SYNOPSIS: Sure, You Have More Than Just A Tiny Crush On Suna Rintarou, But That Doesn’t Mean You Can’t

barbarian bakugou who has an arranged marriage with you to strengthen the kingdom and refuses to accept he's actually falling in love with you along the way

Barbarian!Bakugo x reader

Warnings: mention of injury

Bakugo had married you as a plot for his own strength, for his tribes strength. You were a means to an end for his dream, and past the official ceremony for your lives to be intertwined, he still hadn’t changed his mind on that. He never even considered changing his mind, because he simply didn’t acknowledge you, he didn’t need to. As if he had some sort of tunnel mindset, that focussed on one thing and only that, to be the best. Everything around him was blackened, cast into darkness by a shadow, apart from his one goal. This was an arranged marriage of convenience. And that was it.

And at some point, you understood that. Particularly on the day, when his large rough hands held yours, as he promised his life to you without a single ounce of his heart truly in his vows. You weren’t a soulmate to him, or barely even a wife, you were a ladder for him to climb over and reach a new piece of land to conquer. What did you expect from a barbarian? All they knew were how to kill and strike chaos, you doubted love was even a developed concept to his kind of people, or maybe they just didn’t care for anything that wasn’t covered in blood. And having understood that, you gave up trying to be that caring wife you really wanted to be. Or at least you tried.

It was hard, pretending a part of your heart didn’t want to love him, because you really wanted to. Bakugo is a hard worker, and took care of your every need be it clothes, wine or any precious jewel from any other land if you ever asked, but none of his heart or even an ounce of feeling was ever put into it, he done it only because you asked and part of that made it hurt even more when asking him for anything. And so, slowly giving up on getting him to be a loving husband to you, you simply and only attended your official wifely duties like attending public feasts with him, but kept yourself much more distant from him in all other aspects. It hurt too much to be near him, like standing close to the sun. But in the same way, standing too far from the sun would kill you, so you remain close enough where it stings, but you at least survive.

And maybe that’s what’s triggered this all, now that Bakugo thinks back to it. When that initial off-putting glow in your eyes faded to a glassed over, dull and greyed look. Maybe that’s when he started to look at you more, see you more. All when it felt a little too late. Seeing you slowly give up on trying to be that intimate lover you wanted to be for him, that he never really wanted, instead you became a more quiet version of yourself. More mute, less touching, more forced. It bothered him.

He notices it, without even realising he’s noticed it. How you go from trying to link arms with him and walk side by side with him, to walking constantly 3 steps behind him. Like some sort of subordinate, you were quick to understand your position in this marriage and somehow that irritated him. Only he would be able to able to be mad about someone doing their job too well. Call him picky, but he didn’t know why it annoyed him himself.

You still shared a bed, the shame of not sharing one was far greater than the shame of exposing yourselves to each other, was it how your skin felt? Was that what caused it all? Bakugo felt like, when he looked at you something deep in his chest was capsizing, a cavity grew there and it ached. As any man would, he continued to ignore it. But when your skin brushed against his in bed, when he felt that warmth your body hid away behind cold stares, it was hard to ignore that ache. Instead that ache would travel from his heart to his mind, and then it does it’s loathe-some wandering.

Thinking of you.

The more he tries to figure out why, the more you consume his thoughts, even when all bloody on hunting grounds, on the edge between severe injury and a bounty able to feed a family for a week, he still thinks of you. The way you smelt when you were against him in the morning unintentionally while you slept. That way you have some more colour and life to your expressions when you talk to the maids or get a nice cut of meat on your plate at dinner. And the way you- fuck. He’s cut his hand while tackling down a boar without even realising it. It’s your fault.

Its you. It’s all you. Why he’s acting weird or can’t even think, its all because of you, somehow sometime you’ve done something to him and he hates the feeling of it. And that powerlessness he feels of being so strong and feared, yet unable to figure out this lingering feeling he has bothers him even more.

You smiled at the seamstress today. And even spared a laugh. Katsuki didn’t intend on walking in on it, but he was passing by, on his way to the armoury when he saw you talking with the aged woman. You looked pretty when you smiled.

Pretty.

When was it he started having words like that in his vocabulary? Maybe when he called over the female jeweller, asking her what would be the best and most precious jewel he could give you. What was he doing anymore? Barbarians didn’t give each other shiny stones on delicate chains, they offered the skins of the most ferocious beasts in the land as a sign of deathly devotion. That was until he found out courting behaviours where you came from were much different. So here he is trying to accommodate to your customs. For you.

What is he doing?

He tries to deny it for a few weeks, pretending it’s nothing. He must be tired, stressed, heck maybe he’s just adjusting himself to having a woman so close to him. But pretending becomes less and less possible by the day. He hates waking up next to you. You always look so defenceless, the guard you have up around him constantly has vanished while you lay there asleep, face completely relaxed, hair unruly, skin bright, much like the you that he met before you married. On most days, he’ll force himself out of bed, pretending he’s having insane thoughts only because he just woke up. He must be half asleep.

Denial.

The fact that you consume his every waking thought makes him more antsy around you, more agitated. He can’t stand the sight of you, yet equally when you’re away, his mind obsesses over you even more. He’s reached a point where the only time he can silence his mind with all its incessant thoughts of you is when you’re right by his side, but that causes a whole new problem for his heart. When was the first time you started to fill his mind with thoughts of you you you? When his heart ached around you and apart from you, when his throat itched every time he spoke to yo-

He remembers now. It was the first winter night you spent together wedded, by then you were only wed for two seasons, and this winter were to be the roughest yet, where things become their worst and darkest in the tribe. Food becomes scarce, the weather becomes cold and brutal, and more people become irritable in these harsh conditions. Katsuki hated the cold, and he hated having to hunt in the winter even more. It was a shitty day, and unexpectedly he came home with an injury from a wild animal he wasn’t prepared to face. It was a large cut on his arm, still bleeding but slowly by the time he arrived home. He remembers that look in your eyes, pure fear, not of him but for him. He remembers how you stayed awake all night, sitting by him with a warm cloth, helping him with his wound. You didn’t even need to do all of that. You shouldn’t have to, there are plenty people equipped in the tribe able to take care of wounds like that. But you insisted he sat down and helped him. Your skin was warm. And your touch was soft, far softer than anything he had experienced from others around him.

His cut was ugly, with dried blood already covering half of it, while the other half spewed more, and he could tell you hated the sight of it, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you pulled a pained, contorted face at every swab to his injury said it all. And yet, as much as you hated it, you did it for him. You helped him take care of it, even after he insisted he could do it himself and that you should sleep. He watched your tired eyes as you let his blood dirty your clean hands throughout the whole night. He asked why you even bothered, because you didn’t need to do all shit. What the fuck was it you said to him that night?

“Because I’m your wife.”

Yeah it was then. Thats when he first felt that feeling. What caused this whole mess in his mind and heart in the first place.

Or probably, it was all of it. A little bit of everything, that made him stop thinking of you as a tool, and more as a woman, his wife, his love. Seeing you for who you were, more than what you let him see, and trying to understand you more. The more he thinks of it, the more the pieces all start to fit into a much bigger picture he was too blind to see before. He had only focussed on one piece for so long that he had lost sight of that big picture, which made it all the more impactful when he stood back and finally looked at it all at once.

Love.

Did he really love you? He must have. It’s the only explanation for his absurd behaviour. To think someone responsible for so much spilt blood was able to reserve the most tender part of his heart for something as delicate as love. It’s a shock, and he refuses to believe it at first, but the more he rejected the idea, the more it became obvious to him that he did love you. It’s why he insisted you stayed by him whenever you could, why he even bothered anymore in this marriage.

Unfortunately, he’s a little late, you’ve already lost your hope in having him love you. He hurt you without even trying to, without laying a hand on you. And somehow that made it hurt even more. Once Katsuki realises his fault, he’ll start to live his live devoted to you tirelessly, because if given the chance to earn your love all over again, even if he worked to the day he die for it, he’d take it.

I hope you like this! I love writing about mixed emotions and pining… so this was super fun to write :) if you enjoyed, don’t be shy to like, comment or reblog, because I read everything you guys say!

Reaaaally feeling the bully!Bakugou being sweet and redeeming himself to victim!darling!!! But could you make one where darling doesn’t accept him after all 😈 😈 😈 and he’s suddenly not so inclined to be sweet anymore???

Changed it up a bit from the last one cuz i didn’t wanna write the same-ish thing, but anyway check that one out too here

BNHA ! FIC

Bakugou Katsuki x darling

TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon, mentions of minors/teens having sex (but no actual depictions of it), toxic relationship, possessiveness, angst WC: 3.5k

No One Else

She’s not sure why she'd ever let it drag out for so long. 

In the beginning, it could be blamed on things outside their control. Where, between the tension that had always simmered within their strained dynamic as pretty girl and vile boy -plus the oncoming of puberty and its whirl of hormones- they were both left in a turmoil of strange pheromones making them panicked, embarrassed, confused, and most of all in dire need of an outlet for it all.

One of which they surprisingly found in each other.

They’d been but foolish teenagers at a silly house party at the time, their first-ever shots of alcohol buzzing through their system as they shared a kiss like none other. 

They’d stumbled up the stairs and gotten frisky in the bedroom while family pictures of their shared friend and his family witnessed them tearing at each other until the skin of childhood had shed and left them both as grown-ups. 

Waking up with a new special understanding of themselves and each other, one with a strange respect and newfound curiosity for the other’s body.

But why he hadn't grown bored of it since and why she'd never put her foot down and ended things was beyond her.

Katsuki had explained it once, one of those times he'd come stumbling into her apartment, drunk and in the midst of buckling up his pants while pawing at her. Kissing her sloppy, he’d mumbled out something along the lines of how no one else knows him like she does. 

And she supposed that had mainly been the reason; that they just knew each other too well and had known each other too long, to which point everyone else just seemed alien; that there was a sort of comfort -if one could call it that- in the familiarity of each other that just couldn't be replicated or replaced by anyone else. 

She’d been raised and groomed to sustain Katsuki and all his ugly tempers all her life. And -blinded by a sense of distorted credit she used to don herself- she couldn't quite imagine anyone being able to handle him but her. And -though she still can’t really put her finger on why- the thought had used to make her proud.

It had made her feel somewhat special...

And needed.

She thought it would go on forever then…

Not that she’d ever bothered to give it much thought. 

That is… until she had that very flirty encounter at the café where she worked. Where, in between being sweet-talked into a stuttering blushed mess and being asked out for coffee someplace where she wouldn't have to serve it herself, she’d come to question her current relationship and started doubting her true obligations toward Katsuki as a partner.

They didn’t go on dates. They didn’t live together. They didn’t text or call one another. They didn’t eat dinner or plan things or visit each other’s parents. 

She didn’t have anything in his apartment, nor him in hers. She’d never washed any of his clothes. She’d never worn any of his clothes. She’d never even driven his car. 

They’d never given each other presents. They didn’t tell people about their relationship. They didn’t talk about work, their day, or their feelings. Actually -having given it a long thought- they didn’t really talk at all. 

In fact, when it came down to it, the only thing she'd been able to think of that they'd ever done together… was sex.

Sex and nothing more…

She doesn’t know if things would have ever changed if he hadn’t asked her what the number scrawled in blue pen on her arm was...

But nevertheless, that’s when Katsuki started acting strange.

She'd never expected he’d get so upset by it, but she ended up apologizing that night while promising him that next time she wouldn’t be so silly, that next time she’d make it clear she already had a boyfriend.

She remembers thinking how the way he fucked her that night had been nothing short of desperate. Having given her nearly no room to breathe with how tightly he’d held her, his face nuzzling into her neck with lovebites, thrusting into her in such a way he was barely even pulling out, pounding her cervix more than her cunt to the point she’d feared it bruised, having had to pat his shoulder to tell him to calm down. 

He’d held her face then, and she’d realized that they hadn’t really had too much eye contact before. She remembers that even then, she couldn’t really decide if she liked it or not. Or rather... she’s sure she’d found it unpleasant, though just hadn’t had the guts to give the feeling any influence. 

She regrets it now that it’s too late. Maybe if she’d done or said something back then, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was trapped in now.

For lack of a better -more suitable- word, she’d have to say he’d become clingy if only it didn’t sound too sweet and childish for someone so much larger than her. But maybe she’d just feared calling it what it had been.

And what it had really been…

Was threatening.

Overbearing and possessive, and needlessly protective. He’d quickly become paranoid with jealousy. Portraying strange obsessive emotions she hadn't known he harbored for her at all until then.

She hadn’t really been able to put her finger on it at the time.

It started out small. Or, small in comparison to now. Small pleasantries he’d never bothered with before. Small niceties she’d never imagined the two of them would do together. 

Thinking back, the first deviation -aside from the triggering night he’d initially seen the phone number and felt the threat of her slipping from his grasp- was the time he’d come and visited her at work when out on patrol. And though he hadn’t really asked, she’d come to realize -rather hesitantly- that he’d come there to eat lunch together with her.

Maybe she’d been too swept up in the embarrassing buzz to notice, caught in the paparazzi of hushed whispers and judgy stares -all of them asking whom the Plain Jane thought she was, eating lunch with the up-and-coming pro-hero Dynamight- she hadn’t really the time nor mind to pay attention to him and all his newly awoken instincts regarding her.

It seemed fucking silly now… How she’d foolishly thought the bizarre lunch was an isolated incident of which wouldn’t ever happen again, only to find herself quickly schooled the next day and the day after that, coming to understand she was to expect it as a regular thing. And soon, it wasn’t even the strangest thing anymore.

Soon he was driving her home every day, coming inside, eating dinner, watching the news until late, and staying the night. Soon she found herself waking up in his apartment alone, coming downstairs to find he’d made her breakfast before leaving, combined with a little note telling her when he’d be back. Soon she wasn’t spending a single week or weekend without him. Soon she couldn’t find anything to wear that didn’t either remind her of him or smell like him or that downright didn’t belong to him completely.

And he’d started taking her places too -on dates- broadcasting their relationship to anyone with a cameraphone who could snap a picture and send it to every gossip magazine in Japan. He’d introduced her to his colleagues -whom she knew to be “friends” from some rather upsetting stories he’d told her when he was in a less and less rare mood for talking- and they’d seemed to know whom she was just as intimately, giving her the sneaking suspicion that Katsuki’d been running his mouth and saying private things he ought not to.

But that had all been child’s play.

It got out of control when he’d ordered a delivery truck to pack down all her things and move them all to his apartment before she got home from work. Sure, he’d introduced the idea of living together in passing, but she couldn’t remember ever committing to it or being at all close to an understanding of where and when.

Thinking about it now, that was probably her last chance of escaping before things got ugly.

But then, it was already too late. She was living with him suddenly. Sharing all his space while unable to shake that awfully crippling feeling of just being another medal or trophy up on the mantle. Just a decorative doll he’d locked behind glass.

She’d felt as though her head was in a cloud. And not in a nice way, but in the utmost hollow way. As though she’d put herself on auto-pilot and just gone with the stream like jellyfish.

And now…

Now he was down on one knee.

Asking -no demanding- that she give him everything. 

For life until due death.

Just the two of them. 

Together.

Forever.

She swallowed thickly, feeling her head prickle as though it had fallen asleep without taking her with it. 

Her lips dry, her eyes dry, feeling more sober than ever.

She took a breath and, on the next exhale, spoke.

“No.”

They both just stared at each other for a while as though neither could decide who was more shell-shocked and had the right reserved to remain still the longest. She left -deciding it was the person on the floor with the expensive ring weighing down his hand- and walked towards the mudroom.

“What are you doing?” He asked then, hesitantly at first. Shaken from his spot, he’d resumed his full height again, loudly stomping across the floor to reach her.

“I’m sorry- I- I can’t stay here- I need to go.” She rushed, head spinning, only able to understand how she wanted to put shoes on and leave. Maybe get a drink at a bar by herself and figure her shit out without being suffocated by him.

“Don’t do this.” He said then, sounding desperate and somewhat feeble if it weren’t for how he had her pushed against the wall in the same second.

She nearly decided against herself when seeing the look on his face. Warped into something truly fragile. Plead had his brows pinched together while his sharp red eyes -now doe-like- had glossed over and looked nothing short of hopeless and scared.

She’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her heart twist and ache and feel a little guilty.

But nevertheless.

“I can’t marry you, Katsuki….”

She couldn’t keep doing this.

“I’m sorry- I don’t love-” 

She didn’t get to finish. The word taken, stifled, strangled in a fist closing around her throat.

“You do love me.” He refuted quickly, as though terrified to have let her finish. “You’ve always loved me.” Trembling while he said it, as though trying to force himself into believing it too. 

Shaking her collar in unstable hands. Bearing down on her until she couldn’t be pushed flatter against the stone behind her, until his forehead rested against the wall and his lips brushed the shell of her ear in hot, heavy strained breaths. 

“You’re just confused.” He rasped, voice light and breathy and nearly amounting to a giggle -or a sob- she wasn’t sure which.

But she couldn’t care much when she couldn’t breathe. Head burning into a numb wet cotton that was no longer able to tell her to push him off and instead let her hands go limp against his chest, knees going weak beneath her. 

“Katsuki… Kat… su-”

She was convinced he’d kill her before the tiniest slither of air was allowed back in through her windpipe, gasping for it like a glutton until coughing it all up again when choking on her own desperate gulps. 

Her hands held her throat in an act of soothing it from the forming bruises and shielding it from further attack. But Katsuki was ahead of her and had his sights on attacking something else.

He took her by the hair and started pulling, dragging her from the door and further into the apartment.

“Stop- stop it- Katsuki-” She begged between hiccups and coughs, her hands clawing at his in an effort to free his grasp from her scalp. Her shins dragged to burns against the cold marble as her legs kicked in the struggle, hitting the floor in a series of sporadic thuds until he stopped. “Katsuki-”

He’d crossed the threshold of their bedroom and was now throwing her down on the mattress, pinning her in the same second with a hand gripping her jaw and eyes a searing cold that seemed to lash out at her like unstable fire, glaring at her with a look so blank and empty she felt it like the chill of death creep throughout her bones.

“If you want me to be nice, you should shut up.”

She knew she ought to listen, but still, one last prayer slipped off her tongue against her better judgment before she could think twice about it. “Katsuki, please don’t do this-”

“Don’t do what!?” He barked -spit flying and teeth bared just like a rabid rottweiler- louder than she’d ever witnessed, loud enough to make her wince. “Break your heart!?” His voice cracked on the cry, and he paused, giving another gruesome and gut-wrenching chuckle. Head ducking between her breasts with spikey hair nipping at her throat like a million needles. 

His hand tightened even more, clawing into her cheeks.

“I’m just making things even.”

She’d never realized just how hopeless she was if she’d ever needed to fend him off. But she’d never needed to before, never wanted to until now.

Now that he had her so helplessly beneath him, where the reality was slowly dawning on her and making her ever more hysteric, slowly settling upon her like dust after an explosion. The ensuing violation and her utter defeat in fighting it, her failure in doing much more than make it worse, where every time she landed anything that weakly resembled a slap or kick, he retaliated tenfold by crushing her in his strength.

Spreading her legs by positioning himself between them, he cared little for all her bleating where the former fight she’d tried to make match his diminished into desperate attempts to protect herself instead. She was sobbing now, gasping for breath with her chest rising and falling on beat with the deafening drums of her racing heart.

He tugged his tie loose and threw it off his head, wrapping her wrists in the loop and tightening it into restraints. Only now noticing just how brittle she was. So much smaller than him. So much so, he nearly abandoned his task of tying her hands to the bedpost in all. But -finding he might lose his cool and break her arm if she dared continue shoving at him- he pulled them over her head and fastened them anyway, if not for his than for her sake to avoid it.

And then she really was less than nothing beneath him. Just a defenseless pile of warm plush flesh soft against him and all his scarred muscles and callouses and years upon years of dedicated training.

She’d pulled her thighs shut, but it hardly mattered. His hands -buried in the fine plume of her cakey fat- had them both spread again with nearly no strength put into it at all. 

It was all right there -taken with no effort- only a cute pink cotton panty stopping him. 

His heart clenched at that, flickered and tugged with misery at the look of her crying into her own arm, trying to comfort herself while her chest heaved, already tired of screaming and bawling. Having resorted to soft sniffles and weak snivels while tiny quakes shook through her still, goosebumps adorning all her exposed flesh, which was every part of her sept for what her pretty silk dress kept hidden.

She was so beautiful…

Adorable. 

Precious and just…

Too good.

He knew that. He knew that she was too good for him and had always been too good for him -part of the reason why he used to act as though he hated her- when, in reality… he actually…

“I love you.” He cried. “I’ve always loved you….”

Hot tears splashed in big droplets, staining the silk with splotches that seeped into large flecks on her stomach. 

“I can’t live without you-” He continued, his hands shaking where he held her apart while his body sagged forward, bowing down, donning soft kisses to her neck and jaw, upon the tears staining her cheeks with streaks, whispering in a voice close to breaking. “I can’t- I won’t-” Choked and pitiful, raw from shouting only a moment earlier.

One of his hands detached from its bruising grip, whilst the other loosened and slid higher -pulling her dress up on its way- and started rubbing loving circles into her midriff. She heard his buckle go undone a second later and offered another whimpering sob, her own hands jostling in their bonds on beat with her shaky breaths while trying to angle her face further away with the aim of avoiding the attack of his wet teary kisses.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, but I can’t… I can’t let you go.”

She felt him press against her clothed cunt with the weight of his swollen thickness and let out another whimper. Nose stuffed full with the smell of his breath and the scent of his sweet nitro-like sweat and eyes full of unyielding tears. 

His hand reached for her panty, hooking the trail and pulling it to the side, making her sink her teeth into the plump of her lip to suppress yet another whimper while she cringed with uncomfort and the unanswered wishes for him to stop as he nibbled on the corner of her mouth with more teary proposals.

His fingers soon prodded her slit like they’d done nearly every day for years since they were but teens. Touching her with a perfected skill he’d learned would have her shiver with arousal. 

She yielded quickly, her sex turning puffy and wet sooner than she had the time to be embarrassed about it.

“No one knows you as well as I do. No one loves you as much as I do.” He chanted against her skin, entering her with both his longest digits, pumping them deep and scraping them in a cruel curl into that spot he knew had her toes doing the same. Smiling, once her hips made an involuntary jolt in response. “No one else but me.” 

He pulled his hands to himself once she’d left three of his digits warm and soaking with slick, lathering his own arousal with it before nudging his cockhead against her opening in a sticky kiss and breaching it.

She stiffened, and he groaned into her neck at the feel of her clamping down even tighter as he bottomed out into her already taunt choke.

“No one else would know how to love you.” He hissed, setting a sweet tempo, lips still close, grazing on the peachfuzz of her cheek, ghosting her skin with hot breaths and even hotter words.  “No one else would know the first thing to do with you once they had you.”

She shook her head, more so in askance of space than anything else. Needing air free of him. Needing to clear her head off the building warmth she felt spread from her core. Needing to shake the coil loose before it could knot itself further. But it seemed the more she tried fending it off, the faster it neared its end, like a spark aided by the wind in chasing the tail of a wic until exploding what dynamite found at its end.

She always shook so prettily when cumming -so preciously- when spilling over and moaning all flushed and cute for him with her hips riding it out against his until it left her panting, blushed, and adorned with a shiny sheen of dew, making her look golden in the glory of the after high.

He used to regard it as something sweet she’d give him, like a reward or devotion. 

Only now did he realize how utterly at his mercy she was -unable to keep even this from him- just completely laid bare to accept what he gave and give what he decided to take.

She was his, and not even she herself could deny it. 

She belonged to him.

She belonged to him. 

She belonged to him. 

“No one else.”

tip-jar: Kofi

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read this far, we're fucking making out.

Here's a hug!

-dabihawksluva

Thank you @dabihawksluva 🥹🙌

𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

— you’re an up and coming pro hero; fresh faced, roaring through your twenties with your highly successful U.A years far behind you. but when one little drunk slip up has you falling through the hero ranks, will a single pretty bird of prey help you soar back up? or will you end up falling for him?

⇝ pairing: keigo takami x fem!reader

⇝ status: COMPLETE.

⇝ updates: every monday, friday && sunday !

⇝ genre: social media!au, pro hero!au, fake dating!au, crack, fluff, angst, smut.

⇝ warning(s): swearing ( mostly bakugou ), suggestive, rated 17+, slight!age gap, eventual smut hoho, everyone is aged-up into their twenties since they’re pros now, todoroki siblings being a mess, um crazy exes and stupid boys? 

⇝ author’s note(s): this isn’t my first smau but it is my first one for my hero and on this blog ! i hope y’all keigo simps enjoy bc i had so much fun writing this and hope to write more smaus in the future <3 

TAGLIST  ✈️ CLOSED

Keep reading

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

Older!pro hero!Bakugo falling for one of UA's newer students seven years after he graduated.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+!!

Note: I am without a doubt going to expand on this later, so consider this a teaser and let me know if anyone would like to be tagged when I post that one!

He only went back to participate in some event the school was hosting, standing near the edge of the stage next to Red Riot. He face was rigid, and his expression twisted in annoyance at having to be there as he handed out certificates to the approaching students.

He notices you after a couple of minutes standing there, his eyes glued to your side profile as you converse with your classmates. He thinks you're absolutely beautiful, and he tries not to let himself get distracted, but he can't help himself.

Everyone's giddy at seeing the heroes in their school's hall, even though they're alumni and their pictures are plastered on walls all around the school. You're excited too, and he likes that.

He likes that your eyes keep glancing over to where he's standing, and he can see how you grin, how you look towards the girl at your left, mouthing, 'Dynamight's looking here, right?'

He can't help the pride swelling his chest, his eyes still stuck on you even when you leave, all the students filing out of the classroom.

He's quick to put out an offer to you to join his agency when you guys graduate two months later. It's uncharacteristic of him, and his assistant is more than shocked when asked to send the letter, but he doesn't really care.

He doesn't care when Mina and Todoroki ask him why he's at your class's graduation even though he's always invited and has never shown up before.

He also doesn't care how quick Heroes Weekly is to talk about the first UA student to be offered a sidekick role at Dynamight's agency straight from graduation.

And he honestly couldn't care less about waking up to the scandalous picture all over social media about 6 months after.

DYNAMIGHT CAUGHT GETTING COSY WITH HIS NEW SIDEKICK!

And it's a picture of you sitting on his lap, hands rubbing over his chest, exposed by the undone buttons of his shirt, taken in the VIP section of a high-end club he and other heroes frequented.

He smirks to himself, throwing his phone on his bedside table as he climbs back into the sheets, running his palm over your naked back and leaning in to kiss the back of your neck softly.

Extra note: I guess it's my fault for writing it this way, but please, reader is 18! 😭she's unironically inspired by me, and I was 18 before I graduated, so she's intended to be 18 in her last year of school.

You don’t turn back. No matter how much his screams tear at your heart. No matter how painful each step was to take. Maybe your heart won’t ever heal from this. Maybe you’ll never be happy again.

But at least the man you love has a chance to be.

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader, Bakugo Katsuki x Uraraka

Warnings: Contains mature content, mentions of cheating, alcohol, pregnancy and anxiety triggers

A/N: This was supposedly a one-shot that turned into a series. ❤ Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Bonus: Alternate Ending

WOULD THAT I

The Gojo heir doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

status: in progress

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

notes: this has been haunting me ever since i first posted the concept. hopefully it lives up to the idea! title is from hozier.

content: soulmate au (names written on skin), possessive gojo, more warnings to be added.

read on ao3

prologue - october 4

part one - tbd

part two - tbd

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2