Hi Hello Can Anyone Write A Fanfic About My Mihya Aka Michael Kaiser Based Off The Song: Dress By Taylor

hi hello can anyone write a fanfic about my mihya aka michael kaiser based off the song: dress by taylor swift please please please 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻 (it can be fluff smut idc i just need someone to feed me with this)

✩ — 4:21am

summary: gojo satoru is a man of his word, and no matter what, he always promised to come home to you.

cw: minor angst, fluffy ending (I PROMISE) this is for all you sad hojoes out there that just want your man home all in one piece.

gojo satoru is a man of his word, and no matter what, he always promised to come home to you. you didn't actually think much of it, until one night, you awake in panic feeling that something's off. you are used to falling asleep as you wait for gojo to come home, but when you check the time and realise that it was later than usual, anxiety gnawed at your heart.

the clock on the bedside table mocks you with its relentless ticking. each passing second only intensifies your unease. you reach for your phone and check for messages or missed calls, but there's nothing. gojo hasn't contacted you since the last heated argument you had before he left for his mission. it's been hours since then.

you can’t even remember what you fought about, it was something trivial, him forgetting to put the milk back in the fridge, or not putting down the toilet seat—it was dumb. it hurts you even more now that the things you were just berating him for a few hours ago, you were begging for him to come back and do one more time.

fighting back the growing panic, you try calling him. his phone rings, but there's no answer. of course there wouldn’t be you knew that he doesn’t use his phone when he was out, but you just had to try, hoping that he’d sent a quick text to say he was just around the corner—but there was nothing.

you couldn’t help but conjure up terrifying scenarios about him. what if he’s injured? what if he’s been chopped up into little pieces and he’s in pain? wanting to call you and he can’t.

you can't stay still any longer, pacing back and forth in your dimly lit apartment. your thoughts are a jumbled mess, and you can't shake the feeling that something terrible has happened. the world outside is quiet, and the darkness feels suffocating. 

your mind wanders to the first time you met him, he was persistent immediately when he first laid eyes on you, claiming that he would stop at nothing to get to be with you. and that was true. you wouldn’t give him the time of day, at first, but whenever you were around him doing your ‘hard to get routine,’ he put in extra effort just to get with you.

there wasn’t anyone you could even ask to see if he was okay, since if he wasn’t, who else would be? and there’s a part of you that wouldn’t even want to know, you had to see him, alive and well for all your worries to be gone.

as the minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity, you cling to thoughts of him, each memory acting as a lifeline. there wasn’t even any indication that something bad happened to him, but there is something unsettling that you just couldn’t shake.

you could feel him before you could even hear the faint tapping at the door. there isn’t any hesitation as you bolt to the door, dragging a weak standing gojo into a tight hug only pulling away as you hear him softly wince at your heavy touch.

“sorry,” he murmurs, standing with his arm clutching at his lower stomach, slightly hunched over, “i lost my keys.”

“you lost your keys?” you practically yell, “that’s what you wanna focus on right now?” you ask as you look at his injured body. this is the worst you’ve ever seen him, and you could tell that he was in pain from the way his usual breezy smile, isn’t reaching his eyes like it normally does.

you quickly usher gojo inside, supporting him as he limps toward the couch. the dim living room lights reveals a deep gash on his face, and his clothes are torn and stained with dirt and blood. 

“take off your shirt,” you order, your face filled with concern as you try and properly assess all his injuries.

“aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” he jokes, cringing as you remove his shirt from over his head, trying not to hurt him further.

“this isn’t the time for jokes ‘toru,” you chastise, shaking your head to prevent yourself from getting emotional, “y’know i really thought that—” you sigh, not even wanting to utter the words, since it doesn’t matter as he’s here now, alive.

“i can’t even lie,” he starts, his eyes staring down, avoiding yours. “for a moment out there, i didn’t know if i could live up to my promise to you.” you couldn’t even respond, the fact that gojo could even admit that there was a chance that he wasn’t gonna get back to you, had you panicked.

“c’mere,” he says pulling your into his lap, noticing the stressed expression that has yet to leave your face.

you were quick to jump off of him, but he kept you firm in his hold, his arms wrapped protectively around you. despite the pain he must have been in, his eyes held a mixture of relief and vulnerability as he looked into yours. “satoru you’re hurt.”

but he gave you a reassuring smile, one that couldn't quite hide the pain etched on his face. "i'm okay, really," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “i just need you close right now."

as you settled back into his embrace, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, reassuring you that he was indeed alive and home with you, where he had always promised to be.

AN: SO GUYS HOW DID I DO? im not really a drabble or fluffy girlie, as you guys know. but um tada... this is for you all. love ya. If there’s mistakes in there it’s 6am so ignore em please IF THIS IS SHIT THEN IM SORRY I TRIED. But as long as one gojo lover says “emp you’ve mended my little heart” I can die happy

Criminal

thigh lvr scara !!

── ୨୧：sub!reader x dom!scaramouche

୨୧﹑synopsis :; scaramouche loves your thighs sm, he can’t restrain himself so he fucks them!

୨୧﹑genre :; smut, nsfw

୨୧﹑content :; fem!reader, established relationship, thighjob/thighfucking, pussyjob(?), rlly short, soft!scara, kinda ooc—i didn’t know how to make him mean, reader calls scara kuni

scaramouche’s hands push your legs together, letting his cock slip in between the space, rubbing up and down your soaking folds.

you whimper, lashes crystalline with tears and cheeks a burning hot red. you can feel the tip lightly graze against your clit, but it’s not enough.

he begins to move, starting to slowly thrust back and forth between the small room. he loves it, his eyes intently watching how his length disappears behind your thighs, only to re-emerge with a thin layer of your slick on the underside, spreading it to the inside of your thighs.

it’s a sticky mess, one that’d be a struggle to clean up, but it’s worth it.

as he fucks into your thighs, the long drag of his cock against your cunt makes your hips instinctively grind up to meet his. scaramouche’s pelvis roughly slammed into the back of your thighs, making you moan out incoherent sounds of pure pleasure.

“fuck, kuni—!” your broken voice gasps out, back arching and legs making an effort to close, which only squeezes his dick impossibly tighter.

“keep doing that.” scaramouche sighs out through gritted teeth, leaning down to plant kisses on each of your cheeks. your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back as hot tears pearl down your temples. your head is thrown back, giving him just enough access to your neck.

his lips move down to your jaw, then your neck. his face nuzzles into the crook, inhaling your scent as it intoxicated his mind like an extremely potent opioid.

you’re a whimpering, whining mess. your mouth is consistently spilling noises of ecstasy, thighs trembling as they’re constantly slammed into.

your hand come to his hair, bunching up the strands in hopes to stabilise yourself, gaining some form of connection to reality. your free hand goes to the pillows, hooking under them and adjusting them so they actually support your head and neck.

with this, you’re able to finally get a decent view of what he’s doing; you can see his cock pumping in between your thighs, and it’s enough to make your pulse speed up and your cunt throb with need.

the pressure cord in your core tightens each time his tip comes into contact with your clit, rubbing it in just the right way. back arching into him, the lewd slapping of skin against skin makes you fold.

“awh, kuni—”

the way you moans his name makes his hips stutter, a groan leaving his throat.

“y’gonna cum just by my cock rubbing against your pretty pussy, hm? go on then,” he collects a wad of saliva in his mouth, spitting onto your thigh and watching it roll down. “cum for me.”

before you knew it, the feeling of your orgasm was ripping you in two. your mind was frazzled, the only thoughts in your dazed mind was the pounding against your clit. as you came down from your high, the pleasure-pain of overstimulation soon hits your limp body.

luckily, it’s not too long before scaramouche pulls away, spreading your worn out legs with one hand and pumps his slicked length with his other. he cums, his release coating the inside of your thighs and your folds.

it’s truly a sight; your tousled hair is all sprawled out on the pillow underneath you, chest heaving with staggering breaths and most importantly, your thighs, all covered with a sultry mess of your fluids and his.

“you held up really well for me,” scaramouche praises, crawling down and pressing a kiss just on your hips.

“now let me clean you up.”

©2023 kvronushi do not copy, plagiarise, or translate my work.

mom i want him so bad

i-

My beloved 🤍