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LOVELY TO BE HERE (WITH YOU) - midoriya izuku x f!reader 

with midoriya izuku, some things have always been easy. other things, however, have not.

genre: a strangers to lovers to exes to lovers au, pro hero au | angst, fluff

warnings: aged up characters (you and Izuku go through your 20s during this fic), a right person wrong time fic, hurt/comfort, happy ending, Izuku is taller than you, insecurity, talks of a boss/employee relationship (nothing happens during that time), making out, some smut (fem!recieving oral, mating press, slight dom!Izuku?? some dumbification… not actually sure I’m just putting it in the warning just in case, use of “pretty girl” and “good girl”), mentions of an outside natural disaster, arguments, you and Izuku gets a little Mean during the argument, Bakugou and Kirishima are your Helpful Friends and Good Bosses, some recreational alcohol consumption at a party

word count: 22k 

a/n: vaguely inspired by that tiktok trend with the “ceilings” by lizzy mcalpine audio… if you know you know. this is so behind the trend lol it ended up so much longer than i thought it would be so a lot of this hasn’t been thoroughly read through i am sorry lol 

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You are twenty-two years old when you get the email - an offer letter that confirms your acceptance for an entry level office assistant position at Deku’s agency. And for someone like you who is in the final year of university and has been looking for a job to get a head start on your career, this is a very exciting opportunity. 

Keep reading

The King is But a Man Series Masterlist

in which crown prince gojo satoru, thought to be dead, returns to take back what’s rightfully his

the queen lets go of your hand for the first time since the captain of the guard had stormed into her room and told you all to flee. she orders her men to stand down; outnumbered as they are, it will be little more than a bloodbath. regally, she approaches, head held high, much to the amusement of the brute before her—his mouth stretches wide and he lifts a wicked sword, arm so long that he needn’t even step forward for the point to press beneath her chin.

“hello, auntie,” he says, grin flashing teeth sharp as the blade he points at your queen. “i hope you didn’t plan to run off before my coronation. we wouldn’t want to miss the festivities, now, would we?”

and you still want to disbelieve, yet with his free hand he reaches up, hooks his thumb beneath the cloth, and reveals a single brilliant blue eye—a gojo eye, the color of the sky and the sea, sign of the gods’ blessing, the physical marker of one born to rule. cold as steel and directed not at the queen but at you, stealing the breath from your lungs with the manic light within.

“not when everything i’ve wanted for so long is finally in reach.”

drabble 〉the reader and gojo spend years yearning/mourning while gojo is “dead”

drabble 〉usurper!gojo leads a coup

drabble 〉usurper!gojo finds the queen’s maid!reader after the coup

drabble 〉usurper!gojo sees the necklace reader still wears

one-shot 〉flower crowns: king!gojo and his attempts at courting

one-shot 〉shortcake crumbs: king!gojo is jealous of lord nanami

drabble 〉usurper!gojo doesn’t intend to have children

drabble 〉queen apparent!reader’s thoughts in the time between the coup and their marriage

one-shot 〉empty beds: king!gojo finds his bed empty after returning from a trip

drabble 〉a conspirator poisons queen!reader’s food

From the Shadows

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : The fact of the matter is, unrequited love sucks.

Warning : None.

“A mighty pain to love it is, And ‘t is a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.”

Ain't that the truth, you think. Gaze running over the tattered pages of your journal, reading the poem over and over again— as though it might soothe the sting.

Unrequited love sucks. 

Your eyes dart up from your journal, fixing on the subject of your thoughts.

Five Hargreeves. 

Sitting a seat forward on your left, next to the window. Head tilted down, scribbling away, wholly oblivious to your stare.

It'd caused such a ruckus in the school when 'The Umbrella Academy' started attending. Whispers and wide-eyed stares followed them, like they were stars—which fair they kinda are. It took months before things settled down. 

Not that the stares and whispers stopped, mind you, they are still the apple of everyone's eyes, the students just got less starstruck and more subtle.

As for you?

After being paired for a project with Ben in literature class, you'd gotten closer to some of the others, emphasis on some. 

Luther had shown clear disapproval at your appearance—something about you being an outsider. Diego too prickly, and prefers to brood. Allison too busy with theater, although you still exchanged polite greetings. 

Klaus, Ben, and Viktor, on the other hand, had welcomed you with warmth. Ben and Viktor share your love for literature, and Klaus brings along an impulsive kind of fun with him, which you are all too eager to participate in. 

Which brings you back to— Five. You still don't know how you became friends with him. 

All you know is one afternoon you were waiting for your friends in the empty library, only to receive a text that they were bunking. You remember saying—

"Damn you, Klaus!"

"I share that sentiment," a voice spoke, startling you. 

You turned around, eyes settling on the culprit. Five Hargreeves. He stood, leaning against the bookshelf, hands shoved in his pockets. 

You'd talked to him a handful of times, during class, or when with his siblings. Acquaintances at best, still you both never tried to initiate a friendship or conversation. 

"Seems someone was ditched," he continued, an easy smirk on his face. "I feel like I should ask you to join me," the smirk grew, "out of the goodness of my heart."

"And why, exactly, am I being showered in such kindness?" You retort. Lips curling upwards as you stepped towards him. 

"Haven't you heard?" He tilted his head, a brow rising. "I'm a superhero. Benevolence is kinda our thing."

"Is that so?" you asked. 

He gave a nod, mirth gleaming.

"How will I ever repay for such generosity?" Eyes widening dramatically. 

"Well," a mocking frown, he pursued his lips. "You can promise to stay quiet as I work? Not too much, is it?"

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped past your lips. You looked at him, taking note of the tiny curl of his lips. 

"Lead the way."

And that was that. After that, talking to him became a routine, and before you knew it you'd grown much closer to him than Ben, or Klaus or Viktor. 

It's been two years since you both became friends. Almost a year since you realized you're in love with him.  

It feels like it happened all of a sudden and simultaneously, as though every second and every moment spent with him led to it. 

Everyone knows. Your best friend. Ben, Klaus, Viktor. You have a suspicion that even Diego knows. And yet, it's a secret. 

A secret that protects itself. Only from him. 

You are a coward. You don't—can't fathom confessing to him. So, you stay in the shadows. And your love stays there with you. 

You and your love. 

From the shadows. 

Your gaze clears at the thought—stepping out of the reverie—and locks on him again. 

The sunlight filtering through, tracing his skin, making him even more mystical. A blue hue in his eyes as he concentrates on whatever he is working on. The furrow of his brow, the twitch of his nose. 

Him in his entirety. Extraordinary. 

You sigh. Extraordinary sounds like such a beautiful compliment, but not to you. To you, him being extraordinary means he's that much out of reach. Your reach. 

Like, no matter what, there's always going to be an invisible line between you two. Separating you. 

"You are staring," a voice cuts through. "Again."

Tell me something new.

You turn in the direction of it. Peering at your best friend. "Yes, Lila," you deadpan.

Lila, your best friend. 

"It's pathetic."

Lila, your childhood best friend who has no filter. 

"Yes, Lila," you agree. Honestly, at this point you're devoid of shame. 

"Seriously, what do you even see in him?"

You open your mouth to question what she sees in the brooder, but your attention diverts. 

Gaze narrowing at the feminine hand that has curled around Five's hand, to draw his attention. And yours inevitably. 

Dolores. 

You almost dismiss her. Almost. 

It's Five. He'll brush the girl off. It's what he does. Has always done. 

Not this time, it seems. 

Because Five smiles.

A seed of dread plants itself in your stomach. 

You look between the two of them. The smiles on their faces resonates a sinking feeling in your heart. 

Yeah, unrequited love sucks.

..................................................................................

A/N :

Hello!

The poem at the start is by Abraham Cowley. Beautiful isn't it?

I really wanted to write an AU like this tbh, unrequited love kinda one. Angsty. So here it is. This one will have more parts btw.

Also for those who're waiting for Ballerinas & Brellies, I'm working on the chapter it's taking a bit longer, sorry about that.

I'm considering making a taglist, so like if you guys want to be added let me know.

Hope you enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

pandemonium

noun; wild and noisy disorder or confusion; uproar. Also: a chaotic situation

Katsuki Bakugou X Reader

WC: 1.7K

Just thinking about how Katsuki doesn't realize how loud his life actually is. 

It's no surprise that the pro hero is well known for being loud, and down right rude to top it off. He was content with the life he had led so far. Sure it had its ups and downs, but he made it work in his favor. He was strong and damn near unbeatable when it came to his line of work. 

One of the aspects he hated about his job was the way people looked into his success and failures. Picking through the wreckage of his battles with a fine tooth comb until the paparazzi had something to stalk him about that week. Worming their way into a closed off scene to get the first pictures of the wreckage he managed to leave behind. 

Thye were loud.

Following him foolishly from each scene of battle, all the way back to the agency. And sometimes either the extremely brave, and mostly stupid one trying to follow him home. 

And tonight was no exception. 

He left quite a but of damage to the two blocks of the city he fought in. Damages ranged from broken windows to demolished cars. And a small army of paparazzi and reporters were attempting to follow him as he left the agency for the night. 

It bothered him more than it normally would tonight. Had him barking and yelling insults as the cameras flashed and reporters yelled questions. He was faster, just enough to put a block of distance between them when he spotted a cracked door to the library. 

He took his chance and rushed the door and closed it behind him. Resting his back against the wall keeping a lookout for the crowd to pass by. He could hear their voices and see the lights as they rushed by, a small breath of relief left him as he managed to escape just in time. 

"I'm sorry sir, but the library is closed." Your soft voice rings out in the silence. 

Almost comically slow he turns his head and sees you standing just at the main entrance, with a large stack of heavy books in your hands. Looming taken back by the massive pro standing in your workplace. 

But he also notices the way your struggling to keep the heavy load in your arms. And it's calling out to his base hero instincts to help a civilian out. Not taking longer than a moment to huff and stride over to you and take the books from your hands. 

"Gonna throw yer back out trying to carry that shit" He gruffs, waiting for you to lead the way. 

And you do. 

Quietly, he appreciates it. You don't try to force a conversation or ask him why he's there. You simply lead him down the endless isles and occasionally take a book from the top of his pile and place it on the shelf. Humming softly as you went. Dragging your hand down the spines of the books, double checking you were in the right area for the next book before placing it in the right spot. 

And by the time you pluck the last book from his hands, he feels a weird emotion brewing in his chest. 

Peace. 

His shoulders didn't feel as tight compared to when he walked in. His heart wasn't beating a mile a minute anymore. He didn't want to admit he felt calm with anyone, especially a stranger.

But after that night he learned your name, and you sent him on his way with a gentle nudge out the backdoor and a fucking apple juice box of all things.. 

Perhaps that random act of kindness from you was the reason he found himself doing the same thing a week later. Finding you slowly stacking books on the counter, ready to pull them into your arms when you look over and see him.

"Oh, hello again!" You spoke softly, but the smile you has on your face made him feel warmed. 

The same thing happens again, he carries your heavy stack of books. You hum a song, and he feels lighter than he ever has by the time you take the last book from his calloused hands. 

This time he finds himself not wanting to leave as quickly. Content to watch you from the desk chair as you tidy up for a while. Still happily humming away some song that reminds him of his childhood.

He walks you home that night, claiming that it was too dangerous to let you wall home alone at night. He asks questions, small ones at first. Like where you're from, and how you ended up here of all places. Your likes and dislikes. Finally dropping you off safely at the front door of your home, waiting until your inside and he can hear the lock shut on the other side before he starts his journey home. 

It took him a extra hour of walking, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he climbed into bed that night. 

Those late evenings of sneaking into the library, slowly started to turn into him bringing dinner for you to share, and he eventually started to open up. He also found himself sitting closer to you on the large couch in the back, as you would read. He asked you that one time what you were reading and you started to read it out loud to him. 

It was soothing, listening to your voice. Calm but excited to read him a book he had no real interest in. But the way you read each word had him wanting to hear more. You chipped away small pieces of his hard exterior with only the sound of your voice and the turn of a page. 

He wanted to despise those paparazzi idiots who tailed him after every fight, looking for anything they could use as a headline. The true cockroaches of the earth, as they twist his words and take sneaky photos of him when he looks absolutely feral. Playing up the image that he was more monster than a man. 

 But if it wasn't for them he wouldn't have you. 

Almost two years later he finds himself walking the same familiar path to the library. It looks like the normal crowd of people with the same set of questions and flashing lights following behind him. 

He can't be bothered to outrun them this time though. Instead he smirks as he turns the corner and slips inside the back entrance of the library, walking until he sees you. Sitting in your chair behind the front counter, playing on your phone. 

Your hair is slightly messy, and your shoes kicked off and out of the way. That same stack of large books sitting on the counter, waiting for him. You smile gently at him as he walks into view. It was something he had come to love after all this time. The way such a simple gesture made his heart warm in ways he never thought it could. 

And just like he had so many nights before he takes the stack of books from the desk and lets you lead him down the rows of books. Offering him a run down of your day, leaving him to hum softly when you give him the newest hot gossip with the older ladies.

 He wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything in the world.

You were the peace to his violence. the beacon of hope he searched for after a rough day. The gentle sway of your hips and the little tap of your fingertips along the backs of the books as you walked.

 It wasn’t the silence in his world he wanted, it was you. 

Your smile, your goofy laugh. The way your arms reached out to pull him in after a hard day. It was were the small things you offered him with for no reason. Contrasting his brute strength and loud personality with something more delicate. He couldn’t help but let his mouth curl into a soft smile as he followed behind you, the weight of books lightening the more you wandered. 

And he definitely enjoyed the way you still squeaked when he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his embrace before he plants a gentle kiss to your lips. Whispering about how much he loves you, into your ear.

 He adored the flustered look you always wore when he said something borderline filthy. Even in the freezing cold temperature of the library, he could feel your skin heat under his fingertips. Being bold enough to push you to sit on a low counter and bully his way between your legs. Sighing softly against his neck as he works his hands under your blouse. 

He lived for the whine you always made when you forced him to stop. Complaing that there were cameras around, and the last thing you wanted was to star in an amature movie while you were at work. 

If he could, he would live in the moment forever. In the safe and silent confines of the Library. 

But instead he does the right thing, and helps you readjust your shirt. Guiding you down from the counter and helping you finish with whatever bullshit task you still needed to complete before he could take you home. 

Flipping off the lights and lacing his fingers with yours as you lock the door behind you. 

The flashing lights and yells of his name didn’t bother him as much now. Because As he pulls you to stop in just the most picture perfect way. Making sure the cameras catch the name of the library above your head, he smirks at them all before he bends down on one knee. Your eyes alive with tears of joy once you realize what is going on. 

Pulling out the box hes been carrying around in his pocket for six months now, and showing it to you. He opens it and he can’t help but let the image of you be burned into his mind for eternity. Your happy squeal and little jumps as he takes the ring out of the box and gives you a look that speaks more than his loud voice ever could. 

“What do ya say, bookworm?” He smirks as you are already nodding your head and whispering yes. “Think the library will care if I check you out and never bring you back?” 

*If you enjoyed this little snippit, please consider leaving a like or a reblog. I enjoy writing, and I would like to know if you enjoyed it as well. Your likes and comments are greatly appericated♥

DEATHBED | PART ONE.

( OLD MAN NEXT DOOR : GOJO SATORU ) the old man next door always seemed so lonely. you thought you were doing him a favor when you offered to spend some time with him. and in some sorts … you were. | watch time: 3.7k words.

── gilf!gojo & fem-bodied!reader, she/her pronouns, neighbors!au, high age gap, slight degredation (belittling), one (1) clit pinch, fingering, cowgirl, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, balls fondling, slight blowjob, etc.

notes. i never knew how much i needed old men jjk men until writing this tbh. it was a trip! anyway, if you want to join the taglist for this series, please click here.

The old man next door always seemed so lonely. Always sitting down on the front porch in such solitude, watching and observing the world around him and how everything seems to be changing. When you would leave for work, he was always there in the cushioned chair out front and when you came home… he was always there. Sitting on the cushioned chair. Out front. 

Your eyes would always linger on him while his seemed to stay in place behind those dark shades he’s always sporting. It’s night time now, can he even see? Never once did his eyes flicker to yours, making you more brazen in your staring as curiosity only spiked within you. You always told yourself that one day that you’d make your presence known to him, but everyday when that voice inside your head reminded you of your self-proclaimed promise, the same excuse would deter you away— you’re too tired. 

This evening, after work, you had went out to go grocery shopping. You had been putting off the task due to your own laziness and now, you were detrimentally low on practically everything in the house. Forcing yourself to make the trip after your tiresome shift, you regret going within the weekday as everyone and their mother seemed to have taken this particular day to go out, too. The lines were long and you were getting cranky the longer you stood. It was a blessing the moment you took a sharp turn inside of your driveway, quick to park and hop out your car as you popped open the trunk. 

This evening you were so engrossed with heading inside that you never went to look at the old man. If you had, you’d take in immediate fact that his eyes were on you, watching your multiple trips from inside to out, outside to in. You’d notice that even though his glasses hid his eyes, they lingered on your figure, watching how your hips swayed as you took long strides back and forth. You’d have noticed how he’d fixed his posture slightly better to get more of a look on the younger beauty that he deems you to be. 

When you’re finally done and you’re slamming the trunk door shut, you take a moment to pause and lean against your vehicle. Your body relaxes as you throw your head back and led out a groan. Something stirs deep within the old man, something that’s been festering inside of him ever since you moved into the neighborhood again. The sight of you is making him feel younger and he’s quite liking it. You’re pulling the band that’s holding your hair up in one, letting your hair go free as you massage the scalp. With another drawn out groan, you’re finally shuffling back in the direction of your house. Stretching as you go, the old man grows disappointed when two clicks sound from your car as your headlights flash. He never thought he’d grow to miss your curious eyes on him, but here he is.

Finally, he heads back inside his house.

—

The first time you don’t see the old man on the front porch is the day you finally decide to make a visit. You have a small tupperware of cookies in your hand— storebought, because you’re not the best when it comes to baking— when you knock on the door. You’re shuffling on your feet while you’re waiting, chest heaving more and more the longer you wait. You’re trying to be patient but your fists are balling once more to knock again. Knock, knock, kno— 

“Hold on,” you hear from the other side. “I’ll be right there!”

You can hear muffled chatter as well, but nothing you can decipher when you hear the twisting of locks before the door’s pulled open. “Yes?”

He’s trying to keep himself together. The moment he saw you through the peephole, he felt like he was being reverted back to his younger days. No longer was this a game, but now something in actuality as he stares you down. Playing the grumpy old man has always worked in his favor, but he wouldn’t— didn’t— want to run a pretty thing like you away.

You’re holding out the container of cookies for him. “It’s not too late to introduce myself, is it?”

He scrutinizes the cookies, snorting to himself because it’s apparent you didn’t make them yourself. However, he still takes them. “It will be if I don’t like these cookies.”

Leaving the door propped open, he expected you to follow behind him as he opens the thing of  chocolate chip cookies, shoving one right inside his mouth. He hums in delight when he turns around, furrowing his eyebrows when you’re just standing there. “Are you not going to come inside?”

“Oh,” you sigh, taking one step inside as you take in the home. To your surprise, it has much of a more modern take to it— minimal in furniture, but picture frames hanging around of what seems to be photos of him within in his younger years. Your eyes widened, immediately captivated by the sparkle and shine of his cerulean blue eyes and inhuman white hair. Sharp features that certainly had a multitude of people throwing themselves at him. Why have such beautiful qualities to himself and hide them behind glasses?

From the looks of it, he still acquired those great assets to himself. While his stupor seemed shorter than the heights he stood previously and his skin has loosened up, those mere factors only added more character to him. 

“I was a handsome devil back then,” he chuckles, watching you. “If only you were alive back in those days. I’d have made sure to sweep you right off your feet.”

Still in awe from the pictures that aligned the walls, you didn’t quite catch what he said at the end, only nodding your head before following him inside of the kitchen. By the time your visit came to an end, you learned that the old man had a name— Gojo Satoru. He insisted that you called him ‘Satoru’ if you planned to make more visits, something that he was insistent on. “Make sure you actually make me something next time, too.”

That comment made your face heat up when he greeted you out the door, watching you walk all the way to your front door. You glanced his direction one last time, swearing to yourself that, yes, he did in fact send a wink your way before heading back inside. 

—

As promised— or, forced— your visits to Gojo’s became a regular thing. One that always consisted of him telling you stories that occurred when he was younger, always mentioning the names Geto, Shoko and Nanami within them. You could always see the longing within his eyes, finally ridding himself of the glasses the moment you first brought up the question. You were always so enamoured by them the moment he revealed that they still had that same shine to them.

Another recurring theme was his daring hands, his touch seeming to linger on longer the more you allowed them. You always deemed it to accidental or innocent with the way he kept his hand on your lower back. And when you’d jump when they touched your thigh before they glide off, you could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle. However, you were always so dismissive. You should’ve seen right through him when he always manages to sneak in some sort of innuendo to you, or how his eyes would traverse your body as he said some other flirtatious comment your direction. 

In your habitual spot in the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool behind the island as Gojo has taken a spot next to you, he can feel the tension in your legs as he leans into your personal space. He’s telling a story he’s already told before, but you can’t seem to inform him so. You never had the heart to and your mind’s more preoccuppied with the way his thumb is drawing smooth and tantalizing circles into your bare skin. Deciding to wear a short summer dress that flows at the skirt, it rises upward in the seat and only making the older man even more daring.

“Y’know,” he cuts his story short, looking into your eyes. “I’m glad that you took the initiative to introduce yourself to me. Getting up to watch you every morning was getting so tiring.”

“Hm?” Your voice cracks at his admission. “Wha–What do you mean by that?”

“You’re not a very bright one, are you?” he hums, nimble and veiny fingers rising up into the skirt to play with the hem of your underwear. You should pull away. You really should, but gosh, your body won’t muster up the strength. “It seems like the generations are only getting more dunce— do I really have to elaborate, dear?”

They dip to your clit, pressing down so gently against it to elicit a soft sound from your lips. “Did you really think I’d waste my days sitting outside without a purpose?”

“I—I—” You’re failing to come up with a response. Finding yourself in such an unbelievable predicament, your mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air as you try to find any viable words worth speaking. At the end, all you can manage to squeak is, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t mind showing an old man like me a good time, huh?” he asks. “I haven’t found myself with someone so gorgeous— so youthful— in quite awhile. Be a doll for me and give yourself up?”

It takes nothing much to coax you, feeling the arousal in between your legs continuing to grow as his cold digits press against your dark nub. Your body shudders, making you jolt as you nod your head. The ‘yes’ that falls from your lips has him tugging at the crotch of your panties, feeling that wet patch in between as his finger hooks over it and drags down the material. Something so dainty and baby blue, a cute shade against your complexion. 

For a man his age, Gojo still has enough strength in him to pull your seat closer to him as he brings one of your legs over to his lap to spread them out for him. Your hand grips at the edge of the marble counter as your heart races when his hand hurries to hike up the material and revealing your bare lower body. Instinctively, you try to close your legs but he slaps at your thigh in protest. “You’re not backing out now, love. C’mon and let me see that young pussy of yours.”

He has you coming close to the edge of your seat, making sure to have your legs spread wide so he can get a good view of your folds. They glisten like glazed porcelain, your cunt pulsating with such a need as he have you in such a vulnerable state. He moves your leg to rest against him, the next one falling pliant as his next hand goes to grab at your breasts. The way he groans indicates just how much he needs this. There was a point in time where he believed that he’d no longer be able to get hard, but in between his legs, he can feel that stir of his cock. Coming to life, it presses against the loose-fitted bottoms he’s wearing as his thumb swipes over your nipple. 

His index and middle finger presses in between your lips, feeling the sweet nectar of your arousal stick to them as you continue to draw out such melodious sounds. You nasty little thing, making a man much much older than you use you for his own sexual desires. He makes the effort for his fingernails, have grown in its length, to prick at the sensitive skin of your cunt. You squeal at the pressure, calling out his first name for the first time. “Satoru!”

“There y’go,” he coos. “You’re finally obeying me.”

A slight pinch to your clit that has you jumping before his long and slender fingers dip inside of your heat. Gojo hums in delight at the warmth that’s inviting him, making him antsy to know what your pussy will feel like wrapped around his length. “Seems like all the girls your generation only know how to be good under one circumstance, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get some more manners into ya.”

Your stool touches the edge of his, invading each other’s spaces as Gojo works his fingers inside of you. They explore you like it’s his first time in a pussy, but also working so expertly, knowing how to elicit a response from you. You’re hunched over into him, your head falling into his chest as his wrinkled fingers gain back its youth. Your slick like a serum of youth, making him feel like a twenty-year-old again. No more is he sweating over the way his white hair’s falling out, the pudge in his stomach, and the way his eyes are losing their life. No, each languid movement of his wrist pulling in and out of you, makes him forget everything as you’re clenching around him.

Your arm draped over his neck, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater, your legs tense up at the coil within your stomach. Your pussy following the rhythm of your heartbeat that alerts Gojo. He hums in delight, the corner of his lips rising up. “Cum for me, alright, my dear? Make this old man feel brand new.”

Your moans are high-pitched and scratchy. Eyes squinting shut, your hold on Gojo tightens as you let yourself go. “F-Fuuuuuuck!” There’s no longer any doubts stirring up in your mind. Far too deep into this, you feel a visceral want and need for Gojo that it’s primal. “Satoru, I need you, please. I need you inside of me.”

And because he’s such a giving man, he says ‘yes.’ “Let’s bring this to somewhere more comfortable, though. My back can’t handle these stools for quite too long.”

Settled on the couch, Gojo’s leaning back into the cushion of the leather seats, arms sprawled on top as his legs are spread out wide. Head leaned all the way back as his chest rises and falls. You’re a devious minx, toying with the band of his pants and palming at his erection. The comment you made earlier in a teasing manner, “Did you have to pop a viagra before I came to get hard?” still residing in his head as you continued your mischief. If you thought your playful nature would get you out of doing all the work was going to sway his mind, you’d be damn wrong. Retired and having nothing better to do with his time, he could stay in this spot all day until you got fed up and bored. 

You’re on your knees, feeling at his erection as your slick sticks in between your inner thighs. Head nestled against one his thighs, you push yourself up as you look up at him from your position. Hooded eyelids that have experienced the world already, but still holding onto some sort of amazement, those blue pupils speak for itself as they coax you closer to his cock. Fingernails pull at the hem, helping him out of the bottoms to reveal the boxer briefs that hug it. Thin veiled, there’s a wet spot of pre sitting right where his tip is when you go to palm it. It has Gojo opening his mouth way too quickly to retort something. 

“Aren’t you—oh.” Cut short, your mouth opens to suck through the fabric, tasting the salted flavor of his precum through the underwear. The friction of it and your tongue rubbing through the barrier, it has his hips rising up as he shudders. “Fuck.”

Gripping at the seat, he feels himself easily breaking when your hand dwindles to cup at his balls. Gojo couldn’t remember when he came prematurely during sex, but it was something he didn’t want to do with you. He could feel himself breaking, and it was coming on fast. “Get up.”

He didn’t know if you didn’t hear him or if it was on purpose, either way, he wouldn’t have for it. Reaching for your head, he nudges rather harshly as he repeats, “Get up.”

Your eyes widen at the harsh tone set, immediately starting to rise. “Did I— Did I do something wrong?”

He grabs ahold of your wrist, pulling you to him in a rush. “Yes, by having me wait too damn long.”

From fear to glee, you oblige his orders, climbing onto his lap as he’s shimmying out of his underwear. Take your dress off. You have done as told, shredding yourself of the material before you’re reaching to pull at him. Freckles litter his skin, making your fingers glide against the expanse of his chest. He’s no longer the well-fitted man he once was. Not something to be marvelled over, he used to believe. However, you stare down at his body with such amazement that leads him to believe differently.

But, you? You. You’re a sight for sore eyes the way your body gleams as the sun trickles in through the windows. With such sheer curtains in place, if people tried hard enough, they’d be able to see you— to see you in such glory that they’d either be amazed or horrified by. Though, he was not going to dwell on it too much. 

“Remember what I said,” he breathes, looking up at you as you straddle his waist. You smile mischeviously as you nod.

“Don’t worry,” you say. “I know your hips don’t work like they used to.”

He chuckles at your compliment, watching as you go to hold his length and align it with your entrance. Your moans and mewls are so sweet as he stretches you out, taking on inch at a time before he’s bottoming out inside you. Gojo pulls you against him, making you rest your head in the crevice of his neck and shoulders when you bring your hips to rise. Only his tip in sheathed inside of you, clenching around it as you fix your posture. 

“You’re not planning on backing out, are you?” he asks once more. 

You shake your head. “Now, why would I?”

“Still a stupid girl, I see.” You bring your hips down, silencing the old man as you set a moderate pace. Shit, he cursed under his breath as you worked yourself against his length. Hands on your waist, he holds you close to him until you’re bringing yourself to sit up straight. You go to caress his face, holding him in between your hands as you bounce on his cock. Your breasts jump up with every motion, slapping sounds intermingling with the claps of your wet pussy against his pelvis. 

This sight in front of you, only makes your lust fester up stronger, wanton moans leaving you out as you pant. “You— You feel so good in me.”

“Yeah?” Gojo pants. “I do?—” You nod “—How good?”

“So, so good.”

“So so good that you wouldn’t let anyone have what’s mine?” he hums, hands traversing up your waist to flick to cup your breasts. “You’d let this old man keep you all to himself?”

“Yeah,” you squeak, nodding your head. “I’m all yours.”

“God damn,” he curses. “I like the sound of that. Say it again. Say that you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you moan, grinding your hips down. “All yours.”

The couch squeaks with every bounce. Gojo’s cock making you feel hazy with want the more your pussy meets the base of his cock. You hold onto his neck as leverage, his aging skin coming to easily bruise with the way your nails pinch into his skin. His hands are transfixed with your breasts, cupping and kneading at the skin as his eyes flicker open and shut. He nudges you closer, mouth open as he uses his touch to find and latch onto your nipple. He tastes the salt of your skin with a deep hum from the depths of his chest, he sucks like a breast-fed baby. Fingers planted around your waist once more, he holds a steady grip as he feels the faint twitch of his cock. 

“Shit,” he mumbles, though it’s incoherent as he’s still suckling on your chest. His breathing becomes heavy as he feels you’re pulsating around his length, your moans more staggered out now.

“Satoru, ‘m g’nna cum,” you alert, thighs clenching together around his waist. He lets go of your breast with a pop, lust-drunken eyes looking up at you. Gripping at your skin, he pulls your waist closer. 

“You’d have my kids, right?” he asks. “Continue my legacy? I know you’re a good girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, brain so foggy with lust that you can only find yourself agreeing with every word he says. “I’m your good girl.”

Hand dipping in between the two of you, he rubs at your clit to quicken up your orgasm. He smiles with a content sigh. “You’re so perfect for me, doll. Know you’ll take my cum so well.”

“Mhmmmm,” you cry, feeling yourself break apart when you feel Gojo spurting inside of you. Three pumps of his cock before he’s finished and you’re following in pursuit. You lose your rhythm, each bounce to your hip becoming more staggered as you feel yourself cream around his length. Your orgasms mixing with each other before you halt all motion altogether. Chests panting as you lay all weight onto Gojo as everything settles in. 

You push yourself to sit up while your senior has his eyes shut. “Did you really only come out to watch me?”

He takes a while to respond, making you think he had fallen asleep. Nudging him, he groans. “Don’t worry, I heard you.”

“So, answer,” you push at his shoulder once more. “Were you really watching me?”

Gojo chuckles and motions for you to get off his lap, struggling to reach down and grab his pants. When you go to help him, he declines the offer. He fixes himself back up, before handing you your dress. “My statement still stands. Your generation is so stupid.”

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note. thank you so much to everyone interested in this series. hopefully, i didn't disappoint you all. let me know what you think in the comments or in tags of your reblogs. illeesum !! <3

Purple Strawberries | Zuko x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Three times Zuko says Y/N isn’t his girlfriend, and one time he doesn’t.

REQUEST (by @elia-the-bibliophile​): “hi there! can I request a Zuko x reader fluff where the best of them are the best of friends and they were just strolling around the fire nation capital market, but someone complimented them on what a handsome couple they make, and then another people ask “Is that your girlfriend? bla bla bla” and so on? thank you!”

WORD COUNT: 3.9k

WARNINGS: I was doing well on not cursing but then I failed. the editing is sloppy at best. there’s a lot of mutual pining. a bit of angst, not much. and jealous!zuko (we stan).

OBSERVATIONS: uhhh you’re gonna see that I really,,, changed the concept lmao!! i hope you don’t mind!! it’s just, i saw the opportunity of making this differently and i took it!! and i actually really like it!! so i hope you like it too!!

anyway, thank you for reading and i hope you like it!! and remember feedback is always appreciated!! here we go

“Zuko, look! They have purple strawberries! That’s crazy!”

The firebender smiled fondly at his best friend while she fussed over the curious berries, babbling with a nice merchant about the science of hybrid produce or something like that. It had been her idea to visit the capital market of the Fire Nation, arguing that the soon-to-be Fire Lord could take a break from his coronation worries and just spend time as a regular person for once. Zuko had a billion things to do and couldn’t waste a second on trivial matters like taking a walk through the market or talking about purple strawberries, yet—

He could never say no to her, regardless of how much it was needed.

Keep reading

Someone New Masterlist

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Permanent Mark Masterlist • Gojo Satoru

When your lover’s past comes back to haunt you, how many times will he choose her over you? When nothing you give was enough to make him stay. Yet, you would still choose him. Everyday.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Status: Completed

Warnings: tragedy, alcohol abuse, self-harm, self-destructive reader, smoking, physical violence, cheating, toxic relationships, manipulation, eventual smut, pregnancy, mentions of abortion…+

Taglist: Closed !!

Playlist

› Part I:Permanent Mark

› Part II: Down

› Part III:Fool

› Part IV: Loose Lips

›Part V:Fear

›Part VI: Mine

›Part VII: Blessings

› Part VIII: Lengths

›Part IX: Mistakes

› Part X: Loss

›Part XI: Epilogue

the season of thorned roses ⸺ a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies

notes from the author: im aashi, and this is my first series on this app :p for anyone who would like to know, this does end with a happy ending. ty for reading!

masterlist | drabble | fanart

01 ⸺ the debutante

you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)

02 ⸺ the aftermath

after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

03 ⸺ the manor

you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

04 ⸺ the game

satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

05 ⸺ the fall (soon!)

Hello spongy! I hope your mojo comes back. 🖤🐈‍⬛

Bakugou Katsuki - wedding ring - sadness or anger- choking 👀

Hopefully this sparks something. I know whatever you write will be wonderful!

Hi Kitten, thank you for your request, it’s helping loads and I’m feeling more optimistic about my writing already x x x

Bare

Rating: 18+ Warnings: Smut, choking, implied infidelity, a bit of angst, intentionally vague. 

It had all been going so well. 

Catching that prick of a villain towards the end of his shift; getting news that he’s on track to move up a few ranks in the next quarterly popularity polls; receiving a phone call from his mom, and not having her breathing down his neck over some stupid shit she wants him to do. 

Life was moving forward. Life was moving on. He was starting to forget. 

Then there’d been a knock at his door, disturbing him from a blessed sleep he hadn’t been able to sink into for weeks now. 

Finding you there. Here. On his doorstep. Mascara leaking down wet cheeks. A hastily packed bag at your feet and the words falling from trembling lips;

“I did it.”

It couldn’t have gone better. 

It was like old times. Colliding into one another like you hadn’t been gone for months; no word or sighting. A blank space in the shape of you that not even a faceless soul could fill. No late night phone calls that last until dawn, or early morning greetings that start with a smirk and a kiss. 

You came and left like a hurricane. Turning his world upside down. Having him craving the next meeting. 

Now it looks like you’re back. 

Be it for good. A week. A day. A night. An hour. 

He’ll take what he can get. Feed into the lie that may or may not be a reality. 

Until he saw it, and the floodgates opened. 

Having you under him. The dent in the mattress recognising your figure and moulding back into a familiar shape. The pillow beneath your head absorbing the scent of your shampoo and perfume, claiming it back into your possession. Satiating him for the nights without you. The slats of the headboard remember the way you gripped them, hung on, nails scratching and palms itching, leaning behind groves that he could trace and hold, reliving your last moments before you had to dress and step back into the world you had without him. 

Your back is soft against his chest, fitting perfectly into the crevasses, spine curved, hips raised between his thighs, rocking gently, meeting him like waves ebbing and flowing over a cool, moonlit beach. 

You’re anything but; you burn like the sun, skin kissed by fire, spreading your warmth and melting the cage he’s so diligently erected around himself since you’d last been here. 

Just like this. With him. 

The bars are buckling, warping, setting him free, only to be locked in a different kind of prison. 

It’s when he turns his head, just slightly away from the angle of your jaw to catch a breath, and the gold glint catches the light like an imploding star, does the heat turn icy. Those lapping waves are no longer welcoming and inviting, but tumultuous as they crash, ripped by outcroppings of rocks and debris, pushing, preventing, blocking, reminding him of the ties you have outside of him. 

You’ve always held him at a distance, and he’d appreciated it. Helped steel himself, keeping his head above water so as not to drown and become consumed by your pull. 

Didn’t stop the fall though. Let himself be weak for one moment and let you crawl inside his chest to nest. Plague his dreams, while you sleep soundly. 

He wants you to feel the choking want of longing and the need to inflict pain on the source. Throttle it with disgust and fury until it consumes itself and dies. 

Let him be. Let him live. 

The hand that had been cradling your breast slips from the flesh, to come up and around, fingers clawing as they settle and dig, tendons contracting around a vibrating throat. Moans stalled as you feel the change within him.  

“Take it off,” Katsuki bites through gritted teeth. 

You're so still he thinks you die a little death. Not the euphoric kind. This is the type that is dread, all consuming, has the hair on the back of your neck prickling. 

He can feel them. Soft yet sharp, drenched in sweat, a dusky aroma thickening and seeping into his open pores as they fight to rise up beneath his clawed hand, squeezing against a pulse that’s stopped its beating. 

The whites of your eyes have never been brighter, and the deep pits of your pupils never bigger. Your profile hurts to look at, which is why he’d taken you like he had, mounted you like a jungle cat, pressed your face into the sheets, fooled himself into thinking that he can pretend you’re someone else should you walk out once again. 

Never have to gaze upon the split affection you have warring within them whenever you have doubts. 

Katsuki doesn’t like to share. But for you he had. Let this charade commence until you finally gave in to the winning side.

You win some, you lose some. He just didn’t think he’d have been left in limbo for so long. Alone without a word or look, no indication whether your time together had an effect, tipping the scales in his favour. It has always been balanced. Equal. And it aggravated him that he’d found his match to a person with no image. 

If you’re truthful this time, if you’ve done as you’ve said, there’ll be no hesitation, it will be as involuntary as blinking. As effortless as a heartbeat. 

Your breath bursts, the inhale ragged. 

His fingers tighten around a string, slick and coarse. Lax and taut, until there’s nowhere else for it to go. 

And your hips don’t stop, canting an undulating rhythm that almost knocks his resolve back into the gutter. He keeps still though, doesn’t give an inch, even if his will slowly depletes and the urge to grind back becomes a battle he might just let himself lose. 

Your eyes rolling upward as you look at him from the corner of your eye, his nose pressing into your cheek, jaw clenching to keep the need at bay. 

He’s not playing this time, he means it as his forehead digs into your temple, hand closing marginally when you tilt your head back and he feels slack, your eyelashes fluttering along with a gasp. 

Trapping your left wrist against the mattress, he struggles for a moment, prying open your fisted fingers and finding the offending item. 

You’re enjoying this, he finds. Watching as you eye his every movement; bask in the precarious position he has you in. Letting him have the upper hand when really you know you’ve had him where you want him from the very beginning. Drawing him in and pushing him away as frequently as the wind blows.  

He sees it. The pleasure you get when you witness the ugliness of his jealousy rearing its head, fighting a perceived threat that’s no longer there. 

But it will always be here, taunting him until it’s gone for good. 

“Take. It. Off.”

You moan in reply, a whimper for a reprieve. 

Despite the heat radiating between you both, the band is cold, a last reminder of the wedge that keeps - kept - you apart. 

It doesn’t give so easily, like it’s holding on and maintaining that distance he is - was - never allowed to cross. Reminding him of who was here first. 

As it passes the first knuckle, you buck, and Katsuki answers with a thrust, pinning you until you can’t retaliate, except for a frustrated, wheezing moan, and a squeeze of your walls around his cock, a salty tear captured by his lips, sliding beneath his tongue as he bares his teeth with a rumbling growl. 

Effortlessly, it glides past the second, and he has it. 

It isn’t yours anymore. 

And it won’t be ever again. Soon it will be a distant memory Katsuki will erase along with the name that went along with it. 

The metal melts in his palm as he clasps the ring, twisting and distorting into a congealed mass, his eyes burning brightly along with the rage he’s been keeping under loose wraps. Glowing orange like a setting sun, or the dawning of a new morning. 

You whimper, strangled and desperate, until Katsuki moves again. 

Thrust. Thrust. Roll. Gold-coated palm singeing the flesh of your lower back, and sizzling the sweat pooled in the dip of your spine when he presses down to arch you further, pulling back your head by the grip he still has around your throat so you can watch him, raising up and gaining an angle that lets him get deeper, reach a place no one has - and never will - reach again. 

Except for him. 

You're his now. 

And that finger won’t stay bare for long.