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toji-bunny-girl · 4 months

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𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓✩’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓

CHARACTERS— Santa!Gojo Satoru x pretty sexy gorgeous fem!reader SUMMARY— Supposedly another Christmas night being lonely and horny, you’re suddenly woken up by Santa coming to claim you your Christmas gift. WORD COUNT— 3k+ CONTENT WARNING— slight angst, swearing, smut, porn with plot, virginity lost, fingering, clit sucking, oral sex, no protection A/N— Merry Christmas, my fellow bitchless angels 😔 Ya’ll better not let this shit flop or else I’m going insane. btw guys God literally told me face-to-face that my dog is cuter than your pet 😨 it’s true tho

“So,” your co-worker, Mina started as she haled the roll-up gate down, flipping her long extensions behind her shoulder before grabbing the lock from your extended hand, “got any plans this Christmas?”

“I don’t know…I’ll probably go out with my friends to the new cat cafe. You?” you watched as her fingers worked deftly to lock the gate before trying to pull it open in an attempt to make sure she got it locked.

“Kai wants to visit Ginzan Onsen, said it’ll be the best place to ‘make love’ or something. I mean, long story short he thinks it’s a cute place to fuck,” Mina apprised, always a little bit too forward with her wordings—her bold personality and style amolous from yours.

Albeit she’s amiable and kind, you still couldn’t quite get used to her blatant forwardness despite working with her for the past 5 months. And Mina loved teasing you about how sensitive you are; already blushing from the mere word ‘fuck’.

“Look at how cute you are, (Y/N). Your face is starting to get red!” she giggled, pointing as you hit her arm, feeling your cheeks warming against the cold winter air. “You know, they say the shy-est are usually the kinkiest…”

“Just leave me alone, Mina!” you embarrassingly whined, slapping a palm over her glossed lips before pushing her away. She lets out a few satisfied laughs before raising her hands up in capitulation, already knowing when to stop before you get irritated at her.

“Alright, I’m sorry, ‘kay baby?” she cooed, plump lower lips jutting out into a pout as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“You keep teasing me,” you frowned and pushed her stubborn hands off of you before you began walking towards the train station.

“Cuz’ you’re so cute. You’re always acting like such a virgin,” her arm hung over your shoulders and your body sunk forward at the sudden weight.

“Now, is there a problem with that…” you spoke lowly, flickering your sight towards her, wary of her reaction.

“You cannot be shitting me?!” Mina widened her eyes, two elder couples turning their attention on her egregious tone, “I mean like, look at you! You’re so pretty and such a good girl. Who wouldn’t want you?! I want you!”

“I don’t know…I just haven’t met the one.”

“There’s tons of guys who want you, (Y/N)! You gotta be a little bold, get out of your shell if you wanna meet ‘your one’.”

“Man…I just wish someone perfect for me who isn’t a creep would come to me,” you sighed, your hand holding onto Mina’s dangling one over your neck. Nearing the station, you could see Kai, her boyfriend already waiting by the entrance for her—probably heading to dinner together later on.

“You’ll find one for sure,” she glanced at you, a bright reassuring smile on her face, and you returned her one before feeling the weight on your shoulders lifted when she pulled her arm away, then waved at Kai.

“So, how was work today?” the male strode over, his two hands reaching out to hold Mina’s from the pockets of his coat before turning to greet you.

“It’s fine, lots of couples today,” she replied, following as you passed the ticket gate and rode the escalator up to the platform. “And as usual, we got a few single lads asking for our pretty girl’s Line today.”

“Yeah, and you forgot to add that they’re either delinquents or high school boys,” the two couples chortled as you sighed, tired of how you’re always attracting guys who are definitely not your type.

“We’re gonna have to get security for our candy shop because of our (Y/N), huh?” Mina joked, nudging Kai’s side with her shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

Within seconds, the bells signaling the coming arrival of the train started, the train announcer apprising the next destination as Shinjuku-sanchōme—20 minutes until you reach your home station.

“Sorry, (Y/N). Kai and I are gonna ride another train to Shinbashi so we can’t go in with you,” the train had arrived and the doors slid open as workmen and women surged in like sea waves.

“No, no! It’s fine. Happy holidays, guys,” you smiled as you began to follow the crowd into the half-packed train.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N)!” the two bid, Mina waving all the while.

“Enjoy your trip to Ginzan, you two!” you giggled, slightly waving back before jumping onto the train just as its doors began to slide close. The smell of heater and sweat filled your nose and as you swiftly scanned your sight around, you saw most smiling at their phones, probably texting their loved ones, and a few couples giggling in their seats.

Another lonely Christmas, you thought.

Your stomach was growling as you prowled the streets for the nearest convenience store. The sky was already blanketed with darkness and you thought visiting any restaurant would only mount your forlornness, so you figured a quick meal from the store would do for your hunger.

The luminously salient sign of your local convenience store caught your eyes from a distance away, and you hurriedly scorched towards the store. Entering, the cashier greeted you when the automated door slid open with a ding to announce your presence, and you nodded your head with a smile before trodding your way to the back where packed bentos were.

Your eyes raked over the bentos, looking for your favourite Katsudon to find it absent from the display. A surge of annoyance rose in you as your brow knitted into a frown, ‘Can’t even have my Katsudon, huh?’. Grabbing the nearest bento instead, you made your way to the cashier while rummaging through your bag for your wallet.

“Do you want your bento heated up, miss?” the male mooted, a serviceable smile on his face. He caught your affirmative hum before setting the food in the microwave, and silence then transpired between the two of you.

The smell of the heating fried rice pervaded through the air in the wake of the anticipated ‘ding’. The cashier took out the bento and wrapped it in a plastic bag before handing you both the plastic and a card, “Thank you for your purchase, and Merry Christmas!”

You thanked the male and claimed your things before heading out of the store with another ‘ding’, throwing the card into the plastic bag and burying your hands deep in the warmth of your pockets.

What seemed to be your wontedly peaceful route back home suddenly became a path of silent lonesomeness. At that moment, you must be colder than anyone else in Japan. While they have the love and heat of a lover to warm them up—you had no one but yourself.

The walk home was longer than usual and you immediately turned on the heater when you entered your apartment, feeling your limbs beginning to numb. Taking out a few beer cans from the fridge, you set them on the small chabudai along with your cooling packed dinner—ready to scarf down your meal.

It took you an empty bento box and two beer cans to notice the Christmas card the cashier gave you on the wooden floor, probably dropped when you took the packaged meal out of the plastic bag. You could feel yourself getting tipsy as the alcohol set in your veins, rushing to your brain and making it all light and woozy.

“Christmas…Wish?” you read the bold, cursive title aloud, eyes absorbing the contents on the card.

Write a wish on this card and Santa shall grant what you seek!

Aren’t these for kids or something? Why would the cashier give you something like this? It’s obviously fake, but for you to think of a wish…you would love to be a millionaire. Or a billionaire. Or have a pet cat. Or…

Heading to your bedroom to get your pen, you trodded back to the chabudai where the card was, taking your time to ruminate on what to write just for the fun of it. Perhaps it was the alcohol thumping in your pulse, absorbing whatever sense you have in your head as it passed your bloodstream—you found yourself injudiciously scribbling something you normally wouldn’t.

Lose my virginity.

Fire popped beneath the skin of your cheeks as you stared at the piece of card with your writing on it. “I must have gotten insane…” you sighed, rubbing your eyebrows.

Maybe a wash would clear your head, you thought. The beer was making you drowsy and you’d better have an early night. You don’t take long with your shower and you were quick to set your things aside and take out the trash.

It was only 10 but you’ve already settled yourself in your bed, sleepiness blanketing over your head. Your eyelids began to shut, sending you to an abyss of peace and dream.

Then, there was shuffling. And mumbles.

Your consciousness drew back to reality and through your dazed state—you tried to make sense of the noises. Until you began to sober up, there was no one but you in your apartment. No pets nor roommates to be making up all these sounds.

“Who’s there?” you panicked, straining your eyes through the dark, to find a tall silhouette in your room. A sense of aghast rumbled through your being and a shriek ripped itself out of your throat.

You fumbled for something from your bedside table to act as a weapon, and the most threatening object there was was your lamp. At least you could smash it against the intruder and bolt out of your apartment for help.

And as you tried to rip the lamp’s cord out of the socket, its light turned on—revealing the stranger to be…Santa?

“(Y/N), is it?” the male chuckled, rubbing his nape.

“Who are you?!” you screamed, pointing the lamp at him. “Get out of my house, please!”

“Just relax, man. I’m Santa, here to grant you your Christmas wish!”

“Look, I’m just a broke college student! I-I don’t have anything with me. Just leave and I won’t call the cops,” you tried to reason, already starting to break down into hiccups and tears

“Well, I'm sorry. It’s my policy to not leave a house unless I’ve successfully fulfilled one’s desires. So, I won’t be leaving anytime soon!”

“W-What…?” you were beyond dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the random lunatic standing in your room.

“This,” he pointed at the card from the convenience store. “Here, your wish says…to lose your virginity,” the male cladded in his Santa suit bemusedly read aloud.

“No…! I wrote that as a joke!”

“Well, I don’t take Christmas wishes as a joke,” he lifted an eyebrow, resting his hands on his hips.

“Just cut it out, Santa isn’t real,” you retorted, tightening your grip on the handle of the lamp.

“But I am real,” his voice suddenly became closer, and more lucid, his frame had disappeared from your sight—as if he was suddenly gone and had dissipated into space. Whipping your head behind, you found him just there and a scream cracked out of your lungs as you tumbled out of your bed.

“H-How…Wha—“

“I can teleport, y’know?” he smiled, reaching out a hand to pull you up from the floor. “And I can make anything out of thin air,” his other hand rose to have a random Dior bag in his grasp as you stared, shocked and finding it hard to register the scene in front of you.

“So, you’re really…Santa Claus?”

“Yes, and my real name’s Gojo Satoru—at your service,” he slurred, and you found his voice smooth like freshly woven silk. You were silent and still, eyes widening at the white-haired male in front of you. “Speaking of your Christmas wish…”

Your face burst into florid red as you awkwardly laughed, “Could you please just forget about that?”

“Now, if you’ve read carefully; no changing or refusing of wishes once you’ve written ‘em down,” he pointed at the small text at the bottom of the card, “You must’ve missed it just now.”

Thinking over the situation, something in you cracked as you realised—you were going to lose your virginity to Santa Claus. Your eyelids twitched as you nervously chuckled. This gotta be a heck of a joke.

“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” Gojo had caught your expression, and as if he was reading your thoughts, his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

“T-Then what are we supposed to do now?” you asked, switching your gaze away and feeling hot embarrassment tickling your skin.

“No need to worry,” Gojo gave a reassuring smirk, “just trust me.”

Alright, trust.

You felt the bed shift with his weight, and he was hovering over you—face mere inches away. His eyes seemed to sparkle like those of a diamond; blue stars orbiting in his orbs, and you note the plump shape of his lips, so visually kissable.

For the second time, as if he had caught your thoughts, he let his lips mould into yours. He felt soft and plump like peach, and he smelled like a merge of snow and warmth.

Your lips danced in the dark, and your body leaned forward towards him as he fell back, something about the kiss was unbreakable. It felt so soft, it felt so good.

You let his hands wander around your curves from underneath your pyjamas, meet the shape of your hips and dips of your waist, then the roundness of your breasts. You let him study your body with the cold tips of his fingers and slip your clothes off when he wanted to.

A soft moan slipped out of your tongue when the cold December air hit your nipples, and Gojo took no time to let his tongue play with your buds. His hands continued to roam around your body, pressing a finger against the wet spot through your pants.

“You fine with this?” he pointed at the way his fingers slid over your clothed core. You wordlessly nodded, drifting your sight away before you felt yourself benignly pushed onto your back, your pants slowly slipping off of your legs along with your panties.

You were bare, in front of a man you’ve met tonight. But at the same time, you felt oddly safe with him. This was only a wish come true and nothing more, you affirmed.

His long fingers began to reach deep inside, and your nerves tingled at where they caressed your walls. His pace switched after a few pumps and his fingers were dextrously pistoning in and out of your cunt. You could hear your erotic slick coating his digits as it follows his rhythm, and your cheeks burn hot in shyness.

His face lowered to your pussy, and his tongue began playing with your clit. A sharp mewl escaped from your lips as his cheeks hallowed from sucking on your nub and his fingers paced up over the gummy spot deep inside.

Pleasure began amassing in your nerves and you could feel yourself brimming over the edge of lucidity. Gojo didn’t stop and instead, fastened his digits in and out of you, the sound of sex was loud through your state of delirium and he was coaxing all the pleasure there was in you.

Then, you spilled. Your thighs tightened around his head, fingers gripping onto his white locks as you’re sent to a world of blank bliss. Gojo peeks up at you as you pause with your lips parted, edges of eyebrows sewn to the stars, and half a wail stayed choked in your throat.

“You alright?” he chuckled, raising his upper body to your blushed face. You didn't say a word and drove your tongue into his mouth, arms locking him closer to you. The shared heat between your two bodies warmed the air around you, and you thought maybe that’s what it feels like to have a lover.

“Yeah,” you breathed, still ever so shy yet for once, a daring timbre crawled through your tone. “I think I’m ready…”

“If princess wants it,” his lips crack into a smile against yours, pants pulled down and hand pumping his length, fat tip lined against your entrance. Peeking down, regret almost settled into your being when you saw his size. Would it fit?

Then, he saw you and reassured you that he would go slow. No need to worry and to trust. So, you did. Bashfully spreading your thighs open for him.

Your muscles squeezed when he first entered, and he let out a long groan with a pause to his hips. It took a few seconds until he began to move, this time with a thumb rolling your clit to loosen your grip. Every inch of his cock stretched into your cunt made you go almost insane—the pain that first came was soon replaced with a delicate buzz of pleasure.

His hips were slow to thrust at first, gentle and soft until your walls had adjusted to his girth. Your little moans began to fill the chilly air when he slowly started to quicken up, and the bed began to squeak along with his rhythm.

“You look so pretty, y’know?” like silk, slinking through the hot air and into your ears. Every time his curved tip kisses your G-spot, you feel blank—blank of pleasure and stimulation. He could see it in your face, always able to read your features so well.

“Mmhp—” you let out a moan when he pulled your hips closer to him, fucking deep into your squelching cunt. Your back arched from the way his cock rubbed against your walls, hands over your mouth to muffle your whines.

“I wanna hear your pretty moans, (Y/N),” Gojo teased, softly leading your hands into his before fucking himself harder, deeper inside of you.

“Nngh! Feels s-so good—haa!” your hips began to move with his, legs hugging him closer to you and the world seemed to be on vertigo. Pleasure pervaded through every single cell in your body and your blood was pumping loud in your ears. “Please, I wanna cum!”

“Whatever princess says,” you could hear the smirk in his quivering tone, and with a few deep thrusts, the coil inside of your womb snapped—and your essence wet his thighs; your shaky moans high-pitched and sharp. “Yeah, pretty girl. Just like that.”

Static shot through your nerves, and your clit throbs against the hot air. Gojo let a thumb circle your nub, rubbing it through your climax as your nails sink into the skin of his arm. You could feel the warm mix of cum slipping out of your lips, running down your skin and into the bedsheet.

Once again, you felt the bed shift, and the warmth that held you lifted away. Through your hazy sight, you saw his figure rising, “Merry Christmas, pretty.”

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actuallysaiyan · 4 months

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hii baby! I know you're not taking requests right now but maybe if you're looking for inspiration you could do some headcanons or something with the Uchiha's and spending a cold winter night with them? Like what are their favorite ways to keep warm? It can be NSFW or sw hehehe

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of trauma, mentions of drinking, kissing, non-massacre AU word count: 1.4k pairings: Sasuke Uchiha x Fem!Reader, Itachi Uchiha x Fem!Reader and Madara Uchiha x Fem!Reader a/n: I know this is going against my hiatus mention, but I've been wanting to write this request for so long! I hope you all enjoy, and if it gets popular enough, I might write a part 2 with Shisui, Obito and Izuna!

He’ll act like he doesn’t want the comfort and the company, but inside he’s dying for you to come over. Especially if it’s cold and there is snow falling outside. He’ll wait for you at his home in the old Uchiha compound, a fire burning bright in the fireplace.

You brave the winter cold for your lover, and you find him in comfortable clothes just waiting for you. Sasuke pretends to be nonchalant about the whole affair, but in reality he is so happy not to spend another lonely night alone.

You two settle by the fireplace, and he finds you something of his to wear. Once you’re both snuggled together, he mentions making some stew for dinner and for you both to spend the evening together fireside.

Sasuke and you prepare the food in the kitchen together, humming to some silly songs and bumping into one another every now and then. It puts a smile on his face to see you breathe life into this place after everything that’s happened.

After dinner, you help him clean up. You’re so good to him, it really warms his heart. Then you two head back towards the fireplace, a blanket is wrapped around the both of you. A bottle of wine is passed back and forth.

It doesn’t take Sasuke long to pounce on you. His lips are hungry for you. His touch is desperate. His hand caresses you all over as he begins to undress you. With the wine and the fire, things are heating up so fast.

Then he pushes you down onto the ground, his lips attaching to your neck and kissing down to your breasts as he removes your shirt. You look so beautiful like this, your cheeks so flushed and your eyes heavy with lust. Sasuke feels a warmth so deep inside of him,

He kisses you sweetly as he begins thrusting into you, the blanket on top of you both to keep the heat between you two. He feels so in love right now. Nothing could make this situation any better.

But he’s proven wrong when you cup his face and bring him in for such a romantic and loving kiss. You put so much love into everything you do with Sasuke, and while he thinks you’re too good for him, you prove to him that he deserves love.

He cums so deep inside of you, with a loud cry of love. It’s all so passionate and sensual as he rides out his high. As he slowly comes down, he rests his head on your breasts and catches his breath. Then he looks at you and you see all that love in his eyes. “Will you always stay with me?” He asks, a blush on his cheeks. “I’ll never leave.” He knows you mean it too.

You’re on a mission with Itachi to the Land of the Snow. You knew it would be cold, so the two of you decided to pack for the worst. You knew it could get stormy out there too sometimes. You didn’t want to be without.

Arriving in the village, you and Itachi are glad for dressing very warmly. You pull your coat around you even tighter, and you’re grateful for changing your footwear to something more weather appropriate.

At the inn, you’re given a room with a private onsen. It has lots of windows so you’re able to look out at the beautiful starry skies as you soak in the tub. Before you can even get a good dip, you and Itachi are getting your mission done first.

As you are both very important members of the ANBU, Itachi and you are there to gather intel. He leads you into one of the buildings, and he notices just how much the cold is affecting you. He holds onto your hand tightly, making sure you aren’t too chilly.

After you gather the intel there, you and Itachi move onto the next place. This goes on for a few hours, and Itachi grows even more concerned for you. You’re shuddering as the chilly wind blows harshly and leaves your cheeks all red and chapped.

Once back at the inn, Itachi orders you both some room service. He figures some warm stew and some sake could help get the chill out of your bones. You sit by the heater, warming yourself up. Itachi sits near you and the two of you eat to your heart's content.

After you’ve had your fill of food and a few cups of sake, Itachi suggests a nice dip in the onsen. He helps you undress and you do the same for him, caressing his beautiful body. You’re excited to be here with the love of your life.

The water is just perfect as you both slip into the bath. Itachi keeps you close to his body, his arms wrapped around you as you lean against his chest. His hands slip into the water as he begins kneading your plush thighs.

“Pretty girl,” he purrs against your neck. He nips at your soft skin and you let out a soft moan when you feel his adept fingers brushing against your clit. Itachi has no problem getting you so riled up like this. He could easily make you cum.

Before you know it, he has you sinking down on his erect cock. The two of you let out sweet moans of pleasure as you settle back down against him. You feel safe in his embrace, and more than aroused as he begins to start up his slow and steady pace that has you dizzy. You know this will be the perfect way to end such a chilly mission.

It’s a late winter night, and Madara can’t sleep. He’s plagued with all sorts of nightmares and traumatic thoughts. He sits by the fire, contemplating his life. He wonders what he could have done to make things different for himself and for others.

As he thinks about this, you wake up in your bed without him. You wonder if he needs some time alone. You aren’t a stranger to the way things are for him. Especially in the dead of the night in the middle of winter. It’s too quiet for him to really get any kind of peace.

You find him by the fire, and you drape a blanket over his shoulders. He hums happily when he feels your warmth. There’s only a few people who can pull him out of this funk, and you’re the one who truly knows how to do it the best. He doesn’t know that he deserves you, but he’s grateful for you.

“Are you alright, love?” you ask in a sweet voice. He leans against your legs for a moment, looking up at you. You’re glad to see his Sharingan isn’t activated, which means he isn’t too caught up in his thoughts. You lean down and press a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m just lost in my thoughts, darling.” he says truthfully. He lets out a breath he was holding, and then you sit behind him. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your face in the wild mass of his hair and inhaling his beautiful scent.

He doesn’t need much more to calm him down. He turns around to face you, pressing soft kisses all over your pretty face. Madara is so enamored by you, he knows that you’re the most precious thing to him in this life. He’d do anything to keep you close and safe.

He lays you down on the blanket you brought to keep him warm. The wind blows loudly outside, making you both shiver. But the warmth of him pressing himself against you quickly warms you up. You kiss him passionately as he settles himself on top of you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you begin making out. His saliva tastes so good to you, it’s making your heart race like nothing else. You’ve always loved the way he kissed you like he was so hungry for you. It makes you feel so special and so desired.

His eyes are dark with lust, but the moment he undresses himself and he’s able to push his hard cock into your slick heat, his Sharingan activates. You’ve always told him not to waste his powers on you, but he’s admitted that it happens involuntarily sometimes whenever you two are intimate.

He rocks his hips as his cock fills you up. Madara feels all of his stress begin to melt away as you wrap your legs around him. Naughty words as well as sweet praises fall from his lips. He’ll be able to sleep after he fills you with his sticky seed a few times tonight.

#bacon.writes #sasuke x reader #sasuke x you #sasuke x y/n #Uchiha sasuke x you #Uchiha sasuke x reader #madara x reader #madara x you #madara x y/n #Uchiha madara x you #Uchiha Madera x reader #itachi x you #itachi x reader #itachi x y/n #Uchiha itachi x reader #Uchiha itachi x you #Uchiha x reader #Naruto x you #Naruto x reader

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lilac-5ky · 6 months

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i wanna tie the knot (Satoru xFem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Forget me not

Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

Plot: Your boyfriend takes you on a romantic getaway that will potentially change the rest of your lives.

Themes: MDNI, Established Relationship, Vacation, Teasing, Bickering, Tooth-rotting Fluff, Comedy, Onsen Smut, Sensory Deprivation (bondage and blindfolds), Breeding Kink, Oral (f. receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Yukatas, Snarky!Fem!Reader who is done with Gojo's Shenanigans but loves him regardless, Soft!Dom Gojo, Unsolicited Digimon References, and Bucketloads of Pet Names (baby, princess, bunny, honeypie, sugarplum, and every other food nickname you can think of)

Word Count: 13.3k (i was inspired, sue me. rest of it will be smaller. i think.)

check a/n at the bottom

“Last one up the hill is a loser!” Those were the parting words you left your boyfriend with before you shot in the direction of the fields, wind in your hair and pollen in the air, Satoru’s voice barely audible over the light chuckle you shed behind.

You sprint across a sea of flowers in every shape, hue, and kind—from exuberant red poppies to bashful pink asters—spanning as far as the eye can see. You want nothing more than to spare a moment and halt; breathe into the combined aroma of the autumn blossoms before winter hushes them for good, but you can’t. The faster you run, the smaller his head becomes, until it’s a mere blotch of white on the faraway horizon.

You rest assured in your victory, a breathless smile forming on your lips as you reach the top. You glance over your shoulder, confident that the man who minutes ago (literally) flew you to Ikoma on another of his spontaneous 2-day trips is still there, lamenting ever giving you a headstart. However, no matter how hard you squint, you cannot seem to find him.

“What are we looking at?” A low-pitched voice scares the wits out of you, hummed near the shell of your ear in a way that’s exclusive to the cheeky tone it carries.

“S-Satoru!” You yelp, almost throwing yourself down the stiff slope.

“Satoru?” The man in question repeats his own name, cocking his head to the side with genuine curiosity. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“What are you—”

“I only know of a winner,” he points at his chest, successfully diverting your attention from the hand that rises to flick your forehead with such force that you stagger backward.

Both your fall and his punchline are postponed, one awaiting the other while you’re left floating mid-air, the infinity between your head and his boot serving as a safety net.

“And a loser.” Satoru concludes, his grin as bright as day, when he retracts his foot and lets you plummet into the fluffy flowerbed.

In the time it takes for you to blow a tuft of hair from your eyes and prop yourself onto your elbows, Satoru’s already taken his phone out and snapped as many pictures as humanely possible. You aren’t fazed. You’re used to his constant leg-pulling, as well as his 8895-picture collection of funny faces you’ve made over the course of your 7-year relationship.

Definitely in the 9000s now.

“Most guys would help their girlfriend up instead of calling her a loser.” You frown.

“Most guys wouldn’t date a slowpoke.” He gleefully chimes, zooming in on your face. “Come on. Smiiile.”

You poke your tongue out, and he snaps what is hopefully the last embarrassing frame of the day. Your frown resumes, downturned mouth and eyes narrowed at the wonderful azure sky.

“Good enough. Here, here.” He offers you his hand. “Don’t go crying on me.”

You accept only to give him a taste of his own medicine as you lock fingers and drag him down. He shouldn’t fall, but he does so anyway, collapsing beside you in a bundle of ridiculously long limbs he either sorts behind his head or splays on the grass surrounding him.

“Can’t believe you actually got me.” Satoru says in a pouty voice that goes against the complacent smile sitting on his lips. Idiot. “Woah, the view is much prettier from down here!” He marvels at the drifting clouds, pointing at one that resembles a duck. “Is this what it feels like to be you?”

You could do without his unnecessary comments spoiling the mood, but you’re willing to overlook them for the sake of your trip. With how hectic these past three weeks were—orchestrated curse attacks ping-ponging both him and his students across Tokyo—you doubted you’d have a moment to yourselves for the remainder of the year.

But keeping him on his toes is too much fun to pass up.

“You’d be more likeable if you weren’t such a showoff, Satoru.” You scoff, no malice whatsoever.

“Oh, really? ‘Cause I thought you liked me sooo much when you were going all oh, Satoru! Love it so much, Satoru! You’re the best, Satoru! Deeper, Satoru! Y-yes, just like that, ‘Toru last night.”

“Shut up!”

You plug his mouth with both hands, though that doesn’t discourage him from blabbing his version of last night’s events, perfectly replicating the breathy tone of your voice and the soft little moans you let out in between his frantic thrusts.

Your palms relocate to cover your ears, the bright color of your cheeks soon becoming a focal point for his mockery. Satoru plucks a crimson cosmos flower and holds it to your face, twirling it around until you rip it from his grasp. Regret washes over you as soon as you unfold your fingers and see the now-crumpled petals, a little piece of the universe laying lifeless in your palm.

“I’m surprised you can still see my face behind that thing.” You point at the dark fabric that conceals his eyes. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You wave your hand in his face, constantly alternating between the number of fingers you flex.

Satoru catches your wrist and decisively intertwines your fingers. “I see enough to know you look the cutest when you’re annoyed.”

“I’m not annoyed.” You declare.

“Are you sure?” His voice is deliberately sultry as he inches closer.

Flakes of color adorn his icy strands like confetti, a stark contrast to the murky blue of his two-piece uniform. You can feel his eyes—those lovely crystal orbs of his—burning holes through the blindfold to meet yours, and in this instant, when his minty breath ghosts over your lips and promises a kiss, you’re absolutely enamored by him.

That is, until he begins poking into your cheeks like a woodpecker, and your desire to strangle the life out of him overtakes the urge to give in.

“Okay! You did it! I’m—”

Before you can finish your sentence, his lips crash into yours, a stolen peck that lasts no longer than the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings, a soft fumble that leaves you craving for more. “Definitely annoyed.” Satoru flashes a boyish smile as he ruffles your hair and pulls you to your feet with him, his hand carrying you through a path of marigolds.

“Can you… just… slow… down?” You pant out, struggling to follow after his long strides.

But he doesn’t falter.

“Better get moving before you evolve into a Slowbro.” He sing-songs.

“Knock it off! I’m at least Jigglypuff tier.”

“Hmm,” he considers out loud. “I wouldn’t go as far as to call you useless, but—”

“Satoru!” You protest. “And I thought you liked Digimon.”

“Doesn’t hurt to know about the cheaper rip-off.”

“Pretty sure that’d be Digimon.”

“And I’m pretty sure even a regular Greymon beats your mascot into a pulp.” He beams.

Sigh.

You roll your eyes, letting him argue with himself about Digimon’s supremacy, until you reach a pool of flowers—myriad befallen fragments of the sky reflecting the vibrant blue of his eyes. You break free from his grasp and kneel among the blossoms, your fingertips skimming across the pointed petals with great care.

“Oh my God, Satoru! You know what this is?”

“Flowers…?” He changes his answer to pretty flowers upon your glaring.

“It’s forget-me-nots!”

The name doesn’t seem to ring a bell. He looks at you with the stupefied expression of a cattle who only knows how to moo and eat grass, invisible question marks spawning around his head.

“Their blooming period ends in May,” you explain. “Can’t believe we’d find some in October, and these—” You chop one of the stems and extend it to him. “These are so beautiful.”

Satoru glances between the flowers and your impressionable eyes, in which tiny stars seem to twinkle, his tone serious as he points out, “You must really love me.”

Your mouth hangs while you mull over your own words. Nope. Nothing you said remotely hints at the conclusion he alone reached.

“About time you showed me some respect.” Satoru huffs. “Don’t know about the royalty part, but—ah, it really can’t be helped. I’ll accept them if you insist.”

“Hold on a second.” His fingers close around a fistful of nothing as you retract your hand. “What respect, what royalty are you talking about?”

“Hm? You really don’t know?” You shake your head, and he brings out his phone, trading it for the flowers. “Says it all riiiight here.” He taps at the wall of text that lights up his screen.

Forget-me-not, also known as Myosotis flower, represents true love and respect and is an indisputable symbol of royalty. To King Henry IV—

“Tsk, these don’t even smell.” Satoru exclaims once he presses them to his nose.

“Not all flowers smell.” You turn off the screen and hand his phone back to him. “Your ability to google stuff and sell it as common trivia never ceases to amaze me.”

He lowers the stem to his lap and looks at you. Or so you think. You really can’t tell when he’s wearing that thing. “And? What do you make of it?”

“You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?” Your hands slide across his shoulders, fingers knitting behind his neck. “I love you, you silly, goofy, pervert specimen of a man.” You smile softly. “And I do respect you—sometimes—but best case scenario, you become prime minister. Better get that royalty idea out of your brain.”

“Not even if a mysterious big-scale accident takes all royalty on this planet out?” Satoru quips.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me already.”

The sharp edges of his grin dissolve as he tilts his head enough for your lips to meet, tentative flicks of his tongue granting him access to your mouth. You feel the hard press of his chest once his arm wraps around your waist, nullifying the barriers that stand between you and the resounding beating of his heart.

There’s no innate technique in the way he touches; no immense amount of cursed energy in the way he kisses. None of the things that make him Gojo Satoru, the sorcerer who is hailed by all—and even himself—as the strongest are there. Only the raw vulnerability of a boy who’s used to carrying the order of the world on his shoulders and on a whim lets it crush him, because when he holds you, none of it seems to matter; because when he’s with you, he’s free to be Gojo Satoru and no more than that.

You watch through heavy eyelashes as he breaks a small stalk and brings it to your hair, securely tucking the flowers behind your ear. Warmth spreads from his slender fingers to your already feverish complexion. His palm cups your cheek, thumb swiping along your jawline with a soft expression perched on his lips, and you find yourself falling in love with him all over again.

“You deserve some love too, my…” Satoru ponders for a second, eventually snapping his fingers, “little MegaDarknessBagramon.”

A chuckle gets caught in your nostrils. “Your what now?”

“MegaDarknessBagramon.” He repeats without stuttering. “Way better than your fairy balloon cat.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why do I get the feeling you made this one up?”

“Did not! MegaDarknessBagramon is—hmph.”

You cut him off with a fond kiss on his agape lips. That’s the only way to truly shut him up. At least in public.

“We should get going. I wanna go sightseeing before nightfall.”

You wander through the city for hours upon hours, losing yourselves among the countless maple-strewn paths and quaint religious sites of the countryside. Ikoma is a quiet place. No matter how many pebbles you lift or castle ruins you peek under, you won’t find a speck of evil lurking beneath. It’s as if the land is at peace with itself, and the people who tend to it do so without any curse tainting their souls. For once, Satoru’s presence feels redundant.

His hand stays on you the entire time you stroll through the temples and marketplaces, be it as fingers that childishly swing your palm up and down—left and right—or as an arm draped over both your shoulders, stirring you in a different direction whenever his phone rings. And it does ring. A lot. So much that you actively consider flinging it at the bottom of the Sunoura River.

The conversations are rather one-sided. Satoru mhms and uh-uhs his way out of everything the voices on the other line suggest, his expression contorting all the while he mocks Nanami’s grave tone, Yaga’s dismay, and Ijichi’s apprehension. He tries his best to keep you involved—putting Megumi on speaker while the boy informs him of how Nobara gave Yuji a concussion when she mistook him for a pickpocket—and presses playful kisses on your cheek when you unwittingly pout at his neglect.

This is the one drawback of dating such a sought-after man. You have to share him with the rest of the world, and even though you know exactly how many livelihoods depend on him, you selfishly want your boyfriend to yourself.

After his sixth answered call, something inside you snaps. You shake his hand off—he barely pays mind—and fish your phone out of your jacket, dialing the first number in your contact list. My Noodle Man. With a heart emoticon, he, himself, input. Still better than the long array of toothachingly sweet nicknames he’s come up with for you over the years.

Drawing the device away from his ear, Satoru glances at the incoming caller ID and shoots you what ought to be a perplexed look.

“Pick it up!” You mouth the words without voicing them.

The world comes to a standstill while you (presumably) stare into each other’s eyes. Star-shaped leaves rain down from the trees, a minor contribution to the red and gold garb that dresses the once pebbled pathway. It’s all too scenic—if one ignores the busy tone from his phone’s speaker, which echoes wide across the hollow forest, gracelessly interrupting Utahime’s incoherent squeaks.

Are you even listening? Gojo?

“Mhm!” He breaks into an awkward chuckle. “Sounds good to me.”

What? What are you on about, you white-haired swine?

“Hey, how ‘bout you hold onto that, and we talk about it when I return?”

You seriously doubt he knows what that and it are.

Satoru doesn’t leave Utahime the chance to reply, rushing through his words at the speed of light. “Okay, great! Gotta go now. Laterrr, bye, ciao, adieu!”

Don’t you dare hang—

“Too late for that.” He comments, an afterthought that doesn’t reach its target audience before fading into his next received call.

“Baby! How are you?” The grin on his lips is so blinding, you swear it accompanies a halo.

You draw a deep breath, fingernails digging sharply at the tender flesh on the inside of your palm. “Satoru.”

“What is it, baby?” He dares ask as if you haven’t been shooting daggers at him the entire time, arms folded over your chest and eyebrow trembling above your narrowed eye.

“Satoru, the fact that I can only speak to you through the phone is insane!” Your voice climbs up a whole octave over the final word, annoyance interlaced within your tone.

“Huh?” He smiles sheepishly, head drooping to his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, I’m standing right in front of you, begging you for an ounce of attention, and you haven’t put the phone down for ten goddamn seconds since we left the shrine, which, by the way, happened two hours ago!”

His smile dwindles, and you worry you might’ve been too harsh. It’s not like he has a choice. Regular people get to dictate their own fate, filling up their plates with however many or few obligations and freedoms they can stomach. Not Satoru. His share of responsibility was assigned to him at birth, and as aloof as he can be, he’s not the type to let all hell break loose just yet.

“Hey, um—look. If you were busy, we could’ve just taken a rain check and stayed in town. You know I wouldn’t mind holing up at my place, ordering some Chinese, and frying our retinas with another movie marathon. No need to string each other along for—what are you doing?”

Without evidence of anyone or anything approaching, Satoru twists his neck in every direction possible, searching far and wide among the tree foliage and the water streaming on the sides of the walkway, going as far as to check the gap between his own legs. Instinctively, you repeat his routine, glancing over your shoulder when you realize he’s got his eyes on you—not on you, but through you.

“Are you sure you are here? Can’t see you.” Satoru brings the phone to his lips, executing an amateur’s set of jumping jacks while waving his hands around and shouting your name at the top of his lungs, doing his absolute best to appear clueless when he passes you by and uses your head like an armrest. “Don’t tell me you got out-heighted by the trees.”

Are you sure you want to permanently delete the contact My Noodle Man <;3?

Cancel

“I’m leaving.”

You manage exactly two steps before you are halted by two arms whose length smothers you—a proper vice that closes around your shoulders and immobilizes you against what feels like a colossal tree trunk but is your (occasionally) loving boyfriend’s chest.

“Let go, Satoru!” You try to shake him off, but your conviction is about as strong as the frail set of bones he aspires to crush.

“C’mon, you just got here!” Satoru begs, his mouth so close to your ear that you feel his voice shooting straight into your heart, goosebumps erupting down your spine. “Don’t leave, mm? Mm? Pleaaase?”

You groan, dragging your feet forward, but it’s impossible to progress when a well-over-six-foot boulder weighs you down. He’s viciously clinging onto you, nuzzling to your cheeks one at a time, and humming at every kiss he prints on your grimace. His frosty spikes tickle, softer than silk and fluffier than the clouds above.

Couldn’t he have been like this five minutes ago?

“Doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.” Bitterness pools in your mouth from where your teeth bite into your gums. Your voice faint. “You’ll be on your stupid phone, anyway.”

“Is that why you’re acting all upset? You want my attention?” The lack of answer prompts him to continue, a low chuckle setting the mood for what comes next.

“If you want my attention, then… all you have to do is ask for it.”

It’s at this point that you realize more than your upper bodies are touching, his knees slightly bent for his hips to press against your ass—and with them, you feel something else pressing too. Something that oughtn’t be there when all you’ve been doing is bickering and fooling around with each other.

You gulp hard, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru. His head rests fully upon the elbow on your shoulder, covered eyes definitely taking in the blush that’s become somewhat of a second nature since you got together. He’s effortlessly seductive, and you’re thankful for both his typically childish demeanor and the blindfold around his forehead, or else you’d be in big trouble denying him.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” Satoru coos in a condescending tone.

You try to look away, but he won’t let you, jaw tilting atop his other arm. There’s no hiding from him, and the stupidly smug smile that begs you to erase it.

“…yes.”

“Yes what? Cheating won’t do. You need to say it.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who won by teleporting to the finish line,” you mumble.

He doesn’t yield, and you know you’re going to be stuck there for a long time unless you stroke his ego. “Fine. Please gimme your undivided attention, oh grand sorcerer, Gojo Satoru.”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He croons contentedly. “Now, how much do you want it?”

“I changed my mind. I want a divorce.”

“We need to first be married in order to divorce.” He points out, rubbing salt in your wound like your next reply won’t be “You’re the one who refuses to settle down,” but it’s not. Just this once, you bite back your tongue.

Your restraints loosen as Satoru shakes his phone into your face, demonstrating how the device turns off with a click of his thumb. An airy laughter rings in your ears, and just like that, he reverts to the kind of man who giggles at knock-knock jokes and thinks it’s peak comedy when he mixes gummy worms in your cereal.

“No more calls!” He declares. “For a limited time only, strongest sorcerer Gojo Satoru is at your service.”

You snort, fighting back a smile that ends up crinkling around your eyes. “You make it sound like you’re a genie.”

“Hmm, you could always try rubbing me and see what happens. Might grant you a wish or two.”

You laugh at his attempt to flirt, trying and mostly failing to distract yourself from what was previously pushing against your body. It should embarrass you that two of your two wishes are sexual in nature, but that’s entirely on him, his innuendos, and the raw lust you’ve missed seeing transform his eyes from the sparkling color of the sea to one found a thousand meters under the surface.

Maybe three.

“Where’s the catch?”

“What catch?” He chirps.

“I know you, ‘Toru. With you, there’s always a catch.”

One moment you feel his breath on your skin, and the other you see him standing before you, his arms flexing behind his torso while he tips forward—a toothy grin stretching on his lips.

“Well, a fee is always due where there are services involved.” He takes a page from Mei’s book.

“The Gojo family vault running out of cash, so you lookin’ to extort your girlfriend?” You quip. “Go on. Name your price.”

“Oh, y’know.” His shoe traces a circle on the ground. “Just you saying what an amazing, handsome, charming, wonderful, funny, kind, and handsome boyfriend you have for the world to hear.”

You browse the acres of trees surrounding you; there is not a soul to be seen or heard within a close radius. What world?

“You said handsome twice.”

“Intentionally.” He deadpans.

You return his playfulness by saying he forgot to add infuriating to the list, even though you’ve already decided to humor him. Cute is more like it.

“My boyfriend is the most—”

“Does your boyfriend have no name? Take it from the top.”

You sigh, “My boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, is the most amazing, handsome, wonderful—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” Satoru intervenes, raising his forefinger in objection. “Forgot charming!”

Your teeth clatter, gritting a growl.

“Only one life left. Better get it right this time or,” he draws an imaginary line across his neck, faking a choking sound as he’s supposedly decapitated.

With both hands around your mouth, you shape a cone and shout so loudly that countless birds betray their hiding spots between the tree branches as they pour out into the sky. “My boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, is the most amazing, handsome, charming, wonderful, funny, kind, and handsome again, boyfriend in existence who totally didn’t put me up to this!” In a quiet voice, “Happy now?”

“Full marks!” He gleefully shoves a thumbs up in your face. “Now I’m all yours and will be for the rest of the night. Feel free to make the best of me while you can.”

“Then, can I get my first wish granted now, Mr. Genie?”

“What is it?”

He stands still as you bring your hands to his face and cup his cheeks, fingers teasing the seams of his blindfold. “Lemme see your eyes.”

“Hmm? You wanna see them? Why—you missed them?”

A nod. “Don’t put me through that same speech again. They are pretty, and yes, I miss them. We haven’t been seeing each other as often, so. C’mon. Lemme see them.”

You try to lower the fabric, but the harder you pull, the more it seems to resist. “Satoru…?”

“Mm?” He licks his lips. “What is it, sugarplum?”

Your eyes roll so far back into your skull that you’re afraid they’ll slip down your esophagus. “I said, I wanna see your eyes. May I?”

He cocks his head in consideration, entertaining an affectionate smile before he denies you with a cheeky little nope!

“Why not?”

This is the first time he denies you.

“For a multitude of reasons.” He states wryly. Uncharacteristically for him.

You wait for an explanation—a slight opening between his lips. His tongue lays flat against his teeth, darting upward as if he’ll finally say something, but he doesn’t. This happens about four times before he sternly announces, “The sun.”

“The sun…?” You glance at the sky, a veil of darkness slowly descending upon the peachy gradients of the melting clouds. “You mean the one that just set?”

“I wasn’t done talking. My other reason is…” He motions for you to get closer. You lean in as instructed, patiently hanging on his lips as if he is about to open the envelope and reveal the name of a talent show winner, yet his answer isn’t any more satisfying than the previous one is. “The people.”

“Satoru, we haven’t seen a live human in over an hour. What are you talking about? And since when were others an issue?”

“You don’t know what it feels like to be me!” Satoru exclaims in an exaggerated tone as he shakes your hands off and turns in the opposite direction. “Having everyone stare at you wherever you go, people asking, Sensei, please! We need to see your wonderful eyes! and getting called Six Eyes like you’re a piece of meat. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be any better than them, Y/N.”

You blink a number of times, “stunned” being too little of a word to describe your surprise at his sudden burst. He always had a knack for the dramatic, but with the way the back of his palm is pressed against his forehead, he’s closer to an Academy Award than ever.

“Satoru.” Your hand moves to his shoulder without ever closing the distance. Damn infinity. “What is up with you today?” You ask half-jokingly, half-concerned. “Acting insecure; you are the one who doesn’t miss the chance to show your eyes off to everyone, and when I ask you to show them, you pull this—why?”

“It’s because I only have eyes for you.” He smirks full of confidence, roughing up your hair and then bringing his thumb below your chin, holding it up for a kiss. You don’t even stop him. Hell, you don’t even close your eyes. You are too baffled to.

You regain agency over your words only after he starts parading away from you, his feet spending more time in the air than they do on land. “Hey, wait! What was that? What does you having eyes only for me have to do with anything?”

His chuckle precedes his answer. “You’ll see when we reach the inn. Last down the foothills is a double loser!”

“Ahhh, that was soooo good! I feel—ugh, reborn!”

Satoru’s joints click as he stretches both arms behind his back and over his head, the striped sleeves of his gray-colored yukata rolling down his elbows. He doesn’t mind that he’s blocking the doorway or that the long face you’ve been sporting since you parted at the lobby threatens to hit the floor at his theatrics.

Your onsen experiences differed by miles. While he was off soaking and splashing by himself at the vacant men’s baths, you were forced to endure 45 excruciating minutes in the company of a group of bachelorettes who wouldn’t shut up about the “dreamy masked man” who booked the single most expensive suite in the compound, rewriting his life story with lewd fantasies that—for as long as you could help it—would remain as such. Unrealized.

“The temperature was just perfect, the right amount of hot without scorching, and the minerals already circulate through my bloodstr—ouch!”

You shove past him and his impromptu review of the hot springs, temporarily giving up on the blockbuster that your mind crafts—Blood Bath: Revenge of the Hot Spring Killer 2—in favor of a spot where you can drop off your toiletries.

The room, or rather, the rooms, are vast in space and rich in furnishing. Opaque sliding doors separate the main area from the wardrobe and the bathroom, drawn to provide a direct view of the ryokan’s rock garden. Tatami mat flooring is indiscriminately strewn, replaced by granite tiles around the indoor hot tub. Raised alcoves host colorful ikebana vases; a couple of ukiyo-e scrolls depicting Mount Yoshino hang from opposing sides on the walls. Lastly, futons are neatly spread in the far back, with a short-legged table spanning at the center of the sitting space.

Bingo.

You settle beside it, laying your belongings on the floor while scrutinizing the couple’s gift box on top, regional specialties packed beside a ceremonial tea set that bears the inn’s logo. You flip the box on its back and attempt to decipher the cursive letters just as Satoru steals it from your hands, wasting no time ripping through the luxurious wrapping paper and tossing a block of brown-colored kuzumochi in his mouth.

“Gotta mmph hring Hahami ‘n’ Meghumi ‘ere.” He refuses to keep his remarks (or food) in his mouth, flour dusting the corners of his lips. “That oughta brighten ‘em up.” He says once he swallows, bringing his cup of welcoming tea to his teeth and cringing away at the sheer bitterness of the matcha. “Bleugh, this tastes like poison!”

You break into a quiet chuckle as you scrub his chin, sleeve curled over your fist, and thumb running stray along his frown. Cute. No, beyond cute. Adorable.

“Don’t blame the tea when your blood type is caster sugar, Satoru.”

“But that’s the secret to my sweetness.” He quips, returning to his previous floured-lip state as he flings a second kuzumochi into his mouth, supposedly to wash the bitterness away. “Think they sell more of these in the gift shop?”

You roll your eyes, humoring him with a teasing sure.

Making it back to your spot, you down your share of matcha in one go, savoring the delightful tartness the beverage leaves on your tongue. “‘Tis not even that bad.” You comment, pouring yourself a refill.

A certain form of silence prevails over the space, during which words aren’t spoken but expressed through various hums of content, with Satoru loudly nibbling on his loot and you quietly sipping on your tea. Moonlight filters the atmosphere through the semi-transparent shoji doors, casting playful shadows that dance along the subtle movements of his fingers.

He’s the puppeteer, and you his devoted audience, easily convinced that there’s genuine mastery in the way he handles his instruments and earnestly keen on trying them out before their numbers are further decimated. A pinch is at the ready, your thumb and forefinger making strategic advances towards the box of delicacies when a counter-offering presents itself to your lips.

“Say ahhhh!” Satoru waves the kuzumochi in your face, your teeth losing to the speed of his fingers as he retracts his hand at the last minute. “C’mon, c’mon!” He giggles, again dangling the bait. “Open wider. Ahhh! Ahhh!”

Your nose scrunches up. You don’t trust his intentions, and you have every right not to, considering he makes you chase after the confectionery with an open mouth, utilizing his infinity to keep you at bay whenever you get remotely close to succeeding.

“Satoru!” You yelp unamused.

“Sorry, sorry!” His apology sounds the opposite of truthful. “Promise, that was the last time. One big ahhh f’me! Ahhh—c’mon, it’s really good! You won’t regret it.”

And it’s no surprise you come to immediately regret it, your tongue hanging loose from your mouth, barely connecting with the dessert before your aghast eyes witness it being devoured by him, so quickly that you lose the opportunity to protest.

There’s no one to blame but yourself, though that doesn’t stop you from pouncing and tackling him to the floor. Two fists grab at the lapels of his yukata, fingers curling around the fabric, while you violently shake him like an unresponsive vending machine, urging him to spit out your eaten cash.

Satoru snorts, and he chuckles, and he laughs, a boisterous symphony of sounds pitted against one another as he, himself, refuses to fight back, merely showcasing the empty contents of his mouth and baring his teeth into a haughty grin that agitates you even more.

“You need to step up your game, munchkin. Or else you’ll never get your prize.”

“And you need to stop tricking me every chance you get!” You hiss, a sigh casting your head backward as you swipe the hair from your forehead. “If you played a fair game, then maybe—just maybe—I would actually win!”

“Aww, baby.” A lofty purr makes you awfully aware of the fact that you’re still straddling him, knees planted on both sides of his hips and thighs squeezing tightly around his crotch. “That’s so cute! Thinking you could ever stand a chance against me.”

“I could!”

“Mm, I don’t think so.” Satoru’s palms glide along your curves, taking full advantage of the position to rub circles that spread over your ass and close around your thighs; slender fingers tantalizing as they ghost over your exposed skin. “I’m quite strong, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He makes you a living example of his words, giddily watching your self-control crumble when he forces you down against his body. A complacent smirk rises on his lips, countering the soft gasp that evades yours.

“See?” He chuckles. “Unmatched.”

“You’re quite annoying too.” You huff, biting your lips into a straight line while you deviate from staring at his face—a grave mistake.

All the wrestling has caused the lapels of his yukata to recede, the fabric so loose it barely counts as hiding a thing. Delicate collarbones pave the path toward his toned chest, rosy claw marks littering his creamy complexion (and it swells you with pride to know you’re the only one to have ever blemished his spotless body) down to the few unruly frosty hairs that span over his sculpted abdomen, and lead lower—much lower than your eyes can currently follow.

Goddamn it, Satoru.

“Is that why you’re grinding against me? Because I’m annoying you?”

His accusation makes your heart sink inside your chest as you are found guilty of a crime you unwittingly committed. Your hips were swaying back and forth against his hardened cock, guided by a firm grasp that failed to emulate the typically lazy manner with which he’d keep you anchored whenever you rode him.

(Aww, bunny. Keep bouncing like that, and you’ll hit your head. Me? Help? Don’t be silly. How you gonna grow stronger if I put in all the work, mm? Better be satisfied with what you have throbbing in ya already. Now, where were we? Right—Ijichi and his…)

Except you were in the middle of a fight, and you’re supposed to be holding a grudge that seems to matter less by the minute.

“Hey, baby?” His thumb harbors softness when he cups your cheek, candied voice flowing from pretty, pink lips that glisten under the pale moonlight. “Think you can be annoyed with your clothes off?”

You almost succumb to his will, the lines between vexation and lust becoming increasingly blurred as you try to get your point across a final time.

“Y’know, I too like sweets!” Your declaration practically melts into his touch. “Just because I let you do the honors doesn’t mean I don’t want to try some. It means I’m a better girlfriend than you.”

“No arguing here.” Satoru beams. “Don’t think I could be a better girlfriend if I tried.”

“Satoru!” You exclaim for the millionth time that day.

“Too early to be screaming my name.”

“I’m serious!”

“And I’m not?” He gasps, hand moving to his chest as if your words actually damaged his impenetrable ego. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. My girlie is such a meanie.”

Your eyes perform a semi-circle, knowing better than to venture beyond his neck. His face is cute, in that boyish way everyone swoons over, but his body is another story. The kind you read with the blinds lowered and the lights dim, colored cheeks, and giddy chuckles muffled by your bedding.

Sigh.

“How can I take you seriously when you say such things?”

“Never said you have to do it seriously. Just takin’ me is good enough.”

“Stop that!”

Swatting his hand from your face, you feel it join its twin behind your ass. You don’t want him to catch on to how affected you are simply by mounting him, but as your hips are forcibly rocked into his crotch, the wet patch your slick paints on his yukata reveals all that your tongue struggled to keep hidden.

“Jerk!”

Satoru grins, holding you tight against his lap as he sits the both of you up. Your noses are suddenly found brushing, and his lips expel a heavy breath your lips eagerly inhale, the proximity dizzying. “Maybe if I gave my girl some sugar, she’d turn sweeter.”

“Ugh, this is exactly what I meant!” You growl in frustration. “Satoru, I swear, if you use one more lame line on me, I’ll—”

Whatever was supposed to come next is drowned out by his tongue as it presses against your mouth, enticing your lips into an all-consuming kiss that threatens to eat you alive. Warm palms hook below your legs, turning scorching as they roll your yukata above your thighs and help secure your knees around his torso, caressing every inch of supple flesh they unveil.

You’re overcome by need in an instant, and judging from how ardently your boyfriend’s cupping your cheeks, as if he’s either trying to breathe life into you or suck it out of your lungs, it’s safe to say it goes both ways.

His cock rubs against your clit through his clothes. He’s so hard, and you are so wet that one thrust would be enough to sheathe him fully into your cunt and meld you into one. But that won’t do. If there’s one thing Satoru doesn’t rush, that’s the way he fucks. He wants to savor everything—every kiss, every touch, every whimper, every moan, every last drop of your essence that dribbles onto his fingers and drenches his tongue like the finest, most delectable nectar meant solely for him—before indulging the twitching sensation in his balls.

There’s no reason for today to be any different.

A string of saliva is cut in the middle as Satoru pulls away, your half drooling down your jaw and his collected by his tongue.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, baby! You were saying?” He coos in an awfully smug tone that barely registers over your incessant panting.

“Hm? Nothing? Thought so.” He deduces after turning his ear to your mouth, and for a second, you’re tempted to bite his earlobe right off.

But somehow you don’t, and in his book, that counts as obedience, which in turn qualifies for a reward.

He plants a kiss on your nose, tender enough to distract you from the no-good smirk plastered on his lips. “How about I do that other thing you asked for?”

Your mind traverses a foggy terrain. You’ve asked him for a lot of things in the recent past. Not overloading Aiko’s bowl with cat food the minute he sees it empty. Not surprise-hugging you when you’re walking alone at night and are unaware of his presence. Not rapping your morning routine to the tune of the hemorrhoid cream commercial. Not calling you munchkin or dwarf when it’s him who’s the long-lost descendant of the legendary tree people.

The list goes on and on with plenty of whimsical examples, and you realize, there are more things you’ve explicitly asked him not to do than do, with your one recurrent request being that he get you a ring made from neither fried dough nor grass blades.

“Close your eyes.” You do as you’re told, thinking you’re oh-so-clever when you try to peer at him through downcast eyelashes, only to be shot down by his technique. “Uh-uh! No peeking!” The last thing your eyes see before they’re covered by his left palm are two fingers that hook under his blindfold and tug it upward.

“Why the secrecy?” You ask impatiently. “Afraid I’ll be blinded by your beauty? Must I remind you I’ve seen you sleeping with your mouth open? The magic is gone.”

“Is it?” His chuckle louder than the elusive sound of his blindfold coming undone. “And here my eyes were thinking you’ve turned even more beautiful than the last time they saw you. How unfortunate.”

There’s a certain humility that comes with someone as ethereal as Gojo Satoru calling you beautiful to your face, but right now, your mind remains fixated on one word and one word only. Eyes. My eyes. His eyes.

“You took it off?” Excitement colors your tone. “Lemme see!”

“Baby, baby, baby.” Satoru playfully chides. “When will you learn to be patient, mm? Don’t you know that good things come to those who wait?”

Seven years is an awful long time to be waiting around.

Eventually, you feel his hand be drawn away, but before light can enter your eyelids, darkness engulfs them again. Cold satin now covers your brow, the kind of silky material you’ve previously only been able to experience via your fingertips as they yanked and hurled it across your bedroom walls.

“Tada!” The unmistakable sound of palms clasping. “You can open them now.”

“Satoru, what—what is this?” You mutter, tight-lipped, as if your ability to speak was also impaired. “I asked to see your eyes, not play suikawari.”

“Aw, shoot. Should I go ask for a watermelon?”

You sigh, fingers withdrawing into fists atop your thighs. You wonder how many years of jail time killing your boyfriend warrants, but then again, you doubt you’d possibly achieve what countless others have failed at.

“You wanted a rematch, didn’t you?” His hands move against your own, soft thumbs rolling reassuring circles around your wrists. He brings them to his lips, printing a kiss on each knuckle set. “Better strike while the iron’s hot. Besides, this game’s so easy, even you got a chance at winning,” he scoffs a laugh at how quick you’re to escape, pulling your hands back as if you were struck by an electric current. “All you hafta do is sit back and answer a few questions. Pretty easy, right?”

His voice rings close to your ear. You realize he’s in fact closer when he takes his affections to your cheeks, shamelessly bribing you with the sweetest kisses he can muster.

It’s working.

“I didn’t agree to this.” You state as his jaw perches on your shoulder, strong biceps caging your body while he reaches around your waist to undo the bow of your yukata.

“Really?” His breath travels south, hot steam depriving you of the opportunity to feel any real cold as you’re slowly stripped of your garments—and yet you still shudder when his lips close below your throat and suck onto your sweet spot. “‘Cause you seemed pretty agreeable when you were all ready to jump my bones a minute ago.”

“Th-that’s because—”

The fabric slides down your shoulders like butter, melting into the soft curves and pebbled peaks of your tits before it pools around your hips. His thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to his swollen cock head while he cradles you, eating you up with the eyes you so fondly reminisce.

“Aw, pumpkin! Won’t you look at that!” Your cheek is captured between his fingers, lightly pinched. “You’re blushing through the blindfold.”

You feel so vulnerable, and you aren’t sure whether that’s because you’re straddling your fully clothed boyfriend while being fully naked yourself or because everything around you is amplified, from the way his finger pads dance around your nipples, to the fruity shampoo remnants lingering in his tousled hair.

“‘Toru, I—”

You cut yourself off. You don’t want to be the kind of woman who has to beg her own boyfriend for dick.

“Will you still be blushing as I fuck your cute face?”

But you’re about to be.

“Hey, I was just joking!” Your hands are seized without accomplishing their goal of removing the blindfold. “Don’t want you losing before the game begins, do we?”

“‘Toru, just—I don’t care about any stupid games, okay?” You whine, voice purposely pathetic in case he feels generous enough to cave in. “I just want you. I need you. Please?”

“And you will have me, baby.” Satoru soothes, shifting both your hands to a single grip while he digs into the pile of clothes at your side. “A promise is a promise. I’ll pamper my precious girl to her heart’s content if that’s what she wants.” A string too thin to be a rope wraps around your wrists, piecing them together. “Love her all night long; teach her all the things she misses when her eyes are wide open. My sweet honeypie, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d also like it if you quit it with all those corny nicknames.” You answer, having absolutely no idea as to how the floor is replaced with the futon when you haven’t budged an inch. At least you think you haven’t.

“You love them.” The grin strong in his voice as he lays you down and climbs on top of you, pinning your bound wrists above your head. “Like you love me, my little sugarboo.”

“I’m rolling my eyes.”

“Wow, this early? Have barely touched you.”

“I’m rolling my eyes again!” You repeat at a higher volume.

“Of course you are. This isn’t too tight, is it?” A finger curls between your binds. You shake your head, and he pecks it, gently caressing your hair while situating his knee between your thighs, bouncing it against your pussy. “You’ll see, you’re gonna love every minute of this,” Satoru continues, his hand playful as his fingers toy with yours.

You have little to no agency over your body when Satoru lifts your leg and folds it onto your stomach, his lips held against yours and his tongue slotted in between. He kisses you slowly, like he has all the time to unravel you, and in a way, he does. He could stretch this moment to infinity, savoring your lips until they’re all swollen and coated with spit, his name replacing every word in your vocabulary while he wanders lower, dragging his warm mouth against your skin and smearing wet kisses down your tits.

“The mochi weren’t half as sweet as you,” he murmurs, soft lips clamping over your nipple, the suspicion of sharp teeth grazing the sensitive bud. “I’ll buy you some in the morning.”

“Y-you don’t need to,” you huff, your chest heaving with one heavy breath after another as he takes hold of your other nipple, alternating between pinching and rolling it around with his thumb, repeating the same ritual of licking and sucking as the nipple in his mouth changes.

“Mm, but I want to.” He insists. “I want to spoil my baby and give her everything she wants. I’d give her the world if I could.”

And yet, you won’t marry her.

His smile ghosts over your flesh, gradually fading as he approaches your navel. “But first, I need to fuck her pretty pussy, mm? That’s what my princess wants, doesn’t she?”

Reluctantly, you nod, a lump forming in your throat when his fingers find purchase beneath your thighs and spread them apart. His biceps curl around your calves as he mounts your knees on his shoulders, peppering your inner thighs with more featherlight kisses that continuously inch closer to your entrance.

He is so attentive when he wants to be, but in his core, Satoru is a selfish lover. He gives, and he gives, and he gives more than you can take, his satisfaction lying in your cute little moans and the tiny arch of your back whenever he pushes you to your limits.

“Thank you for the food!” He croons, and you swear to hate yourself for almost chuckling at his distasteful joke.

He was always like that, to the point where suggesting he bewitched you into falling for him isn’t an exaggeration so much as an undeniable reality. Him, who with his cheeky smiles, exaggerated gestures, and mirthful snickering, conquered your thoughts and claimed the mushy land of your brain as if it were the moon. Him, whose dimples crease around his lips every time you kiss and whose bright blue irises bloom behind your shut eyelids. Him, who’d remain the most extraordinarily beautiful person, even if your eyes never opened again.

Him, whose plump lips round around your clit as he finally takes it in his mouth, suckling on the small bundle of nerves as if he expects it to dissolve into liquid sugar.

“F-fuck!”

Your hips buck into his face, lifting from the covers while your hands maintain their position. If it weren’t for his stupid infinity, you’d be threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him as far into you as humanely possible, but for now, you can only chant his name, feeling his shoulders tense up while his hungry tongue runs laps between your slick folds.

“I’m so lucky you aren’t bound to a region. I’d have to stockpile on you every single day.” Satoru hums against your clit, the vibrations from his mellifluous tone translating into pleasurable tingles up your spine. “My favorite specialty,” he chuckles, sounding so lovable that you can’t hold it against him.

He doesn’t kid about you being like a dessert to him, his tongue greedily soaking up all the juices that gush from your hole right down his chin. He moans in pure delight, perhaps more than you do, the uninterrupted flow of compliments making you feel at least worthy of a Michelin star. So pretty. So sweet. So perfect. The same combination of words he’s been repeating since you first got together, as if his fascination never truly ran out.

The sounds get more salacious while he fucks his tongue into your entrance, and you throw your head back, feeling so unbelievably light that if it weren’t for his hold on your thighs, you would be floating straight to the ceiling. His thumbs stretch out your lips for him to reach deeper, pointy nose rubbing deliciously against your swollen clit while he persistently works your body to its high, making out with your nether lips like he’s kissing your actual mouth.

“Feels s-so good, ‘Toru,” you whimper, struggling to keep your legs from closing around his head.

“Yeah? Like that?” Satoru chuckles, and it would’ve pushed you over the edge if his tempo wasn’t disrupted. “I like it too. Love eating your little pussy. I can tell she loves me too, doesn’t she?”

You can’t believe that the man who’s making all the stars of the night sky appear in the confinement of your tied eyes is the very same man who’s addressing your pussy as a she.

“Hm? You’re hurting my feelings here.” He sounds pouty, though you can picture the sadistic glint in his eyes as his teeth sink into your clit, softly enough to not induce any pain, but hard enough to bring your hips to a stutter.

“Y-yes, she does—fuck, my pussy loves you, S-satoru!” You cry out.

“Hah, that’s more like it.”

Your voice shatters into a million broken sobs which only motivate Satoru to keep going. He nibbles on the sensitive nub, darted tongue inflicting short and rapid flicks that cut right through the coiling tension in your guts with precision that’s exclusive to him and the countless times he’s had you fall apart with his mouth alone.

Your fingers clench while your toes curl, thighs trembling as succulent juices spurt all over him, and, God—how you wish you could see his pretty face ruined like that.

“Mm, baby, you always cum so much for me.”

Without letting a drop go to waste, Satoru licks a luscious stripe between your slit, rolling your essence in his mouth to relish the taste.

“Y’know, I could just make time freeze and eat you out for hours. Days,” he lays a kiss on top of your mound. “Weeks,” one for every thigh. “Months,” his lips on your clit making you wince from pleasure. “Years.” He snickers, marveling at how easily you respond to his touch. “You’d want that, sweets? All that pleasure, just for you. Think you could take it?”

Not knowing better, you nod, and he laughs. You aren’t familiar enough with Jujutsu to be horrified by the prospect of reliving the same moment over and over again, literally getting fucked dumb in a way his technique has never achieved on another.

“Alright, time to turn off the cheats.” He announces after you manage to regain your breath, and it isn’t until his question that you’re reminded of the whole “game” ordeal.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“What?” Your voice scratches its way out of your throat, coarse and laden with desire.

“You asked me the same question earlier, remember?” His fingertips tickle as they drum against your stomach. “At the plateau?”

I’m surprised you can still see my face behind that thing. How many fingers am I holding up?

“The one you didn’t answer?”

“Four, five, two, four, one.” The number of fingers he presses on your skin changes depending on the number he calls. You’d be impressed if you’d actually kept track of the digits you’d shown him, and they weren’t picked at random.

“So, how many?”

You try to pull yourself together, calmly considering your options. He wouldn’t start with five or four. The first three numbers are more likely, and taking a leap of faith—

“One.” You lock in your answer, with an excitable cheer following suit.

“Wow, my girl is so smart!” Satoru praises. “Got it on her first try!”

“Quit treating me like I’m one of your students.”

“Oh, trust me.” He runs his middle finger down your abdomen, emphasizing his point with a tap on your clit. “I’d never treat any of my students the way I treat you. Or anyone else for that matter,” he trails off, gathering some of the slick that’s trickled out of your slit, and brings it into his mouth, finger coated with spit the next time he touches you.

“All of my special treatment is reserved for my special girl.”

His finger prods lazily into your cunt, thick enough for every ridge to be lusciously dragged against your velvety walls, and long enough to delve straight into your pulsing core.

To his disappointment, there isn’t much of a reaction—save for the occasional hitched breath. You can take it. For seven years now, you’ve been trained on his deft fingers and the many tricks they play, but when his thumb begins circling your clit in tandem with his thrusts, your facade cracks.

“Aw, you didn’t think it’d be this easy, did you, bunny?” Satoru coos in fake sympathy, as his thumb zigzags feverishly about your clit, the finger in your cunt curving in a repetitive come-hither motion.

“‘T-toru, please—ngh!” You whine, your lower half squirming on its own accord. “You said you’d let me win!”

“Let you?” A complacent smile takes shape on his face, and although you cannot see it, you can hear it chiming in his tone. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Y-you evil man!”

He giggles at your supposed insult, one moment asking if that’s the best you can do, and the next cheering you on by saying he’s rooting for you.

Asshole.

Heat runs rampant between the lowest pit in your stomach and the apex of your flushed cheeks, the blindfold soaking sweat off your forehead like a headband. You are close; pressure steadily building only to wither away once Satoru retracts his hand.

Asshole!

“Sorry, pretty. Got a little carried away, but no hard feelings, hm?” Your tormentor asks, rubbing your clit at a pace far too slow to be soothing. “Now, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“T-two.” You answer, your sanity chipping the longer your hole remains puckering around nothing.

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner!”

You kiss your teeth as Satoru angles his wrist with your pussy and shoves two of his fingers in, curling them against the spongy spot that swells with each pump, and when that isn’t enough to muffle your cries, you bite down onto your lip, choking on every sob you’ve been withholding. Last thing you want is to give your next-room neighbors another reason to fantasize about your boyfriend.

“It’s fine. You can let it all out.” Satoru reads your mind. “Room’s soundproof, though there isn’t much you can say, right?”

Your walls flutter around his fingers in utter bliss. You hate (love) how his words get to your body before your brain can process them; every remark you’d typically deflect, seeping under your skin and igniting as fire in your loins.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles, maintaining a steady rhythm even with his thumb swiping at your clit. “I’ll be the one doing all the talking from now on.”

“Sh-shut up!” You manage to say before returning to your three-word prayer of little oh-my-god’s and ah-ah-ah’s.

“But you love my mouth.” Satoru argues back. “And now you love my fingers. How long they feel stretching you out, how deep they can go.”

He’s buried to his knuckles, slowing down for the sake of plunging his digits further into your wet cunt, the lewd squelching bouncing across the walls along with the obscene sounds you let out.

“You’re practically fucking yourself on them.”

Your boyfriend’s words cloud your brain, your body acting purely on instinct as you begin to hump his hand. Satoru doesn’t stand in the way; rather, he assists with a sturdy hold that has your hips slamming against his fingers, repeating the motion until your creamy essence comes pouring down warmly over his palm.

You aren’t sure whether the white speckles in your vision stem from the gates of heaven welcoming you to the other side or the light fixtures on the ceiling, becoming certain only after the outline of a halo brushes against your forehead. It’s hard to call the man slumped above you an angel when his one hand is cupping your cunt, the fingers of the other tasked with undoing the knot around your wrists.

You are free to move—or about as free as one can be when every joint in their body begs to drag them down, your limbs strewn over the sheets like those of a tattered rag doll. The blindfold is still on, albeit slightly lowered over your nose. A little more wriggling and you can take it off, yet that too requires effort you lack.

Satoru says something that fails to register in your trance. He’s mocking you. He’s praising you. He’s mocking you while praising you, and praising you while mocking you, because those two go hand in hand in his brain—a proper carrot and stick. You think you should be thanking him or cursing him, but your words turn out a jumbled mess—nothing worth writing home about.

“Ready for the final round?” His voice finally conquers the ambient—heavy, almost as though his own ministrations have worn him out, and distorted by every prolonged inhale and sharp exhale he takes.

“Do I have a choice?” You provoke.

“Sure you do. Just—hah, not when it comes to this.”

A low fuck evades him, and you are oblivious to the way he’s been fisting his cock this entire time, smearing your slick over his length and squeezing the reddened tip in the ring shaped by his thumb and index, biting onto his tongue whenever your name comes remotely close to spilling from his lips. Only he knows the endurance he’s shown keeping himself from busting in his hand at the sight of your fucked-out form, trembling thighs calling to him in a carnal manner your lips could never muster.

You look ravishing, and ravishing you is all he aches to do.

“How many—” Satoru begins, only to be cut off with a croaked three that jumps an octave the moment his fat tip prods into your folds. “Three?” His fingers burrow into the supple flesh of your thighs as he splays your legs over his bare chest. “Could’ve sworn it was at least eight. Guess I need to make it go a bit deeper, huh?”

His lips lay soft against your ankle, trailing honeyed kisses down the expanse of skin that lose finesse once they near the crevice of your knee. An idea blinks in his brain as he grabs your thigh and presses it down against your stomach, repeating the same pattern of tenderness on the other until you are folded in half.

He stares down at you, and for a moment, that’s all he does. His eyes—the prized six eyes that are the very synonym for quintessence—well with adoration over the point where your bodies connect, the tight fit of your cunt prompting him to lose control and fuck an entire generation of sorcerers into you.

All in good time.

A quiet whisper reminds Satoru of his promise, hips drawing back before they snap right into you, the crude sound of his balls slapping against your ass reverberating across the room. You moan in unison, your fists thudding against the floor as his thrusts send you flying past the covers.

It’s too much. It’s too little. You want less. You want more. Your desires bend and twist around one another like indecisive vines, settling on a direction only after he leans forward and fixes the cushions behind your head.

“Congratulations.” The gentle action of his hand combing through your hair contradicts the cock throbbing inside your pussy. “To think my baby would make me eat my own words—well; I can get behind dating a winner. Especially when they’re as beautiful as you.”

“S-satoru!”

You look away—if resting your flushed cheek on the significantly colder pillow and fixing your gaze at whatever lies beyond the blindfold counts as looking—the sincerity in his words moving you more than it should.

“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you are embarrassed.” Satoru chuckles, punctuating his own question with a sensual roll of his hips that drags against your clit, coaxing the tiniest of moans to slip from your pursed lips.

“Hmm, is it because I called you beautiful?” He leans onto his elbow, relying on the weight of his chest to keep you pinned down. “Nah, can’t be it. I call you beautiful on a daily basis, don’t I? Then—hmm—is it ‘cause I’m so nice to you? Because I’m the best boyfriend you could ask for?”

“Q-quit it with all that self affirm—oh my god!”

Tears prickle your eyelash line at the familiar way his cock glides between your walls. He’s in so deep, relaxed thrusts pushing against your abdomen from the inside, with your cervix serving as the last line of defense for your merge, gallantly bearing every kiss his tip prints on your core.

“C’mooon, you gotta help me out. I’m all outta guesses here.” Satoru whines in your ear, his voice a pitch too high. “Is it because you can’t see me? Because this feels so good? Or because,” his hand sneaks between your bodies to work languid circles around your clit, “you just love me that much?”

“Aw, so that’s what it was?” He interprets the clenching of your pussy as he wills. For once he isn’t off the mark. “Okay, look at me.”

Even when you weren’t embarrassed before, you are about to be as heat pools in your stomach anew, threatening to make your score three to zero. You feel yourself turning liquid, dissolving between ripples of pleasure, drowning in you and drowning in him, and he’s both the riptide pulling you in as he’s the lifeline washing you ashore, the salty tang of the sea clinging to the fingers fumbling about your chin.

“I said, look at me.” His tone serious this time.

Every sense of yours is held captive as Satoru’s lips finally smash into yours, the taste of your essence refusing to die out no matter how many times your tongues swirl around each other. Your breathy moans are traded for his needy grunts, compiling into a broken record that plays sinfully in your ears, the whiff of sex lingering potent in the thick air between you.

He doesn’t fuck into you so much as he grinds against you, allowing you to grab at his biceps when your legs start to shake, the white clouds in your peripheral dispersing behind the sky blue of his eyes, placid orbs electrified by lust.

“Hi,” Satoru greets with an amiable smile, the blindfold dangling from around his forefinger.

“H-hi,” you return, your palms creeping up his face as if to appraise it, soft thumbs pushing the dampened strands away from his forehead, a thirst within you at last quenched.

“It’s-a me.” He says stupidly, basking in the affectionate way you cradle him.

“If you crack a Mario joke I’ll kick you in the nuts.” You warn.

“Oh no! How dare you genocide my children?” He gasps, and you can’t help but chuckle, eliciting a moan from him as your walls tighten around his cock. “M-minus one Gojo junior.”

Another laugh. Another moan. Another kiss.

“Would you put a baby into me if I didn’t?” You trace against his lips, uncertain of the answer you want to hear.

There’s no reason to be discussing having kids when you haven’t even tied the knot, let alone when more qualified candidates exist to continue his clan’s lineage. Maybe Shoko—she and Satoru have always been close, and a healing technique sounds like a valuable inheritance. Utahime—you aren’t sure what her abilities are, but they too go back. Even Mei, her family have a sizable fortune, and their genes combined would—

Mischief sparks in his eyes, tugging at the corners of his mouth and spreading to your lips as he kisses you—not his close friend, not his self-declared nemesis, and certainly not his senior. Just plain old you.

“If that’s what the future Mrs. Gojo wants, then—”

“What do you—”

Before your questions can manifest, Satoru picks up a tempo that knocks the air out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your mind. Big palms wrap your knees around his torso, sculpted pecs smothering your plushy tits while he vigorously drills his cock into your sopping cunt, having the nerve to laugh at your whimpers in between strangled noises of his own.

“You feel so good f’me, baby. S-so fucking good, aren’t you? My good—nah, my perfect girl. Our kids will be perfect too. G-gonna have lots of ‘em, mm? Gonna-fuck, gimme a whole class to teach, right?” He blabs deliriously, broad shoulders flexing as your nails rake them.

You want that. Everything he’s willing to offer, a future where his last name precedes your first, and chubby babies that bear his disposition, his ideals, and his smiles follow on your trail like little disoriented ducklings; one where he’s your husband, and you’re his wife, and you’re tied to each other for life.

Satoru’s lips drift toward your neck, biting sloppy marks that have you writhing below him. And when his cock hits that one spot inside of you, the one he’s been abusing all night long like a kid with a brand new toy on Christmas Eve, “Oh my God—G-god, p-please j-just like that, shit shit f-fuck!”

“Why bring religion into this?” He mumbles, voice inadvertently sultry and cumbered with every bit of self-restraint he showed before entering this frenzy where his climax is the only thing that matters. “Just—hah, say my name. Let the heavens know who helped you ascend them.”

The next time your eyes meet, he’s grinning, pink lips bitten cherry red, and he’s pretty; so pretty; too pretty.

“C-can’t say th-things like that!” You struggle to maintain control over your bobbing head.

“Why not? Your little heart can’t handle it?”

“Sh-shut up, dumbass!”

His eyebrows unite amid his forehead, even his frown attractive.

“That’s not my name.”

“S-stupid!” You yelp, mainly addressing the myriad stupid butterflies that chose to swarm your stupid stomach at his stupid commentary.

“Mmm, I think you’re the one getting fucked stupid here, sugarplum.”

Satoru zooms on into your lips, playfully swiping his tongue in between. You can’t cum any more; it’s physically impossible. You think. But “impossible” isn’t a word in his vocabulary; every snap of his hips causes you to ride on a rollercoaster with no end-destination, only a consistent state of newer highs.

“S-satoru.” His name rolling off your tongue works like a charm, the rhythm of his thrusts slowing down as he presses your foreheads together.

“Again?” He pleads. Quietly. A pin capable of overshadowing his tone.

“‘Toru.” Two smiles turn into one. “My ‘Toru.”

“More.”

There’s not a single gap between your bodies; every piece of him fits into every piece of you like a puzzle, but somehow he seems to get closer, squeezing into your hips a little tighter and kissing your lips a little rougher.

His heart beats wildly against his chest, red leaking onto his cheeks and blue spilling from the ocean in his eyes. He looks at you with love—so much love that it’s seared into your very being and becomes your own identity as the only woman Gojo Satoru ever truly, madly, deeply loved.

“I love you, ‘Toru.”

It’s the combination of those four little words that pushes Satoru over the edge, his hips jerking violently while his cock pumps ropes upon ropes of creamy cum inside your spent pussy, filling you up until you can’t be filled any more.

He collapses on top of you, head reduced into a fluffy snowball that takes refuge in the crook of your neck, and that’s your cue to hold him close, pampering him with all the affection you’re otherwise so frugal about. He’s touch-starved to the point of shaking in your embrace, nearly purring as your arms loop behind his back and your lips touch his shoulders, peppering incomplete kisses across his hot skin.

Your hands relocate to his cheeks as he regains enough composure to face you, an idiotically bright smile stretching from one ear to the other. He nuzzles your palms, pressing kisses at the center of each and then rubbing his nose against them like a content kitten who just received the world’s greatest belly rub.

Aiko should learn from him.

“I love you more, hunny bunny.” Satoru beams, soft rays of sunshine pouring from the cracks in his dimples. “Non-negotiable.”

You bask in the afterglow together, locking toes as if you’re trying to hold hands and making out like two teenagers in heat. Correction: two idiots in love.

Your so-called honeymoon period never ended, probably because you never ran out of things to love about each other. Right now, you’re loving how Satoru’s dick remains plugged inside your pussy despite its painful twitching, for the simple reason you asked him to stay like that a little longer.

You love how Satoru tries to keep his eyes open when you kiss just so you can appreciate them a while longer, and you love the light giggle that tickles your lips as you remind him that only sociopaths kiss with their eyes open.

You love the way Satoru buries his head between your tits and squeezes them against his cheeks, apologizing to his “girls” for not giving them the proper attention and promising expensive lingerie and whipped cream treatments when you get back to Tokyo.

You also love how when Satoru pulls out and sees the mess he made out of your hole, his seed rolling between your thighs in an endless stream, his first reaction is to grin, and his second is to teleport across the room, cleaning you up before you can realize he ever left. You love that the answer to the question “how?” is a cocky “because I’m Gojo Satoru,” which seems to be the answer to most things concerning him.

The list of things you love about your boyfriend grows exponentially after Satoru puts the two of you in bed and pulls you into his arms. You love his hugs. How you drown in them, how he engulfs you better than any dress, shirt, or skirt can. You love the comforting scent his pores exude and the temperature of his naked skin on yours.

You love the narrow hugs that date back to lazy mornings in your student one-bedroom apartment, splayed in a bed that could barely fit his enormous legs, and the wide, almost too comfortable ones you share in his king-sized bed. You love the silly, whiny tone that typically begs you to miss work and try to outlast eternity with him, now declaring it’s “sleepy time.”

You love the Satoru that chased after you until you loved him back, and the Satoru who patiently waits until your eyelids close first so you don’t go a minute without him.

“‘Toru?” You mumble into his chest, seconds before the last semblance of conscience fades away. “Did you turn it off? Your technique, I mean.”

“Did I?” Snowy lashes flutter slowly above his tired eyes. “Hmm, guess we’ll have to see in nine months.” Satoru kisses your forehead. “Goodnight, my little cuddle muffin.”

On second thought, there is one thing you hate about him.

“Goodnight, Gojo.”

“G-Gojo?! Hey, what happened to ‘Toru? Baby? I know you’re not sleeping—hey, wake up, I was just joking! Come on!”

43 Missed Calls—Principal Nanimon

You have 9 new voicemails.

Press play.

“Satoru!” The phone rattles in his grasp, nearly falling into the wooden plate splayed on his lap. “I think I told you to keep your phone on at all times! You are a sorcerer; show some responsib—”

“What is he going on about?” Satoru yawns, scratching the back of his head, and then scrolls to the next voicemail in line.

“Satoru! This is your final chance to answer before I—”

“Final my ass, there’s like—what, seven more of ‘ese?” He comments with a mouth full of fruit that the room service so kindly delivered a few minutes ago. Delicious. Another reason for him to drop a five-star review.

It’s no surprise when the third voicemail starts with the exact same enraged pronunciation of his name and continues with empty threats that want him scrubbing the entire school grounds. Yaga seems to have forgotten their teacher-student relationship ended a decade ago.

Neeeeeext.

“Satoru, I saw what Nanimon is, and I am not happy.”

“Oh? So he outgrew Windows XP?” He chuckles inaudibly.

Licking the sticky nectar off his fingers, Satoru pads toward the window, standing guard between the vicious sun rays and your sleeping form. You appear immune to Yaga’s ear-shattering voice, eyelids shut, and sheets kicked off your nude body, with your hair coiled around your head like a hornet’s nest.

Muffling the speaker with one hand, Satoru leans to untangle the hair from your open mouth. He thinks he might be partial to your charms, because even when he’s holding onto your spit-laced locks, he can only smile at how cute you are drooling in your sleep.

“Satoru? Satoru!” A voice far too guttural to be yours calls out to him, until he realizes Yaga’s voice has broken out of the voicemails.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru greets once he puts some distance between himself and the bedding. “Good morn—”

“Satoru! What do you think you are doing not answering my calls?” The man fumes.

“Eating persimmons while watching my adorable girlfriend sleep,” he answers earnestly, switching apps and snapping a quick picture of your face. “She’s so pretty—ahhhh, I feel so lucky! Want me to show you? Do you even remember what a real woman looks like?” He taunts.

“She’s still your girlfriend?”

“Huh?” The phone changes ears. “Man, your memory is really failing you. How about I pay for you and Principal Gakuganji to go on a little vacation? I know this amazing resort for senior citizens; their cognitive enhancement therapy did wonders for my great-great-great uncle. Just say my name; they’ll treat you—”

“Satoru, this is important!” Yaga cuts him off. “You’ve been off the map an entire day,” fourteen hours, he corrects, “and haven’t popped the question? What are you waiting for?”

His gaze rakes over your exposed body, trailing the necklace of mauve lovebites around your neck. Smiling, “We’ve been busy.”

“Tell me you didn’t forget the ring.”

“Nah, it’s right here.”

Satoru reaches inside his yukata’s sleeve and examines the small jewelry box, tempted to ruin the surprise by grabbing the blue diamond ring and placing it around your finger—right here, right now. It will look so much prettier on you than it does gathering dust in its confinement.

“What about you?” He stores it away and resumes his call. “Did you do what I asked you to?”

A sigh. “It’s all ready on our side. Are you sure she’ll say yes? You sound confident, but a woman’s heart isn’t the same as jujutsu, Satoru. When it comes to love, the mouth is the source of disaster, and when it comes to you, it’s better to just give her the damn ring and say nothing.”

“And Sugiyama Kiyotaka says it’s fine as long as we understand each other. I get your point. Don’t need love advice from an old man with a doll fetish. I know what I’m doing. Besides, she’s the only one for me. She will say yes.”

A low roar reverberates from the speaker like a faulty engine that’s about to combust, and when it does combust, the entire room shakes. “Satoru! You’re gonna be a married man soon. Better shape up or—”

“Blah blah blah,” Satoru mocks. “Don’t you have anyone else to nag? I think Ijichi forgot to file that—”

“‘Toru?”

The sweet sound of your voice gives him all the reason he needs to hang up the phone after a hasty, “Don’t call me if you don’t need me, and if you do, then don’t.”

“Babyyyyyyyyyy!” He drags out the syllable as much as possible, an invisible cloud of dust appearing around his body when he falls on the empty space beside you, open arms wrapping your shoulders in an excruciatingly tight embrace. Kisses—lots of kisses slobbered all over your face while you are too drowsy to repel him.

“‘T-Toru! S-stop!” You chuckle hoarsely, reciprocating the sentiment however you can. “Who was that on the phone?”

“No one important,” Satoru grins, balancing his chin against your chest. “Ready for today? I got a very fun day planned ahead of us.”

A/N: If you made it this far, then congratulations! You finished reading my first Gojo fic (that made me fall in love with him jsjsjs)

As I mentioned above, chapter 1 is a flashforward to the main storyline that will start kicking chapter 2 onward. Expect laughable misunderstandings, questionable comedic moments, cat rescuings, college tutorings, and the angst behind Gojo's refusal to get married.

Hope you'll stick with! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments, are always appreciated 💙

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #i wanna tie the knot #satoru <3 #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic

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manias-wordcount · 6 months

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Playing with Fire (Benimaru Shinmon)

Kinktober 2023 Day Twenty-Eight: Bath

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

You love nights like these.

Nights where you can sit back with a sigh and enjoy being silent. Being alone. Nights where you can tilt your head back and look up at the star-filled night sky as you in soak in the warm, warm waters of the outdoor onsen for hours upon hours. Nights where you can clear your mind or think very quietly. Plan out what you want to do before bed. Think about what errands you need to run tomorrow. And just exist.

So of course, when the onsen doors open, you don’t bother checking what woman decided to come in and join you. But you do raise some eyebrows at the rough way the door slides open. And as heavy footsteps start sounding afterward, you figure it wouldn’t hurt chancing a peak at whoever just came wandering it- just a little one at least. Though instead of a grumpy old lady or an overly excited young girl walking towards you- you’re met with a far, far, far different sight.

A perfect view of your husband approaching you as he drops the towel around his waist and exposes his body to the cool, outdoor air.

“Beni!” You’re practically shouting the man’s name as you turn around quickly and fully with a wild splash. One look at his face tells you that he’s not surprised by your reaction. Or that he necessarily cares about it. No, he just continues to step on with confidence. Standing at his full height. Straight-faced. Fully naked. As if he owns the place. As he belongs here. But you know the truth. And you’re almost certain he knows too given the fact that the two of you have been here many times before. And the big sign on the door leading to this particular bath. “Beni, get out! This is the girl’s side, you can’t be in here!”

At your words, he falters. Right now, he’s standing at the edge of the bath. Ready to step in and join you. But for a second, he turns and looks at you. With a tilt of his head, he studies your expression carefully. Eyes dragging along your face and looking a little further downwards. At your neck. At your shoulders. At the instinctive way your arms have come up to cross against your chest and block your boobs from his sight (despite the fact that he’s seen them plenty of times before). At your torso, and the water surrounding it- blocking the rest of your body from being seen. And then he turns his head back up and looks straight back at you. The small hint of a devious smile, playing at his face.

“Who said?”

“The rules, Beni!” You exclaim back in response, but your words come far too late. Because before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already stepping into the water with you and shuddering at the change in temperature before relaxing completely. Your eyes widened as you took in your boyfriend’s complete and sudden disregard for the rules of the onsen. For a second, you glance at the onsen entrance, hoping and praying that no one was thinking about coming in until you managed to get him out of there.

But then there’s the sound of more splashing. Waves rippling and water swishing around the bath. You turn around to look at your husband only to find that he’s closer than before. Much closer than before. In fact, when did he have time to sneak up on you? When did he have time to walk this far into the part of the bath that you’re lounging in?

When did he have time to get so close that you’re just barely a breath away.

You suppose in a way, you should have expected it. In everything he does, Benimaru always marches to the beat of his own drum. It just so happens that this drum was a little quiet today. Maybe that’s why he came into the girl’s side of the bath and marched in like he owned the place without another word. Maybe that’s why he was able to sneak up on you- creeping closer and closer until suddenly he’s all but touching you. Standing face to face. Eye to eye. Breathe to breathe.

Maybe that’s why you’re a little too eager to let his hands reach out and touch you- even though you know in this moment just how much you both shouldn’t. How you just couldn’t. And yet…

You don’t say anything as large hand places itself on your arms, and gently helps you uncross them- giving him a full view of your chest covered in water droplets and being lit by the stars. You don’t say anything as another hand reaches out and grabs onto the curve of your hips. His fingers spread out, almost possessively as they try to get as much of your ass as they can grab at this angle. It allows him to tug you a little closer than ever before. Hold you a little tighter. Have your chest press into his so you can feel the warmth spread from feverish his skin with every rise and fall of each breath.

You hum at his actions, the heat making your mind a little looser. Your judgment a little less clear. Any desire to follow the rules sounds a little like a fever dream now. Because the water you’re standing in? It makes you feel nice. It makes you feel relaxed. But him? He makes you feel so warm. He makes you feel so hot. And that hard thing pressing up against your lower stomach just below the surface of the water?

It makes you feel even hotter.

“What were you saying about rules?” Benimaru asks you, an eyebrow raised as the corner of his lip tilts upwards- almost sharing with you a smile. But you don’t pay his words any mind. Not while you’re busy letting one hand reach up and wrap around his shoulder as your hands reach up to play with his hair. Not while you’re busy leaning into his touch impossibly more- to steal some more of that warmth- some more of that fire- that only your husband can bring to you. And certainly not while your other hand is reaching down, down, down, and wrapping around a very, very dangerous thing. One that will surely result with you bent over the side of the bath and screaming his name if you’re not careful.

But that’s fine with you. When you married Benimaru, you knew you were playing with fire.

And he knew just how much you loved to get burned.

#benimaru #benimaru shinmon #benimaru x reader #benimaru shinmon x reader #fire force #firce force x reader #fire force fanfic #fire force fanfiction #x reader #xreader #fanfic #fanfiction

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blackopals-world · 29 days

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Therapist!Yuu: Take a seat dear.

Onsen!Yuu: I don't understand. Why am I here? Every guy at this school should be here before me.

Therapist!Yuu: I know, I know. They have appointments as well. But right now it's about you.

Onsen!Yuu: But I'm fine.

Therapist!Yuu: Are you sure? Lashing out against the others who have chosen to find love isn't what I'd call fine.

Onsen!Yuu: I'm the eldest amongst almost everyone. I have the right to be cautious and protective.

Therapist!Yuu: Of course, it comes from your upbringing. You were a child of the red lantern district. Born in a brothel right?

Onsen!Yuu:(seething)I. Was. Not. Born. In. A. Brothel. I WAS SOLD.

Therapist!Yuu: And there it is. The problem. You resent love because it was something not given to you. Not by your family, or new owners. You were expected to entertain men but not to be in a relationship with one. But all the same you were supposed to make them happy or be left for dead.

Onsen!Yuu: No true, I was sold again to an onsen. I was happy to help others find peace and relax.

Therapist!Yuu: But those that frequent brothels also went to the onsen. And they didn't change did they, they were still sleazy and touchy as before. It must have been humiliating, especially if they know your secret. It's only natural they made you feel inferior.

Onsen!Yuu: ...

Therapist!Yuu: I know you must have felt even more insecure when you arrived here. At a "boy's" school. Another reminder of what you wanted to hide for fear you would be judged. Your anger isn't aimed at just anyone, it's at men who you felt ruined your life and those who never protected you from them. So naturally you protect others from them and especially from loving a man.

Onsen!Yuu: I don't like you.

Therapist!Yuu: That's okay. I understand how you feel. This is a place of healing. No one is going to hurt you or the others like before. I know you don't believe me kitten but in time you will. A lot of people care about you.

Onsen!Yuu: (grits teeth)

Therapist!Yuu: Don't worry, we'll help you.

(I like to think Onsen!Yuu is aromantic)

#therapist!yuu #twisted wonderland #yuuniverse #onsen!yuu

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helplesslypurple77 · 6 months

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Day 11- Sakaguchi Ango/Reader with kinks Sitting Cowgirl/(Onsen)Bath Sex

Notes:this is almost entirely created out of horny daze from that one clip of dub Ango saying ‘you nasty man’ about Dazai and i just uhhhhh. You know, in the real world Ango would totally be my type. I love skinny nerds with glasses. But my fictional type is 100% more problematic. Also I turned Ango into a simp. Oops.

His assistant loved skirts. She loved wearing little patterned secretary skirts with cute little blouses and her hair piled all across his shoulders and Ango wanted to throw himself out of the second story window his office was located on. He really didn't want to be one of those employers, the gross bosses who intentionally dropped stuff on the ground to stare down their assistants' shirts or had fantasies about them during working hours. But it was really hard. It also didn't help that you were intelligent and pretty and smiled at him kindly and brought him coffee on all nighters and he had the tiniest little crush on you.

It had all started a few months ago, when Ango had finally been convinced to hire an assistant to deal with the workload he was drowning under. And he had hired you because you were intelligent and had an excellent resume, he would confess but also his jaw almost hit the floor the second you strutted into the room in your little red kitten heels, red flowy top and black skirt. You were drop dead gorgeous, and if he was being honest that was probably a huge part of the reason he hired you in the first place. But he was starting to regret it. It's not like you were incompetent, not far from it. You were extremely smart and kind and had been a great help to him over these last few months, it wasn't that. You were too perfect. You were smart and pretty and kind and he was a weak, sleep deprived man starved for affection who hadn't touched a woman in way too long and he maybe had a little crush on you.

And ok, he thought as he caught himself daydreaming about your future wedding for the fifth time today, maybe it was a little more than a crush, maybe he was actually in love with you. Ok not maybe, he totally was. But could you really blame him? You looked lovely in the white(hence the wedding fantasies) blouse and blue skirt you had chosen for today, and it didn't help that it was low cut, showing Ango(and everyone else) the most teasing bit of delicious cleavage. And Ango hated the world because he had a meeting today and he knew all the similarly overworked and horny men would spend the entire time staring at His assistant, and then they would come over here all the time just to look at you and one of them would probably offer you a higher salary and steal you away right from under his nose—

“Mr Sakaguchi? I have the documents you wanted.” You're back from the front office and looking at him quizzically, a manila folder in your outstretched hand. Ango pushes up his glasses and gives you a sharp nod. “Wonderful, thank you.” He needs to get back to work and stop daydreaming or it's another sleepless night for him. “Please start the booking process for the company trip.” With a nod and a smile you turn, the sway of your hips horribly distracting as you make your way to your desk. Your desk is next to his, which is a really good thing because now if he stares at you it will be really obvious and his pride will help him focus on his work.

But his work is boring and you are pretty and even though he has to actively turn his head he still catches himself staring at you. You look so pretty, typing away at your desk, occasionally catching your lip in your teeth distractingly. No, he has to focus on the documents, no matter how boring they are, he really, really doesn't want to stay overnight but maybe if he did you would stay too and then he would get even less work done. Anyway he can see it, he's screwed. He’s down bad and there's nothing he can do about it.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You really didn't even want to think about how you had ended up in this situation. Sharing a private Onsen and a room with your boss who you MAYBE, possibly, had a small miniscule crush on. You glared at the screen of your laptop dubiously, taking your anger and embarrassment out on the well worn keys of your old laptop. It was old, and a portion of the screen was completely black, but you loved the thing. And you didn't want to transfer all the data you had over here to a new laptop, that was more trouble than it was worth.

And anyway, this situation was partly your fault. You had been dead tired when you booked this place. An Onsen was a classic choice for a work trip, and although this one was kind of expensive, only four people from your department could even make it. So low numbers ment less expenses, and also meant you could afford to splurge a little. So you booked two rooms, one for you and Akane, and another for your boss, Ango, and your coworker Jerry.

But anyway, you had thought you were going to share a room with your coworker, Akane, but she had decided to demand she share with her boyfriend, and you had jumped at the chance, thinking you would get a private room. But no, now you were sharing with your handsome boss. You really didn't understand why Akane was dating Jerry anyway. She was drop dead gorgeous, with long straight black hair and big, doll-like eyes. And Jerry was kind of, just average. But he was nice, you supposed, and that was just the way of the world.

A knock sounded on the sliding door panel, and Ango peaked his head in. He sent you an apologetic little smile, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“It's time for dinner. We’re eating in Akane and Jerry’s room.” you closed your computer with a nod, standing up and following him out of the room and into the hall. It was silent, and the air hung with a strange awkward air. You coached, trying to make conversation. “I'm sorry this happened, Mr Sakaguchi.” You can't see his face from where you are, but he clears his throat. “It's alright, really.” You sigh silently to yourself. From his tone it sounds like he really doesn't want to share with you. It hurts, just a little. You ignore the panging in your chest and sigh. “I'm really sorry Sir, I would have liked to share with Akane, but she can be really convincing sometimes.” Ango’s shoulders stiffen, and he nods jerkally, with an awkward chuckle. “Yes, I suppose so.” And the both of you pad down the rest of the hall in awkward silence.

There is a large table set out in Akane and Jerry’s room, laden with delicious dishes. Your mouth waters, and you shove aside your hurt feelings for now and dig into the spread of delicious food before you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You're left alone in the room, for now at least. Ango had informed you that he was heading out to the store to grab a few things, and promptly left you to yourself. The hot spring water is a soft milky white, and the steam rising off the surface scatters as your toe skims the surface. Ripples mar the previously untouched water as you slowly make your way in. The pool is large, about five feet in diameter and rounded, with decorative rocks by the wooden bamboo fence. Little plants run along the fence, ferns and pretty white flowers. The ceiling is painted with a beautiful starry night scene, to give the illusion of outdoors, and fake candles hide in the plants.

The address sitting by, the one that faces the room is more modern, with a thin Rock Ledge and a small basket for your towel. The fluffy white towels were provided with the room, along with some complimentary Yukata and only one futon, because of course. You think all the way into the water letting the soothing warmth sink into your bones. The ledge you are sitting on is beneath the water allowing the milky warm water to almost completely cover your breasts. You sigh, and lean your head back, closing your eyes.

What a long, tiring, day it had been. First the long drive up, and then this dress of your co-workers insisting they share a room, and just because they were dating. And then after all of that along awkward dinner with your boss while the two of you watched your co-workers cuddle and feed each other the entire time. And then they had ditched both of you to definitely fuck. Yeah, so much fun.

You sighed, trying to cheer yourself up. You were being a bit grumpy after Akane had ditched you for her boyfriend. You considered her a good work friend, and even though you knew she was trying to set you up with Ango, you were still a bit salty. But honestly, it wasn't even that bad. The Onsen was lovely, and the food was delicious. The water was warm and delicious and soothed your bones, and you couldn't help the hopeful feeling that rose in your stomach. Maybe, something will finally happen between you and Ango. Even if the relationship was kind of inappropriate and you didn't think he liked you like that. You sighed, breathing deeply.

The sound of the sliding door pulled you out of your musings. “Akane, that you?” You called, she had said she would stop by later. “You better have a good apology ready, girl.”The Intruder coughed, a distinctly masculine sound and your eyes shot open. And of course, because the gods were laughing at you, there stood Ango. He coughs again, cheeks pink and eyes avoiding your own. “Not Akane. Sorry. Um, I'll just go.” he sounds strangely flustered, an emotion you haven't seen him express that often. You can't help it, you give him a potentially flirty smile. “You should come in, sir. The waters really nice.” Ango coughs again, his face turning redder, and you watch as his eyes dart between your collarbones and your face.

And you really shouldn't, you know you shouldn't, but a theory is forming. A dangerous, sexy, hopeful theory. A theory that maybe, your boss has as much of a crush on you as you do on him. But, your theory needs more data, and so you rise slightly from the water, putting on an innocent smile. “You should really come in sir, and anyway, I need to talk to you. Mei was informing me the other day about some potential data leaks.” You turn with a smile, showing just enough cleavage to be a tease, but enough to spare your dignity if he declines.

The man himself is still standing by the doorway, probably weighing the pros and cons behind those glasses of his. He’s still wearing his work suit, although his jacket hangs on a coat rack near the door, and he’s rolled up his sleeves a little, exposing his delicate wrists and hands. His hands are pretty, long pale fingers, ribbed slightly with blue veins, the skin slightly transparent. You want those fingers inside of you. Ango lets out the sigh of a very tired man, and with a push of his glasses, gives you a small nod. “I'll join you then.” He says, disappearing behind the bathroom door with a small smile.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

This is honestly a disaster for his sanity. Ango knows it's a terrible idea, but he took one look at your smile and heard the damning words ‘data leak’ and feared for his future. Both for embarrassing himself and losing more sleep. He can hear faint splashing as he disrobes, folding his clothes and wrapping a towel around his hips to hopefully spare his dignity, at least until he inevitably gets hard and has to drown himself out of mortification.

He peaks around the door, and his eyes catch on your back, the bit he can see above the water anyway. All he can see is the top of your shoulders, and of course your neck, as you’ve drawn your hair up. And somehow, that's actually worse because you're obviously naked but he still doesn't get a proper view. It feels like a tease. He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and walks towards the hot springs. He’s grateful that you keep your view on the fence as he removes the towel and quickly slips into the milky water, sitting as far away from you as he can without being obvious about it, which is about three feet. You open your eyes, shooting him a little smile. “It's nice isn't it?” You say, leaning towards him slightly. Ango watches as more and more of your clear skin is revealed, and yanks his eyes away from the top of your cleavage, meeting your eyes. “The water? Um, yes it's very nice.”

He doesn't have his glasses on, and you make a dangerously sexy picture, what with the slight fuzziness maring the edge of his vision. The world behind you is blurry, and not of any importance. It's almost like a photograph, with you at the center. You seem to have gotten slightly closer, and Ango can pick out a mole on your collarbone. It naturally drags the eye to it, and that is definitely why he has a hard time yanking his eyes away from it. “So.” He says, clearing his throat. “You said something about Data leaks?” Is it his imagination or are you leaning closer. He can smell you now, that damn orange blossom perfume that taunts his dreams.

You're definitely moving closer. “Yes, Mei informed me that some of the files from the classified cases have vanished.” Your smile is too seductive. He must be projecting. You continue. “I think it was files…oh i don't know, ill have to clarify with Mei.”

Ango clears his throat, focusing his eyes somewhere over your left shoulder. “The classified cases? Potentially how bad are we talking.” He says. You clear your throat, drawing his eyes back to you. At least he can focus on your face. It's very pretty, but at least it does not create problems other than speeding up heart rate.

“Um, I believe Mei said it was some files about the Hunting Dogs? Specifically Fukuchi.” You lean back against the side of the Onsen, closing your eyes. “I think it was investigative data pulled out of a port mafia exec? Strange little details and stuff like that.”

The stuff your saying is very concerning, and usually Ango would be having a mini heart attack, but right now your naked and you're less than a foot away from him and all Ango can picture, instead of the sleepless nights he’ll be having soon, is you on top of him, bouncing up and down. You’d sound pretty, he knows it. It's one of his most recurring fantasies, you naked atop him, bouncing up and down and moaning his name. He had it the first time in the middle of a meeting, and he would have been more embarrassed but he knew for a fact that half the men in the room were fantasizing about you. It was still embarrassing though.

You're so pretty, with your hair pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands falling out and brushing your neck, daring Ango to lay pretty kisses to it. You would look so pretty covered in hickeys, or dressed in pure white at the end of a wedding aisle. Because Ango is quite sure you're the one. You're pretty and smart and kind and so, so sexy and Ango wants to have babies with you. And maybe he’s a little far gone and this entire thing is kind of pathetic and sad but right now he can't bring himself to care because you're smiling at him and Ango is just a sad little man with a sad little crush. Or he can't really call it a crush anymore, can he. He’s quite plainly in love with you.

“Ango? Are you listening?” Your saying. He looked up guiltily, because he wasn't listening. And now he just noticed you called his name, not his last name, not sir, and he loves it. Maybe a little too much. You sigh, and Ango watches in slow motion as you move closer still. The water ripples as you move, and Ango sees flashes of nipple below the milky surface. He almost chokes on his own spit.

“Anyay, as I was saying. I think some of it…” You lean closer, and whisper in his ear. “Some of it was from Ace? About Demon Fyodor.” This is important stuff you're talking about, but then again you're also really close to him and you smell like orange blossoms and your boobs brush him under the water and Ango’s hard. He’s definitely hard and he can still feel your nipple brushing against his arm under the water and there's no way you dont feel it because how couldn't you. And now your shooting him fuck me eye’s and Ango knows you’re doing this on purpose. And all at once he feels a sense of relief and embarrassment at the same time and then, he feels your hand grip his wrist, and pull it, ever so slowly, to your chest. Your skin is soft, your nipple hard beneath his palm and as Ango’s hand comes in contact with it, his dick jumps under the water.

“Um, Name? Wh-what are you doing?” He says, trying to get ahold of his voice. He fails. You're smirking at him, because even as he protests, his hand is still on your boob.

“I really like you, Ango.” You say, moving closer until you're pressed as close as you can be, your shoulders touching. “I would like to go out with you, if you feel the same.” Ango cant breath, because he’s a simp and the woman he was just imagining in a wedding gown likes him too, and he needs to respond. “I like you too, I really do.” He says. “I was wondering if maybe you want to get coffee sometime? And maybe kiss me? Please kiss me.”

“I'd love to get coffee. And kiss you too.” You're smiling, less sexily now and more just happily, and Ango’s smiling too, and now you're crawling onto his lap, and pressing your lips to his. And Ango’s dreamed of this, many different times but none of those fantasies can compare to the real thing. It's just a soft press of lips at first, a chaste, deep kiss. A kiss that tells of love and devotion, and less of carnal lust. And it's lovely, so wonderful and Ango’s heart is singing in his chest, and it's just all so wonderful.

It feels heavenly, like kissing heaven, because you are heaven, and your boobs are pressing into his chest and he can feel his dick pressing against your stomach and he wants to just enjoy the kiss but the slight bit of pressure makes his kisses turn desperate, and now he’s gripping your head, trying to inhale ever bit of your being through your mouth. Your so pretty, so sexy, so attractive and smart and he really wants to fuck you, so bad. He presses his tongue against the seam of your mouth, asking, begging really for entrance. You grant it, and your tongues tangle together, a dance of devotion, now turning to carnal lust. A desire to know one another through your bodies, to feel each other's feelings, really, truly and deeply.

You break away, panting against his mouth, and Ango feels you grind down, taking your pleasure against his legs. “God, I want you inside of me.” You pant against his mouth. Ango nods, begging you to have your way, pleading for your salvation. Your hands reach between the two of you, and Ango bites his lip as he feels your hands on his cock positioning it, and then he feels a hot pressure envelop the head.

He bites back another moan, instead opting to watch you as you bite your lip, and slowly sink down the length of his cock, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. It's so hot, everything is hot. From the onsen water surrounding him, to your body pressed against his, to your panted breaths by his ear as you collapse against him grinding your body slowly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It's always the nerdy ones who are huge. You're panting against his neck, slowly grinding in circular motions. His dick scrapes against your walls deliciously, his little bitten back whimpers make your pussy clench around him. It's all so hot, so big, so steamy. You slowly rise, dropping down again, and repeat. He spares you deep, so deep. You whimper in his ear.

“God Ango. god your fucking me so deep.” You moan in his ear, his hair tickling your skin. He lets out a bitten little grunt, hands anchored on your ass, helping your slow thrusts. “I've wanted this for so long.” Ango pants out, his voice all soft and raspy, delicious hands helping another thrust. “Used to stare at your ass in those skirts. Tried not to, I'm sorry.” He sounds so wrecked and pathetic it turns you on. And besides, the tough of straight laced Ango taking peeks at your ass thrilled you.

“Aww, did you like those skirts?” You coo. He moans, his dick twitching inside of you. “I bet you peaked down my shirt too.”

“I did, ‘m sorry. You were so pretty and so sexy and—” you shut him up with a kiss. His kisses are deep, full of devotion and lust, almost as if he’s trying to mold himself into you. His dick is wrecking your insides, each deep thrust giving you a dizzy shot of pleasure. And with each grind, your clit rubs against his pubic bone, driving you absolutely crazy. You can tell he feels the same, each painted grunt and moan in your ear is a dead giveaway. You're not much better though, and you kiss his neck, trying to muffle your moans.

“Let me hear them.” Ango pants against you, hands gripping your ass in handfuls. “Wanna hear your pretty moans.” He sounds wrecked too, and you can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed anymore. You let your moans out, letting them echo around the space. It's all so steamy and intimate.

You feel your orgasm building in your gut, and you pull your face away from his neck, meeting his eyes. You're looking down on him from here, and it's quite the sexy view. He’s pretty toned, especially because he spends all of his time in an office, but the most catching thing is his eyes. They're locked on your own, hazy and half lidded with lust, and swimming with so much love and devotion you almost cum right there.

“Ango, ‘m close.” You catch his attention, whimpering the words, whispering them, inches from his lips. He nods. “Me to my darling.” He says. The pet's name is so sweet, so devoted. It hurts your soul, and at the same time warms you from the inside out. But it's the next thing that gets you. “I love you Name.” He whispers, staring so deep into your eyes you might cry.

You cum with a cry, the pleasure shooting through your body, the pure devotion in his eyes making your heart soar even as your pussy clenches around his dick. “Oh god, I love you too, Ango.” The words are a moan as you grip him close to you, grinding your clit frantically down on his as you clench. You hear him hiss, and then his dick twitches inside you, ropes of hot cum staining your insides. He comes with a tiny little whimper, muffled against your boobs, and the sweetest little whisper of ‘i love you.’ you kiss the words back. You guys sit like that for a long while, pressing little I love you’s into each other's skin, and as his dick comes back to life, making love until the morning.

...

Endnotes: I don't know how Japanese work trips work. I used what I've seen in anime and manga as a basis, and ran with that. I've also never been to an onsen. And it shows.also, have you guys seen that one Ango illustration with the kimono and the book, like i literally cannot do this anymore. I’ll link it for you https://www.pinterest.com/pin/146859637833737986/

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ango sakaguchi #ango x reader

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neutronice · 10 months

Text

Yuuri's free skate music.

Imagine you're Ketty Abelashvili, the composer who put together the music for Yuuri's skating career back in Detroit.

You're in school, trying to tease out of him anything that could help you, but he's so shy and withdrawn and seems to be completely allergic to talking about himself in ways that don't sound lukewarm and hard to parse.

So you do your best. And are not all that surprised when Yuuri apologizes (profusely) that he can't use your composition for his skate. He's gone with something that Celestino gave him.

You're actually sort of relieved.

Then imagine, a year later, getting a message from Phichit Chulanont--you were friends with him in Detroit, because everyone was friends with Phichit--about Yuuri Katsuki. Apparently he wants to give you and your composition another try. He's offering to pay you this time too.

You're out of school now, and you're trying to make it professionally as a musician. It's interesting to hear Yuuri wants to try again, but you're definitely sweating bullets. Then again, you figure you have enough experience now that you can take what he's saying and fill in the blanks with themes and inspiration elsewhere.

So you say yes.

You set up a chat, fully expecting the same downcast eyes and shy expressions of the previous Yuuri, the one you knew from Detroit. And sure, it starts out like that, because you're rehashing Yuuri's skating career. The one you knew about, and the one that is hard to talk about, when he crashed and burned.

Then though, comes the first mention of a name: Victor. You know he's talking about Victor Nikiforov--everyone knows that name, after all.

But what you're not expecting is the change. The way that the slumped shoulders straighten, the way that the quiet mumbles of replies are suddenly dancing from Yuuri's mouth, and he's smiling. No, it's more than that, he's lighting up. It's like he can't contain the joy that is exploding out of him talking about training with Victor, skating with Victor, planning with Victor, showing Victor around. It's so apparent that you almost mention it, but decide instead just to let Yuuri talk.

You can already tell your composition is changing. It's not about Yuuri's skating career anymore, per se, it's about love now. Because Yuuri is exploding with it.

You wonder if he hears himself, smiling and chuckling about "how Victor must not know how intimate putting his arm around a Japanese person is in an Onsen!", as if he truly does not understand that this probably goes both ways. In fact, you're sure of it.

Love that can explode out of someone talking about cleaning up stinky dog poop because a poodle snuck some fish speaks to two sides feeling love.

You thank Yuuri for the chat. You let him know that you will send him your composition in a couple of weeks. You tell him you'll be in touch if you need anything else.

But you don't think you do. Yuuri's love was abundantly clear on his face.

You can't wait to get to work.

#yoi meta #victuuri #viktuuri #it was even obvious to the musician who wrote yuri on ice #that's what i like to believe #its why the music was so gorgeous #inspiration. it hit ketty just like it it yuuri #mel this is your fault

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sanjisblackasswife · 1 year

Text

“𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕐𝕠𝕦 & 𝕀”

𝚂𝚎𝚡 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚓𝚒 𝚡 𝙱𝚕𝚔!𝙵𝚎𝚖 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Based off this drawing

Ct: @/zoro-kun for the MDNI boarder <3

CW: Vaginal sex, Semi(?) Public sex, Shotgunning, Gropping, Needy!Reader, Soft!Dom Sanji, Oral (MtoF), Dirty(?)Talk, Tiddy gropping, Kinda Aftercare, but you’re sleep, Pet Names

Bad Summary: Sanji finally gets his alone time with you after being separated for so long.

“This is beautiful, Ji..”

You were astounded by the scenery, the entire area filled with falling Sakura petals, the steam from the onsen complimenting the blue hue from the water below it. It was all too good to be true.

“I’m glad you like it.” Sanji grins from behind, untying your robe to reveal your VERY small bikini your pervy boyfriend insisted you wore. “I had to do a few favors to make sure it was just us tonight.”

You turn your head to look at him in shock, “Just us? Wait you did wh—“

As much as your curiosity was cute to him he didn’t want you worrying about what he already had handled. So he hushed you with a passionate kiss, “Don’t fret, my love.”

From convincing to crew to stay a far distance as well as paying off the owners to allow you both the night here was all he needed to know.

As for you. He just wanted your presence, and a little more if your permit.

His eyes couldn’t stop falling off to your figure, from your lips to your erect nipples poking out the thin fabric of which Sanji smirked while biting his lip, all the way down to your perfect bottom.

You both sat in the heated water, your eyes exploring the entire quiet area, still so immersed by the overwhelming beauty and simplicity of it all, your love cook lights his cigarette and watches you like a kid in a candy store, eyes so big and round.

You never grew up seeing such luxury and he knew this, which was why he wanted to make sure to give you the world and more bow that he has you, and he wants to start off right with an evening relaxing under the stars.

“You like it?” Sanji pulls your waist to sit down on his lap and he leans on one of the bigs smooth rocks behind him.

“I love it! It’s so pretty!”

“Not as pretty as you.” Sanji blow the smoke out his nose to then cup your cheek so you can turn your face and kiss him.

You moan into his kiss, you held back earlier, in fear you may be heard by a walking civilian, but after being reassured it’s just you both, the sudden need of being loud and unashamed erupted into your body.

You loved kissing Sanji, the way how he starts off so slowly with your supple lips, to then grow hungrier and messier as he slowly moves you to straddle him. His hands not letting up from giving your breast a firm squeeze for one more moan so he can push his tongue against yours, eventually wrapping it around to stuck on.

Feeling you squirm and grind on top of him sanji pulls away to glance down, his eyes were opened to see your naughty little fingers handed right at the center of his crotch.

“In rush, baby?” Sanji chuckles as you notice your hand placement and quickly retracted it feeling completely embarrassed.

“I’m sorry…it probably wasn’t your intent to—“

Taking a hit of his cigarette he holds his smoke in and calmly places his hand around your throat, putting his thumb on your lower lip as a signal to open your mouth, you knew from his low lidded gaze what he wanted to do, you lean in, ready for him to blow the smoke inside your mouth and then back into another heated kiss.

You’ve done it with him quite a few times and it never fails to cause both you and him to start up something less than decent between you both. Maybe it’s the smoke in your mouth, his saliva, or the way he mutters “fuck” everytime you push against him during the kiss but it always riles you up.

“My intent is to make you feel good.” He mumbles on your lips to land another peck, “And if you want that to feel good then that’s what I’ll give you…”

His raspy voice will never not bring a chill up your spine, and Sanji knew that. He moves you both further into the water, you standing tall as he sit in the somewhat shallow water looking down at him, seeing the pretty petals fall on his pretty skin as he looks at you as if he found the All Blue himself.

“I love you, Y/n…”

“I love you more…”

He wraps his arms around your plush tummy kissing it, his lips soft as feathers your legs got shaky, how could a nonsexual act make you feel so weak?

And your boyfriend noticed

which is how you landed here;

“S-sanji!”

Your bikini bottoms now floating away, your leg hiked over his shoulder, Sanji was tongue fucking your needy little hole right in the middle of the Onsen.

“So….fucking good.” He groaned at your taste, you been wet since the first kiss and he could tell, and for making you wait so long for what you needed most.

You rocked your hips as he moved from your slit to your clit, giving it sloppy open mouthed kisses and nibbles as he massaged your ass while keep you steady, it was all so slutty and yet you couldn’t get enough when he got like this.

“Yes! Sanji yes!” Throwing your head back, rubbing and tugging against his scalp you felt yourself get close and the closer to orgasm you got, the louder you became.

Shoving two fingers inside you, he peers up at you, smirking against your lips, proud he can make you feel so so so

“relaxed”.

You almost fell while cumming on his tongue, but alas Sanji caught you, holding your waist to place you on his lap, pulling out his cock to finally be freed and without any thought you took it upon yourself to look down and guide yourself down on it, completely bottoming out causing you both to break out jnto a moan as you laid your back onto his sweaty wet chest.

It almost startled him from how quick you were to have him inside you, usually he was the one to be anticipating but your eagerness,

“B-baby you—-! Fuck I could have done it for y-you!”

“I’m sorry I…I need you…”

He hummed, pushing back your curls he latched onto your neck, allowing you to slowly bounce atop of him ad he also draw small tight circles on your clit. and there it was again—

“I’m…!”

With a swift movement Sanji untied your binkini bra as you were distracted from focusing on your next orgasm and grabbed one breast to then squeeze and tug on your nipples.

You giggle shortly then break into a whimper feeling his cock head graze against your sweet spot. Your eyes completely shut, but yet you are feeling so much of what Sanji was doing to your body only made you cry out more.

And dammit Sanji loved it.

He loved it so much he knew he had to take advantage of the evening with you.

So, that’s what he did-

from bending you over the rocks, to 69 beside the water, to fucking you against a pillar and walls your perverted man did not let up and you couldn’t be more grateful about his impressive stamina.

But like all things it came to a overstimulated end. Your numb body on top of his on the ground after another delicious orgasm from riding him Sanji massages your back.

“Baby…you asleep?”

And you were, soundly sleeping on his chest, he couldn’t understand how only because you usually felt too uncomfortable to cock warm him, but your boyfriend didn’t mind, so after a few kisses and rubs to your bum, he carefully lifts you , hissing at his softened cock pulling out of you and carries you to the room as both your bikini and his shorts float in the water.

Oh well, he’ll get them in the morning.

For now though he just wanted you in his arms, softly snoring under a warm blanket holding you so close as if you’d fly away, he missed you so much he couldn’t stop staring and kissing your pretty resting face, as well as admiring the marks he gave you on your body.

“I love you.”

#sanji #TimikosSanji #sanjionepiece #one piece #black reader #one piece x female reader #female reader #black foot sanji #x female reader #one piece headcanons #one piece smut #sanji imagine #sanji x black reader #sanji x reader #one piece x black!reader #one piece scenario #sanji smut

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yokohamapound · 1 year

Note

Hello there! I absolutely love your content you write the boys so well 😭 if you are taking submissions could you do one convincing the BSD boys to have a massage? These guys are so touch starved istg 💖💖

Ooh, I love this! I know some guys who could really do with letting go of some tension...

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: gn!reader

Dazai Osamu

Dazai doesn't need much prodding to laze around and let someone pamper him, but he will balk at paying for it. The ADA pays okay, but Dazai's a cheapskate at heart. He doesn't see why he should pay for someone to give him a massage when his darling partner could just do it for free.

He pouts when you insist he should get a proper massage. Who knows what kind of muscle tension he's carrying? Dazai doesn't exactly look after himself—he sleeps in strange positions, regularly stuffs himself into bins and barrels, and generally has terrible posture.

The only way to convince him is to buy the massage for him as a gift or something.

"Thank you, bella, but they won't be able to get all the kinks out."

Terrible puns aside, Dazai falls asleep the minute he lays down on the massage bed, only waking up to squeal when the massage therapist digs into a particularly deep knot. You can hear him from the waiting room.

"H-harder!"

The receptionist at the massage place gives the door an alarmed look. You stare at your phone and pretend not to have heard anything.

When he comes out, he's as limp as a wet noodle, practically sparkling with relaxation.

Nakahara Chuuya

The only problem with getting Chuuya to have a massage is him finding the free time. He's also picky about who he lets put their hands on him. Not that he's worried about anyone being able to hurt him, of course.

He chooses an expensive treatment, probably a deep-tissue massage followed by hot stones or something. And it'll be a couple's massage session. If he's doing it, you're doing it too.

Probably at an onsen or some kind of spa place. A Port Mafia executive doesn't go to the dodgy place down the street, after all.

He grunts whenever the massage therapist finds another tense muscle, gripping the edge of the bed so hard the wood creaks. It feels like the therapist is drying to grind his muscles to dust. When he looks across at you, he scowls.

You're lying there in a state of bliss, your massage therapist's oiled hands gliding gently across your back. Why are you getting the light treatment?

Fuck it. He's a man. He can handle this.

Despite the therapist trying to roll him out like bread dough, he is pretty relaxed by the time they've laid hot stones on his back.

"Guy's lucky I didn't deck him," he grumbles sleepily.

"Sure thing, babe."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, so there's no way you're going to convince Aku to let some stranger lay their hands on him. It involves three things he hates:

1. Being vulnerable.

2. Strangers touching him.

3. Being naked.

The only way this is going to work is if you take a massage course, maybe throw in some aromatherapy too, and learn how to give a proper massage yourself. Even then, it's going to take a lot of wheedling and reassurance to convince him.

"No."

"Please? I really need to practice."

"Use someone else."

"Do you want me touching someone else's naked body?"

"..."

And so on and so forth.

When you finally wear him down, his thin, pale back is as rigid as a bowstring, practically vibrating with tension when you put your hands on him. He flinches, then grows even more tense. You warm some scented oil between your hands—mint, because he doesn't like citrus smells—and smooth them gently down his back.

It takes a while of that for him to start to relax. He keeps his head twisted to the side, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Aku doesn't like you seeing him without his clothes. He knows he's scrawny, and doesn't see what the appeal is. He's always waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to mock his appearance. It takes a lot of patience.

By the time you've worked your way up to his neck, gently kneading out the sailor-worthy knots from the amount of tension he carries, he's breathing easier. He might have let his eyes drift shut, although one hand will still be clenched in his coat, just in case.

See, Aku, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Kunikida Doppo

My god, does this man need to find some way to unwind. You may have noticed that he can be highly-strung and neurotic. Honestly, hard to blame him with his coworkers, but he's also very Type-A as a person.

Thankfully, Kunikida's ideals mean he is also very focused on maintaining his health and wellbeing. He won't ignore aches and pains, because they could well develop into more serious issues further down the line and that's not very ideal, is it?

Sadly, he's also wary of taking suggestions because of Dazai's penchant for coming up with bogus health advice. Kunikida is rather gullible, sometimes. Massage does have well-documented health benefits, though, so this shouldn't be a problem to convince him.

Just make sure it's pencilled into his schedule.

The main issue comes when it is actually time to relax. I'm convinced that Kunikida doesn't really know how. He has a couple of relaxing hobbies, like fishing, but even then he keeps a straight back and his mind is usually busy while his hands are idle.

He finds it very difficult to switch off, and the poor massage therapist is trying to massage the equivalent of a plank of wood. And when they look up, Kunikida is still trying to work—he needs to maximise every possible moment, after all!

"Sir? Sir! Are you checking your emails??"

"Yes, I have to keep on top of my inbox."

"Put the phone down, sir."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #Kunikida Doppo #Dazai x Reader #Chuuya x Reader #Akutagawa x Reader #Kunikida x Reader

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xarlenewithanx · 1 month

Note

Heyaaa! I was wondering if you could do headcanons about geto and reader who hates each other but they eventually fall inlove (it's the enemies to lover trope:3)

Thank you, and have a good day! 🫶

tysm anon! Idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but i hope you like it!

Bane of my Existence

Geto Suguru x f!Reader

word count: 1k+

You hate him.

every fibre of his being causes your blood to boil.

Heck, just by being in his direction alone makes you want to vomit.

you almost forget how this even happened, but luckily just one look at him and you remember.

It was a Wednesday afternoon.

you went to your classroom to pass your reports from your missions, but unfortunately, a familiar trio gathers together on the side of the classroom observing you… with a snickering expression on their faces.

Weird…

the air begins to feel cold, and your hairs stand up in anxiety.you open your bag to get your report, but when you open it, you feel nothing inside.

Shit…

you turn to the trio and immediately hear laughter. annoying, loud laughter.

“Guys?”

“Hmm?”

“Where is it?”

“Where's what?”

“My report.”

the three begin to separate to different corners of the room. You look to each of them to guess who has your report, but a hysterical laughter from behind you confirms who has it.

Satoru fucking Gojo.

“Haha,” you laughed sarcastically, “Fun's over, give me my report.”

The ash haired boy only pulled his eye and stuck out his tongue in response, before throwing your report to his friend.

Now, he is not as annoying as the other one, let's get that out of the way, but he's really good at acting the good guy.

He caught the report, he looked at you with a warm expression.

He held the report and handed it to you.

but did he give it to you? no.

Instead, he threw it to the girl with the bob cut.

how disappointing, really.

you were getting fed up with them.

“Satoru!!! Catch!”

he in fact, did not catch it. and now, papers are floating down as if it was confetti.

Great…

you roll your eyes and begin picking up the scattered pages. The two begin to walk out of the classroom.

“Suguru! You coming?” Questioned Gojo.

“Yeah, in a minute.”

the two continued to walk out, and you continued to pick up the pages. when you thought you picked up all of the pages, you too, walked out of the classroom.

As you proceed to walk to Yaga's office, loud and fast footsteps chase you.

“Hey dum-dum! you forgot some of your reports”

It was Geto.

He stopped towards you, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He handed you some papers.

*huff… huff* “You forgot some.” *Huff*

you can't believe it. he,of all people in the school, actually did something nice to you?

“Thanks” you smile.

you put the papers on top of the ones you arranged, but to your disappointment, the papers were scribbled.

Wow, real mature there, don't you think?

Present Day

You and Geto were tasked to take down a curse in a countryside village.

The trip there was quiet.

even the assistant caught on.

“It's gonna be quite far from Tokyo, so we'll be staying in a guesthouse for now, okay?”

You sigh and mind your own business. Suguru tapped on your shoulder.

“Hey… Hey!”

You look at him with an annoyed expression. “What?!”

he points at something from outside the window. You look at where he's pointing but you see nothing that interests you. When you turn back to Suguru, he pulls one of his eyes down and sticks his tongue out.

“Ughhh,” You scoff. “So annoying.”

you were chilling on your own in the onsen of the guesthouse when you heard heavy footsteps towards you.

Geto stood right across where you were in the onsen. with nothing on, except a bath towel tucked on his waist.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I'm doing? I'm trying to get in the onsen.”

“But i'm here too!”

“ So what? you can't be the only one chillin like this princess”

“why don't you go to another onsen?”

“this is the only one the guesthouse offers. either you get out, or we bathe together.”

You have no response. He was right after all.

In your state of defeat you turn to the other side as you hear his bath towel fall on the ground and splashes of water from him entering the bath.

“Okay, you can look now.”

you turn to him, and you catch yourself admiring his physique.

you looked at him from top to bottom, taking a long time looking at the bottom.

“what? you like my dick or something?”

you snap. “W-What?!”

“What? you were looking down for a while so i thought you were looking at it.”

“What the heck Suguru! I didn't know you were a pervert.”

“Me? a pervert? you were the one looking at my-”

you cover your ears with your hands as you make noises to cover his words.

…

After an hour of bathing, you decide you're done. as you try to move out of the onsen, you notice Suguru was looking at you.

“Suguru, i'm trying to go out.”

“and?”

“What do you mean ‘and’? turn around! I'm trying to cover myself!”

“you don't seem to mind when you're IN the water.”

“That's different from getting OUT the water!”

“It's just the two of us,”

you gave him a big splash.

“Turn around!”

he sighs and turns around. You get out of the water and quickly cover yourself up.

“No peeking!”

“I'm not like Satoru. I am a gentleman.”

“Gentleman, my ass.”

The next day

You two made exorcising curses easy. except, if you were careful, you wouldn't let the curse get near you, but you did. and it hit suguru as he protected you, it hit him quite badly.

you were outside Shoko's clinic. Holding a bowl of hot soup as you waited for her to announce her update.

Shoko went outside to see you standing there anxiously.

“he's okay now, but he needs some rest before he joins missions again.”

“can i see him?”

“maybe you should.”

She opens the door wide and you see Suguru on the bed with bandages wrapped around his chest. You feel your heart beat faster as you approach him.

“hey,”

“Hey.”

“I got you some hot soup. Drink it before it gets cold.”

You place the bowl on the bedside table. as you walk out of the room, he begins to speak again.

“Where are you going?”

“i have some things to do.”

“what about the soup?”

“I put it on the bedside table!”

“But i'm injured.”

“So?”

“So you have to feed me.”

You stopped in your tracks. Really? He's gonna act childish now?

“Ughh…” you scoff at his words.

You took the bowl and grabbed the spoon to feed him his soup but hejust turns his head away.

“It's too hot. blow it for me.”

you get annoyed,but you have to do it.

Blowing the soup, you fed it to him again, to which he opened his mouth wide.

“It's good.”

“Thanks.”

you spoon-fed him for a while until the bowl is empty.

“thanks for the soup.”

“No problem.”

“Why did you make an effort to cook me soup? Do you like me or something?”

your face turns red. You gently slammed the bowl on the bedside table.

“Me? Like you? as if that would happen.”

He lets out a chuckle.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“Hmph! you return the bowl when you can walk!”

You stomped your feet as you walked out of the clinic.

Obviously, you don't like him. He's definitely not your type. Him protecting you was a common move, and you only made that soup because you feel bad for him. Yeah, you don't like him. He's the bane of your existence.

Tysm for reading!!! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Please feel free to request some ideas!!!

#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #geto suguru #xarlenie writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk gojo #jjk shoko #shoko ieiri

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sluttywonwoo · 11 months

Text

instead of you [part sixteen] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 3.7k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“Took you long enough,” Felix sneered once you and his brother appeared from the changing room.

You were both dripping wet from rinsing off beforehand. Your hair was tied up to keep it out of the onsen water, but it made you feel even more exposed somehow. You crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously as you stared at Jisung’s brothers. You were painfully aware of how the fabric of your yuami-gi was sticking to the curves of your body.

“We’re doing this for you, asshole,” Jisung muttered quietly.

“Yeah, be nice,” you added.

Felix just rolled his eyes and scooted over to give you both room to sit next to each other.

“Where’s mom and dad?” Jisung asked, scanning the cave for any sign of them.

“They went to check out the indoor cave bath. It’s apparently above this one.”

“Like I said back in Paris, I think they’re just embarrassed of us,” Minho argued. “But don’t want to hurt our feelings. Not that bathing with your parents is particularly desirable anyway.”

“Probably for the best,” you agreed.

Jisung stepped into the bath first, settling next to his brother before offering you his hand to help you in. You accepted it and carefully slid into the water beside him. It was deeper than you expected. You were almost fully submerged in it, with just the tips of your shoulders and neck peeking out above the surface.

You and the Hans were the only guests who weren’t nude, unsurprisingly. You hated sticking out like you were, hated feeling out of place. At least you couldn’t really tell with the water as high as it was.

From across the bath it very well may appear as if you were naked. You found yourself glancing over at Minho who was pointedly looking in another direction, away from you entirely. You hated yourself for the way your heart sank in your chest.

You tried to focus on something else, on the sound of the water gently lapping against the side of the tub, on the way the sun-drenched rocks felt against your back, on Jisung, the one you were supposed to be with.

He had his eyes closed, head tilted back in relaxation. You were envious of his nonchalance, his obliviousness.

Maybe you were the only one feeling the tension between you and Minho. Maybe it was all in your head. Everything had been fine this morning. As fine as it could be, considering. Was it because he was half-naked? That seemed shallow, but you couldn’t deny the possibility.

“My eyes are up here.”

You jerked your head up to meet Minho’s gaze. He was smirking at you from across the pool. You realized that while you had been lost in thought you were unconsciously staring at his chest, more specifically his tits.

At that moment you wanted to sink under the water and never resurface, but it was against the onsen rules to put your head under.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you said, sputtering out an apology. “It was an accident-”

“Wow, y/n, how dare you objectify my brother,” Jisung scoffed, trying to suppress a grin.

“I swear I didn’t mean-”

“And not me.”

You shoved Jisung. “I can’t stand you.”

“Then you can kneel,” he supplied, low enough for only your group to hear. “I don’t have a preference.”

Felix made a gagging sound and made a point to scoot away from his brother. You honestly couldn’t blame him.

“You’re lucky that this is a nice establishment, or I would be drowning you right now.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already,” Minho muttered.

At this point, you were getting dirty looks from the other guests so you ignored the urge to rebut Minho’s comment by saying something in defense of your fake boyfriend. You rolled your eyes at him instead, hoping to send the same message.

You spent the rest of your time in the bath trying to relax, mindlessly trailing your fingers along the water’s surface. You watched the ripples travel further and further until they became small waves, and eventually dissipated into nothing.

Jisung eyed you carefully, his hand finding your free one underwater. The water was warm, but his hand was warmer, and you squeezed it firmly in acknowledgment. You were surprised that he was holding your hand when neither of his brothers could even see it, but you appreciated the gesture anyway.

It reminded you of what things had been like at home- when you could hold hands without any implications.

“Baby.”

It felt like only seconds later when Jisung was gently shaking you awake. You jolted upright, splashing some of the hot water on your face.

“Ow, shit,” you groaned.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, rolling your neck to relieve the stiffness. “I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You weren’t sure how long you had been asleep, but Jisung’s brothers were gone, leaving the two of you alone in the cave. Your lack of sleep from the night before had done a number on you.

Jisung offered you his hand to help you out of the bath and led you back to the showers. Minho and Felix had already rinsed off and were getting changed when you entered the locker room.

“We’re going to walk to dinner from here,” Felix explained.

Jisung nodded. “‘Kay, we’ll meet you outside.”

“Don’t be too long.”

With them gone, you felt comfortable enough to strip off your yuami-gi. There were some other patrons lingering around the area, but they weren’t your best friend’s family members so you didn’t mind. You sat on one of the wooden stools and filled a bucket with water from the faucet. It was room temperature, but in comparison to the hot spring, it felt ice cold. You washed your body as quickly as you could and then dried yourself off with a clean towel.

Jisung had finished first, and he handed you your clothes as soon as you were done showering.

“Thanks.”

“I can be a nice boyfriend sometimes.”

You realized that he used the term boyfriend instead of best friend in case anyone was listening in.

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your t-shirt on. “Key word: sometimes.”

“Is that Minho’s shirt?” he asked suddenly.

Fuck. You’d forgotten that you were still wearing Minho’s shirt.

“Oh yeah, it is. It was really dark this morning when I was getting dressed and I accidentally grabbed it from the laundry pile.”

“Did he notice?”

“Yeah, he didn’t care.”

“Yours now, I guess.”

“I’m not going to keep it,” you hissed. “I was just too lazy to change.”

“I don’t think he’d care if you kept it,” Jisung insisted.

“You shoplifted once and now you’re a klepto.”

“That was over a year ago and it was only because Reagan talked me into it, and you know it,” he argued. “You remember how I showed up at your apartment sobbing afterward, right?”

“How could I forget?”

“I rest my case.”

“All I’m saying is that after dating her you developed some sticky fingers,” you pushed.

He clenched his jaw. “For the last time, I’m not the one who took your TI84!”

“That shit was eighty bucks!”

“I wasn’t even taking math classes that semester! I’m pretty sure you left it in Dr. Clayton’s classroom.”

“One of these days I’ll prove it was you-”

“If you two are finished,” Felix’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Dad’s been complaining about being late for our dinner reservation for like ten minutes.”

“I didn’t even know we had a reservation,” Jisung sighed.

“Neither did I,” his brother muttered. You could tell he was annoyed about it, but was trying to come off as unphased. “But apparently we’re late for it.”

You finished shaking out your wet hair and tossed the towel and yuami-gi into the basket with the rest of the used linens.

Dinner was at a small sushi bar in the heart of Beppu. You felt underdressed for the intimate atmosphere of the restaurant, but all of the other diners were wearing the same things as you so you figured it must be fine. You let Jisung order for you. He knew way more about food than you ever would and had taken a course on sushi a few years ago. If it were up to you, you’d probably end up accidentally ordering something that would send you to the hospital.

Being allergic to seafood made ordering sushi difficult, but not impossible. Whenever you went out for sushi with Jisung he’d usually order for the both of you anyway and then you would share whatever it was that he chose.

“Was the onsen everything you thought it would be, Lix?” Dom asked after the server had disappeared into the kitchen with your orders.

“It was really nice,” he replied. “Pretty relaxing. I wanted to take pictures, but I didn’t want to be creepy and take pictures of a bunch of naked people, you know?”

“I think that’s for the best,” his mother agreed.

“What did you lot think?” Dom continued, turning to you, Minho, and Jisung.

“I’d go back,” Minho said thoughtfully. “I bet it’d be killer after a workout or something.”

“Maybe you can go for a run tomorrow and then go back and test it out.”

“A run? Absolutely not. I’m on vacation.”

“Training is going to be a bitch when you get back,” Dominic warned.

“Training for what?” you asked curiously, actually contributing to the conversation during family dinner for once.

“Oh, it’s kind of a secret,” Minho mumbled, suddenly very interested in his miso soup.

“Well, she’s dating Jisung,” Nikki reasoned, “I think we can trust her.”

“But I don’t know her,” he said lowly. “It’s nothing personal, I just can’t be too careful.”

Your cheeks and throat burned with embarrassment and you averted your eyes when Minho looked over to you. You could feel his gaze on you, you could picture his stupidly apologetic expression. You knew you’d fall for it if you looked back up. You stared into your bowl of soup, swallowing your pride and wishing you’d never said anything at all.

“It sounded personal to me,” Jisung growled.

“Ji,” you whispered as you pulled on his sleeve. You were already humiliated enough. You didn’t need him to escalate it. “Don’t. It’s fine.”

“It’s really not,” Minho insisted. “It’s just business.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of mine,” you agreed, still avoiding eye contact.

“Y/n’s family,” Jisung argued, “how’s it any different from-”

“Jisung,” you tried again, “I’m serious. It’s not a big deal.”

Your best friend sighed, but relented, sipping from his glass of water instead. He was still glaring at his older brother from across the table and you wished everyone would just forget you’d mentioned it.

The server reapproached your table with a tray of what looked like a pitcher of water and six small glasses. You were confused because you had already been served water as soon as you sat down, but then the server explained that it was actually sake in the pitcher and it suddenly clicked. He left the tray at the end of the table and then disappeared again.

Jisung’s dad began passing out the glasses and offered one to you by means of holding out a cup and raising his eyebrows at you.

You thought about it for a moment, and then politely declined, bits and pieces from the night you drank last flashing before your eyes. Jisung still didn’t know Minho had kissed you, or that you had reciprocated. You didn’t know if you wanted to risk making the same mistakes you had back in Italy.

Jisung gave you a shocked look.

“What?”

“I’ve never known you to turn down a drink, is all,” he explained. “Especially a free one, at that.”

“You make me sound like an alcoholic,” you hissed in embarrassment.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

You pursed your lips together lightly and then accepted the cup from Dom, letting him pour the sake into it.

“You don’t have to drink it,” he assured you lightheartedly. “Don’t let my son peer pressure you into anything.”

“I’ll just have one glass. I’ve never tried sake before.”

“I think you’d like it,” Minho added thoughtfully.

For someone who had claimed not to know anything about you mere minutes ago, he sure was acting like he did now.

“It’s sweet.”

You ignored him and brought the cup up to your nose, sniffing the contents. The scent was floral, hints of citrus mixed among the unmistakable aroma of alcohol.

“What is it?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound like an idiot for not knowing.

“It’s like wine,” Felix supplied. “Sake is technically a type of rice wine.”

“Oh, ok.”

You felt like the entire Han family was watching you as you took your first sip.

Minho was right. It was sweet, and it went down surprisingly smoothly. The aftertaste still burned in your throat, but nowhere near as harshly as hard liquor did.

As an experienced college student, you were pretty well-versed in your tolerance of different types of alcohol. And while you were a bit of a lightweight, you could handle wine pretty well. You figured you could have another glass or two with dinner and be fine.

You weren’t sure what the etiquette for drinking sake was, but you downed the rest of your glass on your second sip, wincing as you swallowed.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Jisung pressed eagerly.

“It’s good!” you answered genuinely. “A lot better than the shitty stuff we used to drink back at home.”

He nodded in agreement. “Americans have the worst-tasting alcohol.”

“But it’s cheap.”

“It is cheap, I can’t argue with that. We used to get fifty-cent tequila shots on Wednesdays at this sports bar down the street from her apartment. I didn’t even recognize the brand name, but no one really cared about the quality as long as it was practically free.”

That same bar would also give girls free shots of top-shelf vodka on any weeknight if they flashed the bartenders their tits, something you’d admittedly done more than once, but you didn’t think it was appropriate to bring up in a conversation with your boyfriend’s parents.

“They had to stop doing that though,” Jisung continued with a sigh, “too many kids ended up in the E.R..”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you said, patting Jisung on the back.

Dom leaned back in his chair and grinned. “All good things must come to an end, no?”

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good thing,” Felix pointed out.

“Yeah, that sounds like a bad thing, actually,” Minho mumbled. “Alcohol poisoning waiting to happen.”

Before either of you could respond, your meals arrived and cut the conversation short. Jisung had ordered a veggie roll and plate of steak nigiri for you to share while everyone else at the table had an assortment of fish and shellfish in front of them. Guilt twisted in your chest even though you knew you couldn’t help having a goddamn food allergy.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“For what?”

“Everyone else has real sushi.”

Jisung quirked an eyebrow. “This is real sushi.”

“No, but like, you know…” you trailed off and Jisung followed your gaze over to his brother’s plate. “It’s just, we’re in Japan and you’re a culinary major-”

“I’ll just steal some sashimi from my mom or my brothers, babe. I’m not missing out on anything, I promise. We’re in Japan for a few more days too. If I want to try another kind of sushi we have plenty of time for that.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Of course it does, because I’m a genius.”

“And so humble too.”

“I know, right?”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the bottle of soy sauce from the middle of the table, pouring it into the tiny porcelain dishes in front of you and Jisung. You resisted the urge to mix wasabi in with the soy sauce because you knew Jisung would scold you for it, not to mention the entirely likely possibility of the entire restaurant judging you for the same reason.

Instead, you used your chopsticks to pick up a piece of sushi and dipped it into the wasabi and then the soy sauce separately.

“Do you want some more sake, baby?” Jisung asked, noticing your empty glass.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you accused quietly instead of giving a real answer.

“If I was, I’d know it’d take you a lot more than two drinks to get you there,” he shot back. “Especially on a full stomach.”

You shoved him. “Fuck you.”

“What? It’s the truth! Do you want more or not?”

“Sure, hit me.”

After dinner, Dom paid the bill and then he and Nikki bid the four of you goodnight before parting ways for the evening like they usually did. They were going to walk back to the hotel while Felix dragged the rest of you out to a club on the other side of the city.

Minho hailed a cab and gave the driver the address. He gave Minho a strange look when he realized where you were going, but didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if it was because he could tell you didn’t speak Japanese, or just didn’t think it was his place, or maybe a little bit of both. Regardless, he simply turned on the radio and started driving.

You were squished in the middle seat in between Jisung and Felix because they were both taller than you and needed the legroom, but it was still uncomfortable for you nonetheless and you hoped the ride wouldn’t be too long.

Oita was a much quieter prefecture than Tokyo. There weren’t many cars on the street despite it being just after eight, and pedestrians were few and far between. You wondered if the place Felix wanted to go to was even open, considering the fact that most of the businesses you were passing were already dark for the night.

But soon enough you got your answer when the taxi dropped you off in front of the building. It was the only illuminated establishment on the whole block. Bright neon signs of various colors flashed above the entrance, advertising the club to whoever might be in the area. There was a queue of patrons lined up outside with a bouncer at the front admitting them in one at a time.

Minho paid the driver and thanked him before following Felix to the back of the line with you and Jisung in tow.

“What kind of club did you say this was?” Jisung asked, slipping one hand into the pocket of his jeans and wrapping his other arm around your shoulders.

The line was moving fast, which was a relief because you were starting to get cold. It was summer, and the temperature hadn’t dropped much since the sun went down, but the breeze from the bay was enough to get you to shiver.

“I didn’t,” Felix replied. “But it’s just a regular club with music and dancing I think.”

Your group was next in line and the bouncer asked for your IDs immediately in English, having no faith in your Japanese proficiency- which he was fully in the right to do. The four of you presented your licenses and waited patiently as he inspected them under the blacklight.

This part of going out always made you anxious. You were of age and your ID was real, but you still always got nervous that security wouldn’t buy it and confiscate it or call the cops on you. And every time you were successfully admitted into a bar you felt like you had gotten away with a crime, even though what you were doing was perfectly legal.

The bouncer paused on Minho’s ID and you wondered if he recognized him. Minho seemed to wonder the same thing because he shifted on his heels nervously and cleared his throat inconspicuously, distracting the man.

“Cover’s two thousand yen each,” he said, handing the stack of cards back.

Minho put his license back in his wallet and then immediately handed over a wad of cash to pay for all four of you before you could protest.

You each got a paper wristband and were then shown inside. You trailed behind Jisung down a dark hallway to where a woman at a check-in desk informed you that you could seat yourselves wherever you’d like and that happy hour was about the end if you wanted to visit the bar first.

You thanked her and made your way past the desk to where the hallway opened up into the heart of the club. The entire room was doused in purple light and it was packed with people who all had their attention focused on a stage at the front of the room. The four of you stopped in your tracks when you saw the stage. And the poles. It was immediately evident that this was not just a “regular club”.

Dancers made their way through the crowd, collecting tips from the guests. Most of them were topless, but a few wore pasties or lingerie one-pieces that left little to the imagination anyway. You watched in awe as they finished circling the room and returned to the stage, blowing kisses to the audience while they prepared for their next number.

Next to you, Jisung and Minho were glaring at their brother.

“What?” He held his hands up defensively, having to yell over the music to be heard. “I didn’t know!”

“Sure you didn’t,” Minho scoffed.

“I didn’t! You think I would’ve brought you guys here on purpose?”

“How would you not know that the club you’re going to is a strip club?” Jisung demanded.

“I’m just as confused as you are, I swear,” Felix insisted. “I read reviews online and everything! No one said anything about strippers!”

“I think they prefer to be called exotic dancers,” you corrected, still watching the performance.

“Babe, I love you, but you’re not helping right now,” Jisung said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What should we do then?” Minho asked.

“We can go to a different club,” Felix suggested. “Or a bar. There’s a bunch in this area.”

“No, I want to stay,” you assured them, perhaps a little too quickly, not even bothering to turn away from the stage.

Jisung crossed his arms over his chest, giving you a knowing smirk. “Well, looks like the two of us are gonna stay. You guys can do whatever.”

Minho and Felix traded looks with each other. Minho shrugged.

“I mean, we’re already here, aren’t we?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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