When Nobody Wakes You Up In The Morning, When Nobody Waits For You At Night, And When You Can Do Whatever

Pupkashi! Congratulations on 1k!! You deserved it!!🎉💙 may I please request a drabble with the prompt  “aw, sweetheart you know you don’t have to ask...come here.” From the Water category with  “you’re my everything.” From the Cocktails category with our favorite white haired man, Gojo Satoru!💙

thank you friend !! i hope you enjoy this little piece :3 let me know what you think <3 !

warnings: mentions of feeling insecure / not good enough

3:27 am

your eyes were burning, but the second you laid down the tears you were holding back threatened to flow, and the sobs you were keeping at bay would slip past your lips.

it wasn’t something satoru did or said to make you feel insecure, he was always so perfect to you. in fact, it’s because he was so perfect that you felt like you’d never be enough for him.

why you? from everyone he could choose from, why would he choose you?

‘he chose me.’

‘he chose me,’ you’re trying to remind yourself, hot tears flowing down your face. your fingers ghosted over the keyboard, debating wether or not you should message him. you put your phone down, you shouldn’t bother him.

it’s like he had a sixth sense when it came to you. your phone lighting up only seconds later with a text from him.

hi baby <333

through teary eyes and shaky hands you typed out your message quickly, biting your bottom lip as you sent the text.

can you come home?

he replies in seconds, attentive as always.

are you okay? I’m omw

you hear his footsteps before you see him, the door to your shared bedroom opening quietly, satoru quickly taking in your state and rushing to your side.

“oh sweetheart” he mumbles, not bothering to slip out of his uniform as his arms wrap around you, bringing you close to him, one hand rubbing your back and the other smoothing your hair. “I’m right here baby,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

when you finally calm down, he’s slipping out of his uniform, sliding under the covers with you. “you wanna talk about it?” his voice is gentle, thumb wiping away a stray tear from your face.

you nod your head, clearing your throat a bit, sitting a bit straighter and fiddling with the edge of the blanket, was that string always there?

“i just” you let out a shaky breath, satoru doesn’t rush you, only staring at you with soft eyes, “am i enough for you? don’t you deserve better?” you don’t look up as the words leave your mouth.

satoru can feel his heart break in his chest, he can feel the shards of his heart lodging into his sides as he stares at you.

“you’re my everything” it feels second nature to tell you that, to tell you how much he loves you and how much you mean to him, “you’re more than enough for me sweets” he’s leaning closer to you, one of his hands slipping under you chin, gently making you face him.

“you’re all i ever need” telling you that was easy to him. it’s easy to love someone as perfect for him as you were.

“who else is gonna tell me off? who’s gonna laugh at my terrible jokes? who am i gonna watch bad romcoms with?” his eyes look like they’re shimmering with love as he stares at you, like you created the universe.

you laugh a bit, sniffling as you tear your eyes away from his, wiping away the couple of tears that ran down your face.

“i love you, pretty” his words are dripping with sincerity, and the feeling of his hand intwining with your serves as a reminder of his words. the warmth of his hands mending your heart, because it’s only you in the entire world who feels the warmth of his palms.

it’s only you that know how warm he runs, how cuddly he gets at night. it’s only you who he never has his infinity on with. it’s only you he drops everything for at a moments notice.

the two of you only sit there in silence for a second, letting you compose yourself before you’re excusing yourself to wash your face, coming back and finding satoru standing at the foot of the bed.

“are you leaving?” you ask, satoru smiles at you.

“you think I’m gonna leave you at a time like this?” he’s throwing his uniform in the hamper and taking large strides to you, kissing your nose before sweeping you off your feet and throwing you onto the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere sweetheart” he mumbles, “just picking up after myself” smiling as he peppers kisses on your face. he only stops when your lips capture his, smiling into the kiss.

the two of you slip under the covers quickly, battling for the blanket for a second before you both finally settle in.

“can i be the little spoon?” you whisper.

“aw sweetheart you know you don’t have to ask” he mumbles, extending his arms and scooting a bit closer to you, “cmere.”

he’s kissing the top of your head, arms gripping you tightly and sighing happily. you felt the warmth of his body on yours, his lips just barely ghosting over your shoulder before he presses a kiss there.

“gnight sweets” he whispers, “i love you so much” he presses another kiss to your shoulder.

“i love you more, my angel boy” you mumble, eyes heavier by the second, the comfort of his body against yours paired with his cologne making it harder to stay awake, “sweet dreams.”

you’re asleep by the time satoru replies, “any dream with you is sweet” giggling to himself before closing his eyes, squeezing you a bit closer to him.

“猫が木に” (ミライノシテン-デザイン・アート(@mirainoshiten_6)さん | Twitterから)

HEH.

antigone was right

I like when Nicholas Hoult is a sad wet man tormented by vampires

livres d'arcadie à new orleans

nsfw - mdni. f!reader, piv sex, possessive gojo.

“Let me see you,” Satoru begs as you fight the urge to turn your face from his discerning stare, instead letting your head loll against his wrist while your eyes flick up to meet his. You’ve never felt more seen than when his eyes are on you just like this, drinking in every soft inch of you as if it could be the last time.

It isn’t lost on you that it could very well be one of these days, the dangerous work the pair of you do is heavy enough to carry that at times you feel like your life is already set for a predetermined amount of days.

Could this be the final time you sigh dreamily into his mouth? You whisper a vow to love him forever, barely loud enough for him to hear over your staccato whimpers and babbles. He knows it, though, the feel of each syllable pressed against the smooth expanse of his chest or the skin of his wrist.

You say it every single time without fail, not that he’s kept a running tally over the years. There’s no way Gojo Satoru has let you imprint on his heart so deeply that he knows every single muttered declaration of love like he knows his own mind and the way the sun rises and sets. Yet here he is, adding another tally to the running total.

“I love you,” with your back arched and his hands grasping at your ass for leverage while he buries himself so deep inside of you he’s determined to shape your insides in his likeness. You’d like that too - a home inside of you made just for him.

You could offer him your heart but your cunt seems the more fitting tribute with the way it always promises warmth and want to him. It’s less bruised, at least for now if his pace continues to speed up.

“Fuck Satoru,” your words change in pitch as you spit them out and his thumb brushes across your swollen clit. His tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth and you’re lost the moment you look at him, sweat dampened hair resting against his forehead and brushing the tips of his “those can’t be real they’re so long” eyelashes.

You know they’re real and it drives you crazy much like everything else about him. He’s too perfect and it makes you feel small in comparison but you know above all that he wants you - flaws included. You whisper another lovesick chant against his skin and it fuels him further, thrusts increasing so sharply you can hear every tap of his balls against the bottom of your ass.

One pulsating spasm and he knows, you’ve unraveled between his fingers like twine. He’ll spool you back up later, after you’ve cried or laughed or enjoyed the silent comfort of your head pressed against his chest, but for now he’s content knowing he’s the one responsible for your carefully crafted facade falling in the form of tears leaving shimmering tracks down your face.

You’ll blame it on overstimulation if he feels bold enough to ask but he knows the truth. You’re giving him something it feels too intimate to share in the daylight - you at your most bare and not merely in the way that shows him each delectable bounce of your tits in time with every time his cock fills you.

You’re vulnerable and you want to be. This is when you’re most undeniably his.

“That good, beautiful?” He coos down at you as he shifts from holding himself up with one of his hands to placing his elbows on the bed so your chests are pressed against each other and his fists are balled into the sheets above your head.

You nod with furrowed brows in your bliss and his gentle lips wipe away the trail of tears on your cheeks with kisses - there’s no need to let them linger as long as he’s here to clean you up and make you better.

His pace continues and you know he’s nearly finished himself, the darkness of your bedroom doing nothing to hide the tension in his face that always indicates he’s almost done.

“My pussy feels so good,” he taunts and usually you’d bristle at the peacocking ownership but you let him have it this once despite knowing he can feel the way you twitch around him with the assertion. His pussy. You know it to be true as sure as your heart is his. “Gonna make me cum, is that what you want?”

Nodding again, you whine and he dips to press your foreheads together. He wants to make sure you see him as clearly as he sees you when he cums, painting your insides with him. You offer shallow thrusts of your hips to meet with his long strokes and before you know it, he whimpers and gnaws on his lower lip while you feel warmth filling you.

His eyes flutter shut and you crane your neck to press your lips against his, the smooth flesh making you smile. It’s so familiar. It’s home.

“I love you,” you whisper a final time despite knowing he can hear you even over his deep breaths. His head comes to rest on your clavicle and you press his face between your hands the best that you can in the awkward position the two of you have come to rest in.

“I know,” he finally whispers back and you hold him to your body for as long as you reasonably can.

This late in the night, it’ll probably be until the sun rises and reminds you that another world exists outside of the tangle of your bodies as little as you’d like to face it.

Until then, though, paradise is pressed against your chest in a heavy breathing heap.

Some lovely people have tried to inform me that real hedgies can have clicky purrs and I am very much aware of that. I just think Shadow is built different.

Like, louder.

Traditional Country Style, 1991

Bakugo is the type of idiot who doesn’t realize that roughhousing with someone you’re interested in is erotic … not until your legs end up around his waist, his arms above your head and his mouth near yours … and then he’s just thinking oh shit lmfao