattered now. he was home.

"yeah he's fine" he shrugs, "sukuna ripped his heart out and he died, but he revived him eventually"

"your definition of fine is questionable satoru" you snicker, and he feels his heart melting at the sound of your laughter. "why'd they send them on that mission anyways?"

"they just want yuuji dead, he was supposed to be executed remember? and they're really scared of sukuna which is crazy 'cause he's kinda weak"

"someone needs to humble you" you say, amusement dripping from your words like honey, "pride comes before fall 'toru"

"you humble me all the time sweets" he grins, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead.

"i'm just doing the universe a favour" you tease, "what do you want for dinner? rice? noodles? or we could order food from that thai joint you like if you want”

"i'll eat anything you cook sweets,” he murmurs, “though i have something else i wouldn’t mind eating”

“satoru” you gasped, “you just got home and you’re already trying to get between my legs” you smack his shoulder playfully

“i’ve missed her too” he shrugs, “i’ve missed all of you”

you shook your head, “can’t believe i married such a feen” a languid smile tugs at the corners of your lips. you could try all you wanted to resist his charms, but he’d always win in the end

"so...about yuuji" satoru starts, testing the waters, "the higher ups really want him gone, i can't keep him at jujutsu tech right now"

"i can see why you wouldn't" you hum, leaning on the tips of your toes to reach for the salt. satoru had a habit of placing the things you needed in places you couldn't reach just so he could have the honour of retrieving them for you

“need help with that sweets?” he asks eagerly, pushing himself off the counter and sifting through the wooden shelves. he easily brings the jar of salt down and hands it to you

"you have to stop doing this, it’s such an inconvenience" you sighed, but you were grateful nonetheless.“you’re insufferable i swear”

“‘m still yours” he says suavely. satoru’s smile is unwavering though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

you can tell the thing with yuuji is weighing heavily on his mind. he’s more restless than usual. his lithe fingers run up and down the counter as he stares into space

“‘toru?” you prompt, nudging him with your elbow, “i can hear you thinking”

“i don’t know where to keep him” he exhales, “i would ask shoko, or kento but then i’d risk getting them in trouble with the higher ups”

“what about the secret room we found in our third year?” you asked, “you could keep him there, unless they found out about it”

“i would keep him there.. but i just...don't want him to feel alone," he says softly. you didn’t think it was possible to fall even deeper in love with satoru, but he never failed to surprise you. “he's just a kid, so i— i want to look out for him.”

he knows it’s a big ask. you can hear the gears turning in his head as he figures out how to possibly convince you to let sukuna’s vessel stay in your home.

"can he stay?" he pleads, "can yuuji stay with us please? it’s only until the kyoto goodwill event" he's clasping his hands together, imploring you with his infinitely blue eyes. you raise an eyebrow. knowing satoru, yuuji was probably waiting around in the foyer

"he's already here isn't he?" you ask, shaking your head fondly as a guilty look flickers across his face. classic satoru. although you would've loved for him to give you a heads up, you didn't mind a bit. it would be nice to have some company when satoru went on his missions

“i didn’t really have time to plan all the details before bringing him with me” he says, sheepishly rubbing a hand behind his neck, his fingers brushed against the soft strands of his undercut, "are you mad? don't be mad baby"

"no" you laugh, "i'm not mad 'toru, he can stay"

it’s the little things like this that make you realise just how much power you have over him. within seconds your husband is whirling you around, hands gripping your waist tightly and pressing chaste kisses on your face as he sets you down

"yuuji she said you can stay" a wide grin blooms across his face as he bounds into the foyer excitedly. the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, reduced to the faint resemblance of a child getting their first sleepover approved

you set the jar of salt down on the marbled counter. trailing after your husband. true to your suspicions, yuuji itadori had been standing awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs together in his hoodie pockets and silently taking in the intricacies of your home.

he couldn’t help but feel out of place.

there were pairs of everything — shoes neatly arranged on the coat rack. umbrellas tucked in a corner in the foyer. coats hung up next to each other on the wall.

the pale blue wallpaper hung row after row of framed photographs. their wooden mahogany panels reflected the warm lights. yuuji’s light brown eyes flickered on the pictures in all their glory and glossy sheen.

the ones that caught his eye captured a young fushiguro’s trademark scowl, the irritated quirk of his brow and the curled spikes of his hair that defied gravity.

he was standing beside a girl who looked just like him, except she was slightly taller with long bone-straight brown hair. yuuji’s eyes lingered on her smile as your beanstalk of a husband shook him excitedly

he wondered what fushiguro would say if he knew he’d seen pictures of him as a little kid. ( he’d probably summon his shikigami on him )

“really?” he beamed, eyes momentarily drawn away from the plethora of frames. you feel your heart melt into a sickly sweet puddle of happiness and warmth, as you watch satoru drape his arm over yuuji’s shoulder

“yes really” you laugh, “it’s nice to finally meet you yuuji, you’re a friend of megumi’s right?”

yuuji nods frantically, his mop of pink curls bouncing enthusiastically . his mannerisms were nervous and eager. he wanted to fit in. he wanted you to like him. you could tell — he reminded you oddly of your husband ( they were practically the same person in different fonts )

“speaking of megumi, he doesn’t know yuuji’s alive so please don’t let it slip when he calls you” satoru murmurs, taking slow steps towards you.

he knows he’s asking for too much now. you practically raised megumi and it would be nearly impossible for you to keep something like this from him. satoru can see the cogs spinning in your head, the subtle anger in your heart and for the first time in years he’s afraid.

“we’ll talk about this later” you say through gritted teeth. he pleads silently with his eyes and you swallow your protests, you exhale loudly before turning towards yuuji again “c’mon yuuji, i’ve just started on dinner”

yuuji kicks off his shoes and nudges them neatly beneath the shoe rack before padding after you. satoru isn’t far behind

“it smells really good mrs. gojo” yuuji says politely, as he takes a seat by the kitchen island, legs dangling as he drums on the smooth marbled counter.

“thank you yuuji” you beamed, “do you prefer rice or noodles?”

“ahh i’m not really picky” he says, “i like all kinds of food really, but i suppose rice? if it isn’t too much of a hassle, i really don’t want to be a bother-”

“slow down yuuji” you said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “i’m really glad to have you here, it gets kinda lonely when ‘toru’s away on business trips so make yourself at home okay?”

no wonder gojo-sensei was always happy, his wife was an angel. yuuji thought as he nodded fervently

“i can make the rice baby” satoru offers, his hands make their way around your waist, he doesn’t miss the way you stiffen under his touch. you’re mad at him, and he knows you have every right to be

“thank you” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could muster, “come with me yuuji, i’ll show you around”

yuuji was positive he was intruding now, standing in the middle of megumi’s room while you stripped navy blue pinstripe sheets off his bed and replaced them with canary dressings.

“are you sure i can sleep here?” he asks, “ i don’t mind taking the couch..”

you seemed horrified at the idea of yuuji sleeping alone on the couch. he still hadn’t come to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him here. he was so used to being unwanted

growing up with his grandpa was something he wouldn’t trade for the world, yet he’d always craved the warmth of a mother. a mother’s love was the purest, and there was nothing more blameless than the softness in your (e/c) eyes when you looked at him

“i mind yuuji” you frowned” and i want you to stay in gumi’s room, his clothes should fit you since you’re around the same height”

“thank you again for letting me crash here” yuuji didn’t think he could say it enough. he didn’t deserve such kindness, not when the king of curses lived rent free in his head

“don’t mention it yuuji” you said, “i meant what i said downstairs, i could really use the company”

you ruffled his hair softly before resuming your ministrations of making the bed. you tucked crisp sheets beneath the mattress and fluffed up pillows with ease.

“you’re a really good mom, why don’t you and gojo-sensei have any kids of your own?” yuuji only realises the question is slightly insensitive after the words hang in the air and an unreadable look fleets across your face, “i’m so sorry that was really rude of me-”

“you’re good yuuji” you laugh, you sit down on the freshly laid duvet and pat the space beside you. yuuji hesitates but he sits down eventually

“it just never happened y’know? we adopted tsu and gumi a few years back, plus toru’s always seen his students as his kids, he cares about you guys a lot”

“even me?” it doesn’t seem plausible to him. all he’s seemed to do is cause problems for gojo-sensei ever since he ate that gross finger

“especially you yuuji” you smiled, ruffling his hair, “you remind me of him funny enough, even though i used to hate him back in our school days”

“really?” he gawked, he was practically falling over megumi’s bed with anticipation.

“really” you affirmed , “he was a real piece of work back then, i bet he’s the reason yaga has so many grey hairs”

“how’d you fall in love with him then?” yuuji enquires, brown eyes sparkling with immense curiosity “and how’d you meet?”

“are you guys gossiping about me?” satoru gasps, peeking around the doorway, “how mean of you yuuji, i thought we were friends”

“ahhh we weren’t gossiping per-say, mrs. gojo was about to tell me how you met”

“can i tell him?” satoru’s eyes sparkle, “the way i remember it i walked into the common room and cherry blossoms started falling, classical piano was playing softly in the background and-”

“that didn’t happen” you said, “he’s finally going senile” you tried and failed to push satoru out the doorway but he stood his ground.

he stood almost toe to toe with you, a pleased grin blooming on his face as he towered over you. yuuji’s eye’s flickered between you and your husband, cheeks dusted a rosy pink as he stifled giggles

“it did happen!” satoru insisted, “i’m sure shoko has a recording of it somewhere, now as i was saying.. she took one look at me and fell head over heels in love”

“you’re deluded” you muttered, “i didn’t love you until our second year, get your facts right”

“so you did fall head over heels in love with me” he grinned, “so early too? i knew you couldn’t resist my charms — owww!”

satoru feigns as you finally manage to shove him out the door after hitting his shoulder. by now, yuuji is a spluttering mess on the soft tatami mats lining megumi’s floor

“i’ll tell you what really happened one of these days” you said over your shoulder, “you can shower and settle in, take as long as you need, we’ll wait for you to come downstairs before we start eating”

your smile falls the moment the door clicks shut behind you. satoru feels his heart shattering. he’s so sure he’s going to die because his wife is mad at him. the universe might as well combust into nothing but ashes

“baby-” satoru starts, catching your wrist in his palm. he grips the bone loosely, careful not to hurt you “‘m sorry, you know that, but megumi can’t know”

you trudge down the stairs in silence, opting only to speak when you’re seated beside satoru in the living room. your cat natsu watches you wearily from her cat post, slanted eyes shooting satoru a well meaning glare.

“you can’t ask me to keep this from him” you said, shaking your head, eyes looking everywhere but your husband’s piercing blue gaze. “you’re taking things too far now”

“i know” his voice is a mere whisper, the words barely speak themself into existence, “i’m being selfish again, but you’ve gotta understand (y/n)”

“i can’t” you splutter, you feel tears treading your waterline “put yourself in his shoes, c’mon satoru we’ve seen him at his worst, why would we do something that could hurt him?”

“i’m not doing this to hurt megumi, i’m doing this to protect yuuji”

“just think about it please” you frowned, “if instead of executing suguru they kept him alive and let us think he was dead, you’d never forgive them”

he doesn’t miss the way your voice catches over the three syllables. he doesn’t miss the way your fingers tremble against his forearm. he hates this — arguing with you, he could think of infinite things he’d rather do than this.

“that’s different” his voice is wavering now, “suguru made his choice, yuuji didn’t ask for any of this” he winces as the words fall from his lips. to think he’d stooped to speaking ill of the dead. he doesn’t believe that, not really.

“you still wouldn’t forgive them” you prompted, “and i don’t want ‘gumi to go through any more, tsumiki being in a coma is hard enough as it is”

“i know baby, i know” satoru says softly, he cups your trembling face in his hands and places the sweetest of kisses on the tears that threaten to stream down your cheeks, “trust me on this okay? he’ll be fine i promise”

“okay” you nod, letting your husband, your one and only, wipe away the tears spilling over your lashes.

satoru could really kill the higher ups for putting him in this position. one where he nearly sacrificed his wife’s happiness for something as insignificant as jujutsu sorcery. with his lips still pressed to the corners of yours, he makes a silent vow with himself

it would be you before everything. it was you before everything

“you’re so beautiful” he whispers, his thumb grazing your bottom lip “you. are. everything. to. me” he punctuates each word with a kiss. his lips committing every inch of you to memory

they ghost over your cheek, your quivering lip, your shoulder, your wrist, and finally the silver wedding band encasing your ring finger. and they linger on the cool silver for what seems to be eternity before satoru speaks up again

“dance with me?” he prompts, although he’s not really asking. he’s already whisking you onto your feet and starting up the record player. the vinyl spins on its axis, as constant as his infinite love for you.

“what?” you sniffed slightly, “like we did in our first year?”

“like we did in our first year”

satoru’s hands were on your hip, drawing you closer, he felt your chest brush against his for a second as he leaned into you. you swayed gently side to side, keeping in time with the intricate melodies streaming from the gramophone

his six eyes tell him his student is watching, listening. curious doe eyes peeking from the stairwell. he doesn’t mind. satoru had never been one to hide his affection. you were his. and he was infinitely yours.

“can i tell you a secret?” satoru murmurs, as he twirls you back into his arms. he wishes he could stay like this forever. with you. he’d selfishly sacrifice the universe to keep having moments like this. he would kill for you. he’s positive he would. he’d do it without hesitation.

“i thought we didn’t have any of those” you quipped. satoru feels his heart melting. watching the sadness in your eyes fade into utter bliss was like watching the sun come out after a rainy day. maybe even better.

“it’s a good one i promise” he grins, you raise a brow sceptically but you’re listening “i was the one who fell head over heels in love with you. way back in our first year…and i didn’t even know what love was, i was so confused”

“when did you know?” you asked, “you always say you knew the moment you saw me, but you were an asshole then”

“it was the first time we snuck out together” he admits, “when we went to that night market. you were right, i was jealous of suguru but could you blame me? i wanted you all to myself”

“you’ve always been so greedy” you giggled. satoru doesn’t need the six eyes to see that you love him regardless. it’s evident in the tenderness of your tone and the way your (e/c) sparkle when you look at him

“cut me some slack baby” he groans “i’m trying to be romantic”

“you don’t need to try, i heard through the grapevine i can’t resist your charms” you hummed

satoru cracks a smile at the inside joke, a slow symphony of contentment.he kisses you again and it’s sweet and full of blind adoration. loving you is his religion. the only thing he’s wholly committed to. your hands looped around his neck, carefully avoiding the ever-so-sensitive scar that ran beneath his chin

your hands founds repose in the soft strands of his hair, carefully threading through the ivory curls. satoru could feel himself melting into you, he clung to you as if he was scared to let go and his calloused hands clutched at the warmth that radiated from your skin. he was so impossibly close you could feel his eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

yuuji peered at the scene with stars in his eyes. he knew he should look away. that this moment was sacred, strictly for the two of you. but he’d never seen gojo like this before — completely vulnerable, completely himself in the confines of your embrace.

here he wasn’t the strongest, the richest, the one-man clan, the one whose mere existence shifted the balance of the world. here, he wasn't satoru gojo, he wasn't gojo-sensei, he was just 'toru.

#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #❛ 五条悟 ❜#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #⭑ : js ‘toru gave me js george vibes #i love gojo too much pls sedate me <3

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ivyjupiterwrites · 1 month

Text

Not that this would ever happen, but like food for thought:

Ghost losing his military ID and you finding it. I know he doesn't have a photo on his file but Id like to think he needs some form of identification? No? It's fictional it doesn't matter anyways--

You were tidying up, sweeping and such when you saw a card face down. Immediately you recognized the back of the little shiny plastic ID and a smile rose to your lips.

Some poor bugger had been dumb enough to drop their card.

Going over to it, you were practically rubbing your hands together with anticipation of just who the noob was. Upon snatching it up from the linoleum, you eagerly flipped it over, but were left with immense confusion.

Who the fuck is this guy?

Your brows furrowed as your eyes flickered over the picture hungrily. You'd never seen him before in your life, which you considered a pity really. He was handsome, that you had to admit, yet a stranger all the same.

It was only after lingering seconds of taking in every square inch of the photo, attempting desperately to place a name to the face did you hazard a look at the actual name of who owned it.

Silence encapsulated you in your entirety. The music which lowly played overhead was muffled out, the slight sound of your breathing faded and the tweeting from the birds just outside the window halted.

You were staring at the ID of none other than one Lieutenant Simon Riley.

Blinking dumbly, a strange, tinging sensation began spreading through your limbs at this forbidden knowledge. How had he managed to lose his card? How the hell were you supposed to return it without giving yourself away or up??

Slapping it down upon the table with the back facing upwards, you have a five minute brain storming session on what to do. Involved in the matter was much pacing, along with sweats, shakes and the occasional pause to flip the card over and sneak another peek.

Eventually you decided that it would be easiest to either slip it under his door. So you take a sticky, place it over his face, write him a small note and set off on your return journey.

You sprint away from the scene, not wanting to be caught mid return. Not exactly considering the more of a rush you make yourself seem in, the more guilty you looked.

It didn't take long before you saw him next, stomping around, throwing things aside recklessly. You could practically feel the flames shooting off of him with how pissed he was; and against your better judgement, you suggest he maybe go look in his room.

That perhaps, just perhaps, some good samaritan had found it. Your feeble attempts to ease his mind absolutely did not help, but he did follow your advice and went and checked. Sure you hadn't been the most casual, but it was better than the unhinged fit of rage you knew he was undoubtedly immersed in.

Lividly he clomps away, storming off to his residence to--in his mind--be met with nothing.

Or so he assumed.

Your vaguely pointed directions solidify the funky feeling in his chest when he opens his door and the card is actually there. Narrowing his masked gaze, he reaches down to the downwards facing ID and plucked it from the floor.

As he grabs it, his fingers brush against something other than just the cards hard plastic. Flipping it over, he finds it the sticky note you had placed over the picture and on it, in pretty writing was "keep better watch of this next time handsome, who knows who could've found it ;)"

He looks up into his room from the card, a mixture of emotions but confused was the biggest currently. His anger had to take a back seat as his mind was thrown into a mixture of emotions and thoughts. His mind is conjuring up a thousand different possibilities, yet none of them fit.

At least not well enough for his liking, however plausible.

He never directly calls you out, as that would mean he would also have to loudly state he had lost his ID in the first place. Instead of saying much of anything to you, he simply opted to watch you from there on out. Leering from the corner to see if you acted weird.

And since he always gives you heart palpitations, and there wasn't excactly a time you weren't making a fool of yourself in front of him, he had nothing new to observe.

Deep down in his soul--he knows.

bonus:

Ghost rides the instinctual feeling until one day during a meeting when Price gets you to write on a whiteboard. "You have much better writing than my old scratching, be a dear and jot this down for me?"

Compliantly, thinking nothing of it, you begin to do just as asked and jot down whatever Price is listing off to you across the board. Attempting to make it as neat and legible as possible, you were in your zone and all thoughts of the ID incident pushed to the back of your mind.

And there he is met with the neat, beautifully scrawled writing yet again and it's a very intense but silent mini freak out full circle connect the dots where he's like 'I KNEW IT DAMMIT!!!!' but very casually without any movement whatsoever aside from maybe a slight eye widen.

#simon ghost riley #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2

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tonycries · 2 months

Text

Love Is Blind

Synopsis. Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out. Face stuffed desperately between your thighs and nose-deep in your cunt, he knows his glasses are bound to get dirty - but that’s half the fun.

Pairing. Multiple x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cunnilingus, oral sex (female receiving) he’s a bit mean but sexy, glasses kink (??!!?), pet names (angel, baby), swearing.

Word count. 1.2k

A/N. My way of coping with only being able to wear fake glasses.

Art by @_3aem on X.

Boys who don’t take their glasses off until after they eat you out.

His hair was askew, lips stinging, and glasses lopsided from the feral make-out session he’d pulled you into right as he walked in through that damn door. Kissing you as if your lips were the source of life itself.

He knows he’s being rougher than usual. Nails digging neat crescents into your pretty thighs as he bullies your legs apart on the cold kitchen counter. Pushing his glasses back up, he has to bite back a groan at your glistening cunt. Shit, all he did was throw you around a bit and you’re already so wet for him.

You’d been teasing him all morning before work. Wearing that damn short skirt - his favorite - and batting your lashes at him in a way you knew would have you bent over and stuffed full of his cock in seconds.

Fuck whoever invented the work week, he’d rather stay in bed with his pretty girl till the neighbors file a noise complaint again.

Yet, for the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you - fucking his fist pathetically in that dingy work bathroom - you were going to pay tonight.

Almost in a trance, he barely registers the pain as his knees hit the tile desperately, brows furrowed as if in the depths of prayer. Perhaps he was - lustful gaze looking over his frames to flicker indecisively between your half-lidded eyes and kiss-bitten lips, which move to whimper “Hngh- Baby, I need your mouth on me so bad.”

Ah, he really had a goddess splayed out and aching for him.

“Mm, oh really?” he breathes hotly over your quivering pussy, glasses slightly fogging up as he teases himself just as much as you. The slow torture was delicious.

“Yes!.”

A smug smile spreads across his face.

You flinch when the cold plastic of his glasses touches your throbbing clit as his face meets your cunt, tongue flattening against your swollen folds - not yet dipping inside. You gasp at the sensation, the lack of what you crave so badly.

He feels drunk off the pretty mewls escaping your mouth, mind almost hazy enough to go easy on you. Almost.

“Get my glasses dirty and you’ll be making up for it, angel.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your pussy that have it clenching around nothing.

Lewd squelches fill the air as his tongue slides teasingly between your folds in an unhurried rhythm that has your hips bucking for more. “Behave.” he warns, fingers holding your hips so firmly in place that he’s sure he leaves marks.

“B-but…want you inside me. Want to come around your tongue, baby.”

Shit, you were so good at winding him up, knowing everything that makes him tick.

But all he can remember is the little smirk curling around your lips as you bent over in that godforsaken skirt right as he was one step out the door on the way to an urgent meeting.

This time, he wanted to play with you a little more.

He breathes you in so sinfully as his nose catches on your pulsing clit, finally giving you an ounce of the friction you’ve been craving so desperately.

“Hah- Don’t stop.” you beg.

Doing exactly the opposite, he pulls away, your slick forming a pretty gloss all over his bruised lips - dangerously close to where his glasses rested on his nose.

“Oh? Thought you were holding out on me, angel. Where did that go?” he cocks his head, chuckling at your frustrated whines.

“I’m sorry baby. Hngh-” he cuts you off with a long lick dipping into your dripping hole playfully.

“Yeah?” he hums.

“Yes.”

“Won’t make me pop a boner during meetings anymore?” he whispers, lips ghosting a hair’s breadth from where you needed him the most.

“No- please! I’ll be good for you.” you sputter out.

Now, in all his years of loving you, he’s done everything he can so that you never shed a tear when you’re with him. Even going so far as to smother you in kisses to try and make you smile each time the dog dies in those damn sappy movies during date night.

But right now, the impatient tears that cling to your lashes at his actions make his cock twitch, a carnal part of him delighting in your desperation for him.

“Tell me what you want, my angel.”

“Fuck me with your tongue…please.” your whimpers send blood rushing straight to his already painfully hard cock.

The heat of his tongue and the sex in the air as he dives nose-deep into your dripping pussy has condensation building up on his glasses. His tongue attacks your hole ruthlessly, dipping in and out at a pace that has you gripping the counter for support, “Ah! Yes! Keep going, baby.”

His lips make out with your dripping cunt with a lust that eclipses the need for air. A desperation for your essence. Who needs to breathe when he prefers to be smothered by his girl’s pretty pussy.

He moans around your entrance as your juices gush around his tongue, glasses pressing against his face when he pushes his face impossibly closer to your hot core. His eyes roll to the back of his head at your addictive taste. His favorite.

Yelps of his name leave your mouth at each tight circle of his tongue on your clit, only pushing him to suck harder.

He relishes in how messy you are, slick now starting to drip around the corners of his mouth. Absolutely convinced that he’s losing more and more of his grip on reality at each tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor.

His glasses have now completely fogged up, forcing him to continue his abuse on your pussy through pure, feral need. Won’t be long now, he thinks at your breathless moans.

Your juices smearing all over his mouth and nose, he feels you clenching down on him as he ramps up the harsh movements of his mouth. “Jus’ like that. Shit, I’m gonna-” your mewls echo across the room.

You come fast and hard all over his mouth - and his glasses, as he had known you would.

His heavenly sight of your dripping cunt is now blurred by your slick covering the glass, dripping down the side of his frames and onto the kitchen floor. He could barely see a damn thing, but he knows he fucking loves it.

What is it that they say? Love is blind?

He chuckles lowly as you try and catch your breath, legs twitching in sensitivity on the counter.

Slowly removing his glasses, he runs a finger along them, inspecting the mess his girl’s slutty pussy has made. He collects your sweet juices before popping a finger in his mouth - unable to help himself.

He groans at the taste - shit, he should really make you taste yourself later.

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm, your dazed eyes follow him as he stands to his full height, towering above you.

You see the slight curve of his grin before he deftly slides his glasses onto the bridge of your nose. Legs still spread and feeling the weight of his glasses, you feel so exposed - like you’ve fallen right into his trap.

“Now, now, angel…” he tuts, fingers unbuttoning his tight pants, cock straining for relief.

“What did I say about dirtying my glasses?”

- GOJO, Nanami, Armin, TSUKISHIMA, KUROO, OIKAWA, Kunikida

A/N. Pretend that Kuroo and Armin wear glasses okay. Also apologies if you saw this before, other post was being buggy and I’m still trynna figure stuff out.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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eilidh-eternal · 3 months

Text

Thinking about tattoo artist Ghost who notices you in the studio quite often. Who recognizes the signs of using tattoos as a thinly veiled coping mechanism and can’t help but think that there’s a… better… way for you to cope. Ways that he can help you with. Things he can teach you that don’t involve needles but would still leave his mark on your skin.

You need him.

You’ve just finished up your session with Soap, finalizing the payment with him at the front desk, when you feel a looming presence at your back.

Ghost.

“Um… hi?” He’s the only one of them you haven’t sat for. Over the last few months you’d worked your way through nearly the entire staff at the studio, amassing a collection of new pieces like a kid collecting happy meal toys in the summer–often and to the detriment of your bank account.

“You're with me next week.” His tone brooks no argument. “Soap, what do I have open next Saturday?”

“I can’t, I–”

“Ye’re open from two to close.”

“Book her. The full day.”

“What?!”

“Got somethin’ special drawn up that I’ve been holdin’ onto. We can make adjustments when you come in. See ya next weekend.“ He saunters back to his station without another word.

Well.

Despite the odd nature of the encounter, you go. ‘Just to see what he’s drawn up,’ you tell yourself. In actuality, you’d had a hell of a week and were itching, chomping at the bit, for the bite of a needle by the time the appointment came around. And damn him it’s good. Really fucking good. Fits your aesthetic perfectly and his suggested placement isn’t far off from where you would have chosen yourself.

Fuck it.

You let him do it. Follow him down the hall to the private room, nod when he tells you to get comfortable and that he just needs to grab one more thing from his station and he’ll be right back.

You’re stripped down to your panties and the oversized hoodie you brought in, big enough to drape and maneuver out of his way while maintaining a bit of modesty, when he comes back.

“You bring water? Somethin’ to eat during breaks?” he asks as he sets a water bottle of his own on the counter. You nod and his head tilts ever so slightly. “Need words, sweetheart.”

“Yes. I did.”

Not the first time an artist has asked the question, but his insistence on a verbal answer is a curious deviation from your typical experience here. Soap certainly didn’t wait for your answer before he had his arm slung over your ass to ‘steady himself’ while needling a trail of stars down your spine a few weeks ago.

“Alright, let’s get you settled then. Down.’ He presses on your shoulder, pushing you down onto the reclined chair. “We doin it on the left or right?” His hands linger on either side of you, bent at the waist to hover over your frame.

“Uh, you said right would look best… with the other pieces? So um… yeah. The right.”

There’s a flicker behind the richness of his eyes. Something dark and smoky the seeps into the irises.

“Lookit you. Listen real well, don’t ya?”

What?

He leaves you with mere milliseconds to process. “On your side. Let’s get you stenciled.” His hand trails along your ribs, glides over the bulky fabric of the hoodie and tugs. Pulls at the pocket on the front to get you moving. “Good girl,” he purrs when you comply, shifting onto your left side and folding your arms close to your chest. “Up.” He helps you lift your head and slides a pillow under you. Does the same with your knees, pillow pressed between them to stabilize your hips.

“Thanks…” It comes out in a dazed mumble and he simply hums, as if all of this is… normal.

It isn’t. You know that. Nothing about him says normal.

The mask. His insistence—no, his demand—that you book a session with him. The way his tone brooks no argument or excuse. How some baser instinct tells you to heed his demands. Traitorous fluttering of nerves in your stomach and the heat pooling between your legs.

The black nitrile gloves clinging to his hands like a second skin are cold against your leg. Makes you twitch when long fingers push the hem of your hoodie over your hip and hook underneath the narrow waistband of your thong. “Just moving this up a bit,” he says and pulls it up to your waist, elastic pulling taught against the crease of your thigh and digging into the skin. Pressing against your pulsing core.

The cleanser is even colder and comes with no warning, but the warmth of him has begun to bleed through his gloves. Melts into your skin as he cleans his canvas and runs a hand over your hip in appraisal.

“Got a little fuzz,” he says more to himself than you, thumb swiping over the fine dusting of hair. The muscles in your back tense in an effort to fight against the shudder threatening to snake down your spine, skin burning beneath the massive hand that lingers on your thigh.

He’s precise about it, removing the hair with slow and even passes of the razor and going back over the area with disinfectant. “Doin’ so good for me, layin’ nice an’ still while I shave ya. Bet ya sit like a champ.”

Your eyes go wide, lips falling open in a silent gasp, and you’re thankful he’s currently bent over your hip and can’t see the shock written plain as day on your face. You blink. Force your brows to lower and snap your mouth shut before you say something stupid like ‘thank you.’

The stencil goes on in silence but you can feel his eyes on you. More precisely, on your face. Curious and observant. You’re so focused on not looking at him that you don’t hear him rise from his stool. Don’t register that he’s moved until he’s leaning over you and curling a finger under your chin to turn your face up towards the ceiling. Towards him.

“There she is. Let’s have a look, yeah?”

Why does he want to look at—?

The stencil. He means the stencil. He wants you to look at the stencil.

“Okay…”

He drops your chin but makes no move to pull away from you as you sit up on your elbows, twisting to get a look at the purple carbon adorning your hip and thigh. You straighten out your leg, move it this way and that, looking for any odd stretching or scrunching.

“It looks good. I like it there. It um… You were right. About it being a good fit.” When you look up at him he’s already staring down at you, eyes trained on your face rather than the stencil with a dark, inky quality to them. Pupils expanding and swallowing up the light in the room.

“Course. Knew I’d be right about ya.”

You blink and it’s gone. No more wisps of smoke swirling in amber coals. The heat in them abated by whatever he sees in you.

You have no idea what he sees in you.

He does, however, give you a reprieve when he straightens and moves to the counter to begin mixing ink while the stencil dries.

The air around you feels colder when you settle back on your side, sapped of your warmth by small touches and lingering glances. Like he’s purposely stoked a fire in you just to take from and warm himself with.

“Seen you ‘round here a lot. Got quite the collection.”

It doesn’t sound like a question, and you’re not sure if he’s expecting an answer, but you give him one anyway. Feels… wrong, not to.

“I like the work you guys do.” You’ve sat for all of them. John. Gaz. Soap. And now Ghost. Have their marks inked all over your body.

“That the only thing you like?” The broad expanse of his back is the only thing you can see, but you have a feeling that if you could see the sliver of his face visible behind the mask he’d have that same even stare he always has on the studio floor.

“Gaz is nice to look at,” you offer, and hear him huff behind you.

“That so?”

“Soap has steady hands. They wander a bit, but his lines are the best I’ve seen. Tit for tat I suppose.”

“And Cap?”

“Who? Oh, you mean John?”

“The old man ‘imself.” He turns then, arranging the ink on the rolling tray between the two of you, and you catch the dart of his eyes in your direction before they shift back to his station. “He doesn’t normally do the kinda work pretty things like you come looking for.”

“I- um…” He keeps tripping you up. Making you stumble over the words in your head with compliments and praise and firm hands and–

“You like the pain.” Your gaze jerks towards him, tracks his movements as he lowers himself down onto the stool. “Cap’s got a heavy hand,” he clarifies, but it’s too late for excuses. Your reaction only confirms what he already knows.

“That– I don’t… I don’t like it. It just…” His eyes are locked on you, simmering with something in the molten depths of them that reels you in against your will. Compels you to spill secret truths to a stranger. “It makes everything else quiet, for a little while…” You sink your teeth into your lower lip with the admission, eyes slipping away from the intensity burning in his to settle on a fleck in the wood grain of the cabinet.

Silence stretches long and thick between the two of you, the only sound in the room coming from the speakers spilling music out of the ceiling and the little clicks and taps of him preparing the various tips and needles for his machine. The wheels on his chair whine as they roll forward, forcing him into your field of vision once more.

Warmth floods your cheeks, rushes up your neck to your ears in a simmering wave of vulnerability, and you can't look away when he leans down to peer into your face. “There's other ways to make it quiet, ya know.”

You toy with the drawstring of your hood, debating how pathetic you’d look if you pulled it over your face and hid from his probing gaze the rest of this session.

“Stop.” Your fingers freeze. The sternness of his tone has your eyes flicking cautiously back to his, apology ready on your tongue, expecting further reprimand. “You’re thinkin’ too much.”

Yes.

“That what you need, hm? Someone to make that pretty head take a break for a little while?”

Yes please. You offer him a timid nod.

“What’d I say about that?” he chides, folding his arms over his knees.

Your mouth feels dry, stuffed with cotton, and tongue heavy on its floor. “Sorry.” It comes out scratchy and an octave too high. Too needy.

“‘S okay, sweetheart. You’re still learning the rules, but we’ll get ya there,” he croons, hand coming up to chuck you under your chin.

“Rules?”

“Yes sweetheart, rules. You only have two for today. When I ask you a question, I need a verbal answer. Can you do that for me?” His voice carries with authority and his eyes remain fixed on yours, awaiting your acknowledgement.

“Yes.” A touch smoother this time, despite the tightness lingering in your throat.

“Good girl,” he purrs, petting a hand over your hair as he straightens and shifts further down towards your hip, pulling his tray along with him. You hear the buzzing of the machine when he begins fine tuning, testing the speed and picking up ink.

“Your second rule,” he says as he leans forward, big, gloved hand coming to rest on your waist and the other hovering over the stencil, needle poised just above your skin. “If ya need a break, tell me. And–” He gives your waist a firm squeeze. “—squeeze this arm if ya need more. Got it?”

It takes a moment for the full weight of what he’s offering to sink in, for neurons and synapses to catch up with the realization of it.

“Got it.” You watch the mask pull taught over his mouth. He’s smiling.

“So good for me already,” he murmurs, grip tightening on your waist a fraction. “Let’s get started on your ink then, yeah?”

The first pass of the needle traces a line on the outside of your thigh, a long, curved section, and already you can feel the quiet creeping in amid the bite of broken skin and the buzz of his warm hands pressed against you.

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