Desthevirgo - Destiny - Tumblr Blog

Gojo x Deadpool 😫😫😫

Art by: akutawah

𓍢 ִ 𖥔 ࣪˖ black, dolly, and sexy

#meandmypenagainsttheworld

!!

i’d give this man the sloppiest head

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

If ao3 ever allowed comments for every paragraph like wattpad does, I would methodically, indisputably, unrepentantly lose my shit.

🧑‍🚒🔥

GOJO THEE STALLION

I’m simultaneously the most obsessive most detached girl in the world

♍️😇

virgo season

Ion even write fics, but if u out here like an ugly bitter bitch labeling shit bc u mad, bored, jealous, or feel uppity bout smut fics or black writers or whatever, I hope u choke on air and fall over and die fr, ion give a fuck. folks out here working hard on fics that anybody can label with one hand and have their thumb up their ass with the other and I’m pissed bout it fr!

tired of seeing all of my favorite fic writers leaving bc the shit they worked hard on, for free, that’s properly warned, is getting flagged and for what

If u flag fics, fuck u!

so excited for this seriesss!

Lost and Found

Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Prologue

Chapter 1

…..

It was raining. Pouring, actually.

Eren sat in the driver's seat of his overpriced luxury car, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The rain seemed to wash away the long road, ridding it of its dirt. If only it could do the same with his life.

He had been on the road for hours, driving through the night, trying to get to his hometown. The hometown he’d left behind and never looked back. Not until now.

He hadn't been back in seven years. Seven long years, although, they might as well have been just a moment in time, because he couldn’t remember much of them. What he could remember, was leaving his heart behind to pursue his dream of becoming something he thought was his destiny.

At the time, he had been so sure of himself, so convinced that he was making the right choice. Music was always his passion, ever since he could hold a guitar and a pen and write words on paper. Spending years writing songs with the dream of one day sharing them with the world, being offered a chance to tour the country with a band he had idolized since he was a teenager was more than he could’ve ever asked for. It had been a dream come true, and he had jumped at the chance.

He’d thought that he was living the dream, but now he realized that he’d been fooling himself. He’d been running away from something, trying to fill the big hole inside his heart when he’d left the most precious thing to him behind.

As he drove closer to his destination, his heart began to race with anticipation and fear. What if what he’d been dreaming about for the last few years was just an illusion that was inevitably going to crash into pieces? What if no one wanted him there? What if.. what if he’d been forgotten?

But despite his fears, he knew that he had to try. He had to face the consequences of his actions, no matter how painful they might be. No matter how much time had passed.. He had to try to fix things.

And so, as he saw the road sign for his hometown in the distance, he took a deep breath and felt a flicker of hope in his heart. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to make things right.

I’m home, Y/N.

…..

A/N: Sooo.. what do we think? I’m obsessed with this idea and came back from hiding because my muse has finally returned with it. I truly hope there’s interest in this story because I truly, truly adore it. It’s going to be multichaptered, maybe about 10 chapters? Not sure yet, but it’s not going to be too long. I can make a tag list, too. Reblogs are deeply appreciated. Bye for now, muah🫶🏻

this woke something in me…

fboy!eren | patreon

#DTN😤😭

Beautiful Disaster (8)

← Chapter 7 • series masterlist • Chapter 9 →

8 | Tattoos

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

making a life decision with Satoru and the start of Winter break doesn't go as planned

words: 3.6k

cw: stupid decsions, jealousy

an: anyone who knows me knows I love to write a few chapters ahead to make sure I keep the storyline straight but I've been feeling pretty burned out lately.. hopefully it goes away soon. anyway, this is the last chapter I had written ahead on. hope you enjoy!

Taglist • Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

December 2011

Your legs are draped over Satoru’s hips, his legs wrapped around your waist. He’s holding you close with one hand cupping your jaw, the other tangled in your hair.

Satoru’s blindfolded with little white bandages you found in his room, ones he sometimes wraps his hands in when getting ready for a fight. Despite his eyes being covered, you can tell his brows are knitted together, concentrating on the movement of your hand squeezing the tip of his cock the way you’ve learned he likes.

“Fuck, your hand is soft,” he moans before feverishly kissing you.

You smile, lips ghosting one another, breaths mingling as you drag your hand slowly up and down his smooth cock, “mm, soft is good?”

You know the answer, but it doesn’t stop you from asking. Not when you get to hear those little breathy moans he lets slip past his lips before answering.

“Y-yes, soft is good, mm, so good,” you’re teasing him the same way he teases you. It’s almost like a form of torture, how you won’t go any faster, won’t squeeze any harder.

You plant your lips on his tenderly, almost lazily, listening to the content sigh that slips out before he groans in annoyance, “Stop fuckin’ teasing me.”

A smile spreads across your lips as you giggle, letting go of his hard length to run your hands up his sinewy abdominals and chest while he rips the bandage off just enough to show one of his crystalline eyes.

“Ha- you bitch, see how you like it,” He’s grinning, pushing you back on the bed, using one hand to hold your wrists over your head, the other to roll a condom down his length before pushing into you.

He moves with slow, teasing strokes but he’s kissing you sweetly as your back arches, pressing your soft tits against his chest.

The two of you mostly spend your weekends with each other, locked away in his room out of sight from everyone else.

Satoru would be mortified if his friends ever found out how intimate and softer he is with you alone. How you’ve spent more of the days just being with each other, talking and listening than fucking.

There’s been plenty of that too, conversation turning into kissing, turning into him fucking you senseless and then telling you how good you did for him.

It’s mindless and self-indulgent with each other.

He’s learning how good it can be with a partner who is only with him. Someone who’s learning his pace and can keep up with him, match the thrusts of his hips and the tempo he sets to make it better for you both.

You’ve learned the way he likes a lot of things too, both to his enjoyment and annoyance because you take too much pleasure in teasing him about it.

Satoru likes to experiment, open to trying virtually anything. He’d be embarrassed if his friends ever found out about how much he complains about you teasing him but doesn’t do anything to stop it, or the way he moans and whimpers when you ride just the tip in short teasing bursts.

You spend a lot of time just touching each other, exploring each other’s bodies - not always sexually. You’ll find yourself on his bed, legs wrapped around his waist while his are splayed out in front of him. Fingertips ghost over each other’s skin, leaving goosebumps behind, finding each other’s ticklish spots, which areas make you smile and giggle and which make you blush.

Satoru likes to see you in any and every position he can come up with; ropes, restraints, toys, nothing is off-limits with him. And he’s just as open to trying anything you want as well, which is how he ended up blindfolded with you teasing him before fucking into you.

“What’s your family like?” It’s a whisper, you’re laying on your sides facing each other, his arm lazily draped around your waist, the other folded under his head to use as a pillow.

He shrugs while taking a deep breath, “My dad’s always gone for work, never really been around a lot, Mom’s all about image and how our family is portrayed.”

You hum and nod, running your hands along his torso gently as he tells you about his dad’s law firm, and how he’s expected to take over the family business one day.

He’ll make a great lawyer one day, there’s no doubt about that. But with how he’s able to help tutor Yuji and taught you how to surf in a matter of a few hours, he’d also make a great teacher.

You told him as much and he just laughed, said he wasn’t sure if he’d be as great as you think with how nontraditional he likes to do things - you think it’ll just make him that much better.

He asks about yours and you tell him things are complicated with your mom. How the two of you aren’t particularly close and you’re not looking forward to spending the next two weeks at home with her during Winter break.

“We’ll hang out,” he promises, playing with your hand, and kissing your forehead before sitting up, “can’t let you forget how much you like me.”

You laugh, sitting up to put on the simple black dress you plan to wear tonight, “you wanna keep me?”

He gives a small, wistful smile as he throws on a tight black shirt with tan baggy pants that has a black belt weaved through the waist, getting ready for the fight he has tonight.

“Wanna do something crazy?” He asks after you’ve gotten dressed, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into him.

You narrow your eyes at him, “Define crazy.”

He smirks, grabbing your hand, and leading you out of his bedroom and down the stairs to the living room. There’s music playing, not as loud as usual since partygoers are just starting to arrive, and most are going to head downstairs to the basement, getting ready to watch the fights.

You’re not sure who Satoru is fighting tonight, not that it really matters. You’ve seen him fight plenty of times to know he’s going to win with ease.

“Let’s give each other tattoos.”

Your eyes widen, letting out a soft laugh, “Are you serious?”

“I said something crazy, didn’t I?”

Choso had been over the night before to hang out, much to Satoru’s irritation. It’s something Choso and Suguru do for fun from time to time, they had purchased a tattoo kit and will do simple, small designs if someone asks them.

Satoru doesn’t say it, but you can tell by his actions he doesn’t like Choso by the way he’s more handsy when Choso’s around, pulls you in closer to him, and has you sit on his lap while you’re talking to him.

“I… don’t know about this.” You’re biting your lip in hesitation. If your mom found out about it, there’s a good chance she would have a conniption fit. Who’s to say what she would do, could be something like a little yelling or she could take it as far as no longer paying for your housing.

“Come on,” he whispers in your ear, wrapping his arms around your waist, “Something small for just the two of us.”

You take a moment to think about it, but you know you’ll give in. You’ll follow him anywhere, he’s crazy sometimes, but that’s all part of his charm, what’s drawn you closer to him.

“Fine, okay. Where should we-”

“Ring fingers.” You stare at him bewildered and shocked he would make that suggestion of all places. You were thinking maybe ankle or hip, “Cause you’re the only one I want.”

“What if we break up? Satoru, we haven’t been together very long.”

“I mean, yeah that would suck but I don’t want to break up, so it’s fine!” 

Satoru gives a devilish grin, sitting down and fidgeting with the ink and tattoo gun, “do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Nope!”

“Great, so we’re also going to get hepatitis.”

“Probably!”

“God, you’re insane you know that?” But you’re smiling, laughing, and watching as Suguru makes his way over, tearing the machine out of Satoru’s hands.

It takes a little convincing on Satoru’s end but he convinces Suguru to do your tattoos. Suguru ends up looking at you several times, really questioning if this is what you want, but you agree to it.

Satoru draws out the same little infinity symbols he did on your first date, giving them to Suguru who does his due diligence in placing the design on the inside of your fingers.

You go first, more hesitant than Satoru to get this done. There’s not a doubt in your mind he’ll go through with it, especially if you do. You take yours better than he does, hissing a few times compared to the absolute whimpers he lets slip at the slight stinging feeling.

He jokes that you’re tougher than he is and that you should probably be the one going into the fight tonight instead of him.

When Suguru’s done, and everything is cleaned up you can’t help but laugh, running your hands over your face while sitting on the coffee table across from Satoru, “Oh my god, this was such a bad fucking idea.”

Satoru stares at you with a grin, looking at you like he absolutely adores you before placing his hand on both sides of your face and pressing his soft lips on yours. He swipes his tongue over your lips once and you open, letting him explore your mouth while simultaneously moving over to straddle his hips.

You stay like this for a while, your hands tangled into his hair with his holding your face until it’s time for him to head downstairs for the fights.

The sounds of a jaw cracking and fists making contact with sweaty skin are barely audible over the roars of the crowd that’s gathered in the basement of the house.

Satoru is fighting some freshmen who asked for this fight, apparently, Satoru had picked on the poor kid in one of their classes together enough to piss the kid off.

It’s easy for Satoru, he’s barely breaking a sweat as he dips and dodges each of the punches the kid throws, blocks any leg kicks that come his way with his forearm or his own legs. He’s laughing hysterically, teasing the kid for no other reason than to piss him off more.

You watch off to the side, next to Shoko, in your usual spot. You’re not being pushed and prodded at like you have been when watching these fights in the past. The crowd’s less full tonight than usual due to so many people having already left for Winter break.

“Quit being a pussy and fight me!” The kid spits, trying to catch his breath.

“You know what, you’re so right,” Satoru laughs, hands flung to the side, “this is boring anyway.”

You can tell Satoru pulled his punch, with the way his fist connected with the kid's jaw and how he stumbled back, several people in the crowd catching him. He’s still conscious, which is evidence enough of Satoru’s holding back.

The small horde cheers before beginning to file out of the basement. Some help the kid Satoru just beat while others stop to pat his back. Meanwhile, Satoru easily strides over to you with a smile, pressing his lips to yours and wrapping his arm around your waist.

His undercut is slightly wet from sweat, and you can taste a hint of saltiness when he slides his tongue into your mouth, pressing it against yours. You smile into the kiss, chest arched into him as he walks you back until you're pressed against a table.

Satoru lifts you, setting you on the table, licking a strip from your neck to your jaw before nuzzling his nose into yours.

His pupils are dilated from the adrenaline of fighting, and probably from the pill you shared before the fights began. He took one half, and you took the other, just enough to feel the effects and have a good time but not have a horrible hangover the next day when you’re expected to go home.

Satoru offered to drive you to back Kyoto, but you told him it was okay, promising you’ll see him over break. It’s easy enough to go by bullet train, and it would save him several hours of driving if he just heads back to his house. 

Satoru slips his hands over the fabric of your dress. His hands squeeze your breasts. He’s moving the straps off your shoulder when you hear loud footsteps coming from the stairs followed by a series of giggles. The two of you both press your foreheads together and take a breather.

“Shit, sorry man,” You hear the gruff voice of your professor, Toji, before turning your head to see him and the girl he’s clearly looking to have a good time with. The same one who sits in the front row of your World History class each week, always wearing something yellow.

Tonight it’s a pale yellow dress, one that likely provides easy access.

“We thought we’d be alone down here since everyone’s looking for Gojo upstairs.” The girl giggles, hanging onto your professor's arm.

Satoru glares at them, before nodding his head, signaling for them to leave. They take the hint pretty easily, and as soon as they head back up the stairs, Satoru’s lips are back on your neck.

“Are those two, like, together?” You ask curiously, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His reply is muffled against your neck, “Yeah, but they have to keep it quiet since he could get fired.”

“Mm. Not sure if a party full of students is the best play for them to be sneaking around.”

Satoru pulls away, beautiful crystal eyes flickering between yours, “Yeah, shockingly I don't want to talk about them right now. Your mouth can be used for something so much better.”

“Don't be gross,” You playfully smack his chest causing his lower lip to protrude in a pout before a Cheshire grin takes over.

His hands delicately and slowly move up your thighs and you spread them automatically, letting him run his fingers over the top of your panties.

There’s a jolt of electricity that shoots to the apex of your thighs each time he presses his thumb lightly to your clit, causing your breath to hitch. He smiles when he feels the pool of slick forming in the center of your panties just from his light touches.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve had each other, it’s never enough, always wanting to be by each other's side, near one another any chance you get.

Satoru leans you down on the table, about to flip your dress up to expose your glistening pussy to him, but the familiar sound of someone else coming down the stairs can be heard.

You can’t see her, but you can clearly hear her melodic voice and it makes you roll your eyes, “Satoru, where are you?”

He groans, tilting his head back in annoyance, “I’m a little preoccupied.”

“Kind of tacky to be fucking in a dirty basement, don’t you think?”

You sit up on your elbows, glaring at Mei who refuses to look in your direction, keeping her feline-like eyes on Satoru as he rolls his eyes, “Seemed pretty okay with it when it was you on this table. What do you want?”

Ice runs through your veins at his comment.

You’ve always known there’s always a possibility that whatever random place he wants to fuck, in the house or outside, he’s probably had someone else there too, that Mei has likely been in the same positions as you.

But it was easy to push that thought aside when you’re in the moment; when he’s making you feel pleasure in ways you never knew were possible before him. 

“People are getting rowdy looking for you. It’s probably time for you to head upstairs.”

She doesn’t turn on her heel and walk away. Instead, she stands with hands folded over her chest, tapping her heel on the cement waiting for Satoru to help you up and adjust your dress.

You look at Satoru with pleading eyes, wanting him to finish what he’s started, wanting him to choose you over Mei who obviously came down to purposely ruin your moment together, but he just chuckles and tucks a few strands of hair behind your ear, “we can finish later. I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

You pout, “Easy for you to say when you’re not the one being edged.”

A victorious smirk spreads across Mei’s lips as she heads up the stairs with you and Satoru following suit.

It’s a week into your Winter break and you haven’t seen or really heard from Satoru. Not since the night you got your matching tattoos.

You’ve tried calling or texting him several times, but you’ve been met with silence each time.

There was one night, a few days ago where he tried calling, but you had missed it. You and your mother had been arguing, and you left the house to get away for a while but forgot to grab your phone when you hurried out the door.

He didn’t send a text, didn’t even leave a voicemail, and since then, it’s been silent again.

It’s frustrating, but it’s also the holidays, so you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Today, your mom has made you come to Tokyo with her to go shopping. The streets are packed and filled with Christmas decorations, and the trees have fairy lights wrapped around the base of the trunks up through each of the branches.

Couples are walking around hand in hand, and happy families shopping together. The streets are loud with conversation, kids running around in excitement for their time out in public.

It’s really quite pretty and you find yourself wishing you were able to experience this with Satoru rather than your mother who is chattering away about something. You’re not entirely sure what she’s on about since you haven’t been listening.

Since your stint of walking out of the house the other day, she’s forced you to come to Tokyo with her for quality time. Which is just more of an opportunity to have you alone, and talk about how great her boyfriend is.

All of this talk about her relationship and seeing happy couples out on the streets has you missing and pining for Satoru. Not that you’ve bothered to mention him to her, for several reasons.

She’ll want to meet him, of course. And last time you brought a boyfriend home to meet your mother, it didn’t exactly work out in your favor, and you’d much rather try to avoid that again this time, if at all possible.

“Can you at least try to look like you’re having a good time?” Your mother says, walking a few steps ahead of you, head turned to look at you through the corner of her eyes, annoyance etched into her features.

You groan and roll your eyes while following her into a pastry shop. The overhead bell dings when you walk in and the aroma of little baked goods immediately fills your senses.

Satoru would love this place, you’re sure. With the dim lighting, a few small tables for two, and adorable little cakes and pastries in the display case.

It’s shockingly not very packed in this petite shop, only a few customers ahead of you, so when you get to the front, you take your time looking at all of the wonderful desserts. There are little cakes shaped like cats, macarons, and mochi balls.

Before ordering a few for yourself, you take out your phone and snap a few pictures, planning on sending them to Satoru later when you get home. You hope you’ll be able to give him a couple before they go bad.

When you make your way out of the shop, a paper bag filled with pastries in hand, a wide smile spreads across your face, because across the street, just outside of a few clothing shops is Satoru in a light jacket, dark scarf around his neck.

He’s standing next to a couple who could only be his parents; his father, just as tall and lanky as he is, with salt and pepper hair and a black peacoat. His mother’s hair is just as stark white as his, styled perfectly with a cream-colored coat.

And out of the shop he’s standing next to, you can swear you can hear the loud, boisterous laugh coming from the head of straight silver hair that walks out despite all of the chatter on the street.

She’s holding several bags, handing them to Satoru who accepts them without question.

Your stomach falls, and an acidic taste fills your throat while tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

Satoru is out shopping with his parents, whom you haven’t really gotten him to talk about, aside from here and there, let alone had the opportunity to meet.

Yet here she is. Someone he claims to only be his friend, despite their past romantic relationship, someone he’s quelled your worry for on multiple occasions, only to find he’s been lying this entire time.

“Can you hurry up?” Your mother's voice is fuzzy, distorted until you snap out of your trance, watching Satoru, “There are other stores I want to go to.”

“Go alone. I’m heading home, I don’t feel well.”

@petalsrdead @sugurunicorn @niki-sun @lilith412426 @sofiaconlaz @lxvephxbic @kash2 @violetsapplejuice @iam-mia9 @laylasbunbunny @creolequeen11210 @xiaosie @lem-hhn @s-witch-bitch @yogurttea @slut-jr @watyousayin @desthedemon @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @abba-simp @myabae @hvziers @etherealkakashi @arminsgfloll @whats-humanity-lol @saiewithakatana @kiyomeichann

🥹🥹

Kruger and Vixen

Pairing: Spy!Eren Jaeger x Thief!reader

Synopsis: Having a love-hate relationship is fun until Eren messes it up, driving you away.

Warning: Guns, mentions of violence, angst, threatening behavior, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 7077

“Pizza’s here.”  Eren mumbles, looking past the newspaper in his hands.  “I can’t quite tell if it’s pepperoni.”  He folds the paper and places it on the bench in which he is currently sitting on.  “I’ll go see for myself.”

Casually, Eren stands to do a small stretch and heads across the street to the museum.

“It’s a little chilly tonight, isn’t it?”

“Ah, no worries, Coconut head.  I wore extra layers.”  Eren grins at nobody in specific, patting his particularly hard abdomen, as he slips in an alleyway.

“Avatar Aang left you a snack.”

Eren knelt and dug through a garbage bag to see a Glock, groaning when he doesn’t see anything more.

“Where’s the hot sauce?”

“You are to ask some from the pizza guy.”

Eren scoffs, hopping on top of the garbage bins with ease after securing the Glock in his belt holster.  “I doubt he’ll give it so willingly.”

He easily lifts himself up to uncover the vents. The dusty, grimy, cramped vents.

“You should head straight, turn left, and then take another left, you’ll find the pizza guy and his customers soon enough.”

Eren groans, the small vent was not really made for a man with his build, not to mention the thick dust that could give him asthma any moment now.  “Alright, I want radio silence until then.”

“Have fun.”

Keep reading

An Afternoon With Eren Jaeger

summary: spending an afternoon with eren after class until he eats you out in his dorm. smut, praise kink, submissive reader, sorta toxic, smoking

pairing: eren x female reader

wc: 1.5k

—

You wonder if this boy beside you is a good presence in your life but you walk with him anyways. He leads you to places you’ve never seen before, touching you in ways you’ve never been touched. Every lie is dressed with somber eyes that pull you in deep. You watch his lips as he speaks of a man he isn’t.

But you don’t care, because afternoons are empty without him. You’ll finish class and wander around the campus afraid to admit that you’re searching for each other. Eventually he finds you, like he always does—you take his hand and let him guide you through the day.

He doesn’t talk much unless you two are alone, he holds your hand like it were a relaxant. Silence. You like his smokey scent, like a warm fire you could never touch. You don’t ask where he’s going, ever. It was as if he’d end up at the same places regardless of your company. Today was the seaside, he’d led you up a short trail to overlook the horizon. Late spring breeze nipping at the rips in your jeans. You sit on the rocks together.

“I like your hair like this,” he says without a glance, attending his blunt. He lights it with ease, sighing smoke.

You almost didn’t respond. “Thanks...”

“You should wear it like that more often.”

“Not for you.”

Eren laughs. “Not for me then who?”

“Myself.”

He claps slowly, mocking you. “How noble.”

You roll your eyes and gaze out into the horizon. In that silence, Eren speaks again. “Come here,” he says. Less of a question and more a command. He’s testing you. The boy knows you can’t hold out for long until his tongue is in your mouth and he’s groping your favorite spots.

You slowly move into him, hearing the mockery in his voice. “Good girl.”

Eren wraps his arms around you. You feel the ashes on his hoodie. With the blunt between two fingers, he moves his hand towards your mouth and you part your lips. A sinister smirk adorns his face at how easily you respond to him.

You take a drag and blow the smoke back at him. Eren snickers. A long stillness passes through the conversation and you watch the smoke fade.

“Do you hate me?” he asks.

“I don’t have a right to,” you say.

“You wanna explain that?”

“I’m not yours. I choose to hang out with you.”

Eren scoffs a little, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your arm. “Why do you hang around with me?”

You look up at him. “I could ask you the same.”

Eren makes eye contact, brown locks fanning in the wind. He places a hand on your chin and tilts your head closer. “Well for starters, I like doing this,” he says, planting a soft kiss against your lips.

“And this,” he continues, running a feel up your shirt. “And I know you like it too,” he whispers.

You gulp, wondering where your pride has gone. He’s bad for you, you know that… But you can’t help it.

“Can we do more…” you murmur before realizing what had just left your mouth.

“Are asking me to fuck you? Y/n?” he says bluntly.

Your skin heats up, heart thumping. You notice how close your bodies are right now. You feel his pulse… the stiffness below his lap.

“That’s not what I—forget I said that, I’m just high,” you explain.

He tilts your head up again. “Look at me.”

Your eyes widen.

“Don’t pull that shy shit. You want me to fuck you? That’s what you want, yeah?”

Your throat tightens and you nod. “Just once..”

“Good… See, I like it when you speak up.”

—

That day, he took you back to his dorm. He draws the shades and lulls you to bed—kissing your neck. You follow him and take a seat on his lap until his hands are wandering beneath your clothes.

There’s no need for words, he knows what you want and you make clear in a string of shallow breaths when his lips find your neck again.

You hold onto him, head tilting to the side, drunk on pleasure. Eren lifts your top and tosses it away.

“I want it all off…” he whispers, gazing between your eyes and bra. A chill runs up your spine, he’s never seen you naked before but in this moment, you don’t care for modesty. You just want to feel good, there’s nothing much in your life that excites you anyways.

Nothing to lose.

“Then take it off,” you say back.

Eren’s brows hike up at your assertion, he smiles, realizing this will be more fun than he’d thought. He unclips your bra with ease and lays you down on the mattress. The afternoon sun finds its way in through cracks in the blinds, streaking light across your body.

Cold air stings your flesh as he slips off your jeans. You’re caught between him and the warm sheets. Eren holds your hips and gazes, drunkenly, between your thighs. He looks back up at you for consent, you nod.

Eren pulls down your painties, eyes violating your body. You may have overestimated yourself, because now… as you lay here, fully exposed—your heart throttles with nerves. He’s clothed, hovering over you, and for some reason that makes you feel vulnerable.

He finds your eyes, and for once there’s a look of softness. Your hands are shaking by your sides, Eren runs a feel over your heartbeat.

“Shh… it’s okay,” he whispers. He cups your face in one hand. “It’s okay… it’s okay. chill out,” he says with a light chuckle which makes you giggle a bit as well.

“Gonna get you ready,” he mutters, nearly inaudibly. Eren moves down your body and you keep a hand over your heart to calm your nerves. He stops between your thighs and parts your legs. A chill brushes you there from the open air. You can feel that you’re already wet.

Eren runs his thumb against your clit to see how it makes you feel. Your body shutters ever so slightly. He kisses between your thighs before slowly meeting his lips with your cunt. You swallow, hard… and fumble a grip to the top of his hair. You can feel him slightly laugh to himself at your reaction.

His mouth moves in a slow caress, kissing your flesh, soaking in all of you at once. You feel the warm, velvety sweep of his tongue across your slit and allow a cry to escape. Your thighs stiffen to a close and Eren forcefully rips them open again. He grips your hips and holds you in place.

Your moans fill the silent room and you cover your mouth. You were in a dormitory after all. Muffled chatter echoes through the walls. Eren lifts his face, you can see your own juices dripping down his chin—a stark reminder that he’d just tasted you in the most intimate way possible.

He grips your wrist, firmly—and yanks your hand from your mouth.

“I told you to stop the shy shit,” he spat.

You breathe heavily. “But if people hear—”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“But—”

“Stop whining and let me hear those pretty cries again.”

You part your lips but no reply escapes. He nods, smirking, and kisses your cheek. “Good girl.”

Eren sinks down again and wastes not time picking up where he left off, this time with more vigor. He’s torturing you like he always does… Testing you. He wants to make you fucking scream.

You grind yourself against his mouth and for once, just let go…

This strange boy who sweeps you away every afternoon is all you can see, all you can feel. He builds you up to your climax and you clutch at his roots. He’s making sweet love to your cunt like it’s all he needs—and in this moment, all you need is him.

What else in your life makes you feel this good? You’re caught between the pleasure and a melancholic reminder that this is the best you’ve felt in a while.

You curse and cry, hips bucking, a tightening rises in your core and flushes across your entire until you’re a mess for him. You sink your spine back down into the mattress and release his hair, sighing.

Eren pulls his face away, a string of cum connecting his mouth to your cunt. He just stares at it, eagerly…

He looks back up at you.

“Yeah… Catch your breath…” he moves up. “There you go, good girl,” he smirks, kissing your parted lips to make sure you taste what he tastes.

He pushes your hair behind your ears. “I loved your cries… You listened to me.”

You look up at him, doe eyed—nodding.

“Good things always happen when you listen to me, right?”

You nod again..

“Now keep breathing. Yeah?”

He sits up and takes off his shirt, hands swiftly unbuttoning his pants. You gaze hazily at the length that’s about to be inside of you. He catches you and scoffs. “Don’t look at me like that, you can take it.”

“I don’t know if I can…” you say between labored breaths.

“You can… and you will.”

sooooo good😩😩

Dirty Little Secret (2)

Taglist • Ao3 • Social Media • Discord 18+ • Masterlists • ← Chapter 1

↳ 2 | Confessions

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader

Both you and Satoru have been keeping secrets.

words: 7.1k

cw: restraints, edging, vaginal fingering, oral, rough sex, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding kink, degradation, dacryphilia, cum play, praise kink, pregnancy sex

an: thank you to everyone who has read this little two-shot, especially those who have liked, reblogged and left comments. Those seriously keep me going. I'm not always able to reply to them, but I do read all of them and love them, so thank you!

The boutique store bell dings loudly as you run your hand through several silk dresses looking for a new one to wear when you see Satoru again.

You sigh as you walk around the store, listening to the quiet, barely audible music playing on the overhead speakers. You stop to look at a simple black dress with a cinched waist, visualizing the way it would accentuate your curves before grabbing it off the rack to try on.

Satoru hasn’t been around the last few weeks after his wife showed up at the hotel looking for him because he had missed their therapy appointment.

Every time someone would come to the club with a similar shade of hair, wearing sunglasses or you’d hear a boisterous laugh from across the building, your hopes would instantly rise - that it would be Satoru back to watch you dance and whisk you away for the night.

It hasn’t happened. You’d gone home disappointed every night you’ve worked.

“Excuse me,” a soft, tender voice rings through the air at the front of the store, “can you tell me where you keep your…”

The voice sounds familiar like you’ve heard it before, in a different tone, but you’re unable to place it until you round the corner of the aisle you’re in and spot her.

She looks the same as the last time you saw her, a spitting image from your nightmares manifested in real life to torture you for the sins you’ve committed with her husband.

The picture of perfection: long raven hair in loose curls, high-waisted gray pencil skirt, white top, and cropped jacket. She has black heels on which make her slender legs look even more elegant and long, accentuating her height as she talks to the store attendant.

You’re frozen in place, just staring as your heart beats so frantically in your chest that you feel like it could jump out and explode onto the tile of this tiny boutique.

And then the overhead bell dings again, almost silently due to ringing in your ears and thoughts racing through your mind until you see a head of unmistakable white hair walking towards the woman.

Get out.

That’s the only thing you can think as you take a few short, shallow breaths and look at the garment in your hands with a furrowed brow.

It’s so pretty, and you were going to purchase it but now you just need to put it back and leave as quickly as possible.

As you try to calmly walk down the aisle on wobbly legs, back to where you grabbed the dress you find yourself wishing you had superhuman abilities. Preferably one where you could turn invisible or even warp away and end up anywhere in the world, just so you don’t have to be in this situation right now.

“Shit! I’m so, so sorry,” you frantically yelp when you turn the corner, ready to shove the dress onto any rack and sprint out of the store because you’ve just run into Satoru’s wife.

And not only that, you made her spill her coffee all over her well-pressed, tailored outfit.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you place a hand over your stomach, taking a deep breath, silently talking yourself into not vomiting on her as well.

You’re expecting the worst. Who wouldn’t?

Either she’s going to recognize you from the hotel or Satoru has been working on their marriage, going to counseling like she wanted and that’s why you haven’t seen him in almost a month.

She’s going to know who you are, splash the remnants of her coffee all over you in retaliation, or worse.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she places a gentle hand on your upper arm and gives a sincere smile before shifting into a look of concern, “Sweetie, are you okay? You look a little sick.”

There’s a horrible feeling at the pit of your stomach when Satoru walks up from behind his wife, placing his hand on the small of her back lovingly.

His eyes are unimpeded by his glasses, shining brighter and more crystalline than the prettiest of oceans. They sparkle as he looks down at you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips like it’s some divine justice to find you here talking with his wife.

“Satoru, honey, can you be a dear and pay for her dress? I don’t want to cause her any more trouble.”

“You got it.” He retorts cooly before leaning down to place a peck on her lip causing the butterflies in your stomach to scratch and claw. 

You could have handled her being a bitch. Being called every name under the sun if she knew who you were, which she clearly doesn’t. But being nice, and sweet is so much worse.

She doesn’t deserve what you’ve been doing behind her back.

“No, that’s okay,” you manage to croak out finally, “I was going to put it up anyway.”

“Nonsense.” Satoru cuts in, “I bet this will look great on you. Besides, it looks like you’re having a strange day.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and bewildered, “Yeah, you could say that.”

His wife cocks her head to the side smiling before turning, leading the way to the register upfront, before curiously stating, “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

You begin to answer, an automatic response whenever anyone says they recognize you, “Oh, I dance at-”

“The dance studio.” Satoru interrupts, “She’s a dance instructor.”

“Uhm. Yup. Some would say that.”

She furrows her brows, looking between the two of you before Satoru speaks again, “Don’t you remember? She was one of the instructors for the kids.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” his wife says with a heavy sigh, and a soft laugh, “I didn’t recognize you out and about.”

“No! No, that’s alright,” you smile weakly, confused, “it’s been… a few years since I’ve worked with them, I guess.”

You make uncomfortable small talk with Satoru’s wife, shifting on your feet, trying to quell your stomach while Satoru talks to the man behind the counter, seemingly about anything under the sun, just to take as much time as he can.

It feels like an eternity has passed when the shop attendant finally hands Satoru the bag your dress has been placed in, along with a receipt before he then turns on his heels, handing it to you, letting the tips of your fingers graze over one another in the process.

“Um, thank you. I’ll… see you around?”

It’s a question for Satoru and you know he’s aware, watching the way you bite your bottom lip waiting for his reply as his wife offers a kind, “of course,” before patting Satoru’s arm and walking away.

“Perhaps,” is all he says in response to you, looking you up and down before turning around to follow his wife.

The club is loud tonight, with more bass-heavy music playing than you would typically choose to have during your sets. The lights are the same; dark around the bar and club with colored spotlights on the stage for the performances.

You haven’t danced in over a month. Feeling sick on an almost nightly basis has caused you to move from centerstage off to the side. Now, rather than taking your clothes off, you’re pouring shots and mixed drinks for tips instead.

Satoru hasn’t been in.

In fact, you haven’t seen him since the day he bought the dress you’re currently wearing.

Whenever you’re missing him more than you care to admit, you find yourself wearing this dress or — if you’re not working — the black Versace sweatshirt you stole from him. The sweatshirt is your favorite token of the times you shared.

Because it’s comfortable and oversized and you look in it while you lazily lie on the couch eating too many snacks. Not that your growing belly seems to mind.

“Oh, my god. Sukuna’s here!” Uraume squeals next to you, causing Manami to poke her head in from the back, immediately searching for Suguru. You turn your back to the bar leaning against it.

No point in looking out in the club for Satoru. You know he’s not here. He never is anymore.

Even though Satoru hasn’t come in, his friends have. And you watch as they throw their money down the drain in bottles and bottles of alcohol, whisking away one or several of the dancers, bartenders, or patrons.

And on those nights you can’t help but wish you were still able to spend time with them. But they don’t pay you any mind, and you don’t ask about Satoru. It’s like you’ve never spent time with them outside of the club.

And that level of rejection stings.

“Uraume, I heard Sukuna say he wants to spend some time with you,” you mention offhandedly, folding your arms across your chest, tilting your head in their direction, and flashing your eyebrows.

They waste no time in grabbing a few of the finest bottles the club has to offer before scurrying off in his direction. You snicker to yourself before Manami pouts, telling you how to mean you are while nodding your head toward a customer that’s just sat at the bar.

You’re met with clear blue eyes when you turn around. Eyes you’ve missed, eyes that have always looked like they can see into your soul and wants to devour you whole if you let them, “Who the fuck was that?”

“Uhm, they’ve seen Sukuna around and have a little bit of a crush- why are you here?”

You’re nervous and fidgety and the glass you’ve picked up to pour a drink feels as if it will fall out of your hands at any moment due to your sweaty palms.

And now, more than ever, you wish you could pour yourself a shot. Or rather drink straight from the bottle and pretend Satoru isn’t sitting in front of you.

Your cheeks heat at the sight of him. He’s always looked good, even more so tonight with his black button-down and black slacks, no shades hiding his gorgeous azure orbs from the world, and white hair strategically messy, hanging over his forehead.

Your heart aches, wanting to reach out and touch Satoru’s hand. To sit in his lap and kiss his lips, to taste the spearmint on his tongue that you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself that you don’t miss.

The good and the bad. You’ve been through both with Satoru.

Now, the unexpected.

“Hear you’re pregnant.”

His voice is clipped with annoyance, eyes wandering your frame as you turn away from him to grab a few bottles. He doesn’t have to order anything, you know what he wants anyway.

“That’s none of your business after you fucking ghosted me.”

“Wanna know how I heard?” He muses, picking up the glass you slide across the bar in his direction before taking a sip, watching you over the rim.

“I don’t care.”

“I got a very interesting phone call this morning that someone leaked it to the press for a lot of money,” he continues anyway and your face could melt from the hole he’s burning in the center of your fucking eyes right now, “you told someone about us.”

You stare back, heart racing, but you don’t have any words to defend yourself. Everyone at the club has been made aware of your… circumstances, and why you switched from dancing to bartending.

But only one person was able to piece it together with a devilish grin, promising to keep your secret. 

Your manager, Mei. 

She watched, day in and day out as Satoru would come in, pay mass amounts of money for your company and take you away with him when he left.

If anyone else had been paying as much attention as her, they would have been able to figure it out too.

“Breaking your NDA,” he continues, swirling the liquid in his cup before taking another swig, “not a smart move. You know, I can sue your ass into the ground for defamation, take everything from you. You and your kid won’t have a home, let alone a leg to stand on. You’ll have to continue being a whore to make ends meet.”

You stare at him, tears threatening to escape the corner of your eye as he stares back, unwavering, emotionless. Your blood is boiling. Pissed that he would come in, in front of everyone, and talk to you this way.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He always has been, but never to you, not like this. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Seems like you weren’t going to bother telling me at all.”

“Did you expect me to just call you up? Say ‘Hey, by the way, I know we’ve been fucking for the last year but now I’m pregnant, surprise!’ while you’re standing next to your wife?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Satoru seethes through clenched teeth as another patron comes to the bar, raising an eyebrow at your obviously shaken demeanor.

You grab the towel on the counter, wiping a few spots where alcohol had splashed while making Satoru’s drink, hands shaking as you choke back a sob, refusing to look at Satoru or the other guests.

“Can I get a-”

“I can’t do this right now,” you interject, shoving the towel in Manami’s hands as she comes up from the back, “I’m going on break.”

You stand, outside, against the brick wall of the club in a dirty ally taking several deep breaths, head tilted back, eyes closed, as you focus on your breathing.

The pregnancy was a shock. You and Satoru had only been together one time, unprotected, and fate decided to play the cruelest of jokes on you.

You cried when you found out. Debated on calling Satoru, unsure of what to do. You’re still not entirely sure what you want to do.

You’re still in the first trimester, so you have plenty of options, though none of them seem all that appealing.

Kids were something you always saw yourself with. Way, way, in the future.

And not from this sort of situation. You had always hoped to be more settled, calmed down, and less wild than you are now, having wanted to live your life to the absolute fullest before bringing life into the world.

But sometimes life has other plans. And now all you can do is move forward and figure out your next move.

The door from the back entrance creeks open, and you know who it is without having to turn your head or open your eyes.

There is one thought that’s been in the back of your mind, should you ever see Satoru again, should he ever find out;

“You don’t have to stay, you don’t have to be involved in any way.” Your voice is quiet, dejected, “I’ll deny the claims to the press,” You open your eyes, watching him from the corner, “I’m not even sure if I want to keep it.”

He nods his head slowly, hands in his pocket, expression almost sad at your announcement, “Maybe we should talk this through before either of us makes any rash decisions.”

The car ride is quiet, and tense, as Satoru takes you to an apartment complex near Shibuya.

It’s not uncommon for him to take you to places you don’t recognize, but you’re more nervous tonight than any other, unsure of what’s going to happen.

You’ve never seen him this mad before.

He doesn’t bother opening the door for you, opting instead to quickly get out of his luxurious car and begin walking to the lobby from the underground parking garage you’re in, expecting you to follow suit.

And you do, diligently, quietly.

Your heels click on the marble flooring, echoing through the silent lobby as you watch Satoru nod his head toward the concierge before stopping at the elevator.

Satoru swipes a card before pressing a button for the penthouse. The ride to the top is the same as the ride here; tense, terse, and the air is thick with anger and words left unsaid.

The elevator opens at a small lobby, with one door directly in front of it where Satoru swipes his card again before opening it. Expecting you to follow him inside.

And once you’re there, your back is immediately pressed against the door, Satoru’s lips on yours in a wild, frenzied, yet passionate kiss.

The kind of kiss where your teeth scrape together, where you wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his soft tresses as he kisses down your neck before licking a strip up from your chest to cheek.

“Satoru…” it’s not a complaint, even if you meant it to be one.

Having him here and now, in your arms once again, something you didn’t think was going to happen is more than you could have asked for.

Satoru presses his body weight against you, pushing you harder into the door before lifting you by your thighs, and carrying you out of the foyer.

After a few turns, you’re laid gently on a soft surface, Satoru climbing over you as your tongues continue to meld together, until he eventually pulls away, thumb tracing the outline of your now kiss-swollen lips.

“Stay here.” He demands, before getting off the bed and walking to a door on the other side of the room you’re in.

It’s an overly large bedroom with two nightstands on either side of the oversized bed, a dresser across with a mirror to the side of the bed, and modern paintings akin to something an interior decorator would select.

But it’s also filled with objects you recognize. A stand filled with the little black sunglasses he likes to wear at night, a hamper next to the dresser, overflowing with soft black tee shirts he likes to wear under his button-ups.

“Move to the top of the bed.” You're startled from looking around when Satoru emerges, but do as he’s said, resting your head against the softest pillows you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying on. Like little clouds brought down from the highest points in the sky, just for you.

He sheds his shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the hamper you saw earlier, before undoing his belt, letting it fall to the floor with a soft clatter before crawling onto the bed, eclipsing your body with a nefarious smirk.

Satoru presses his lips against yours in a slow, sensual kiss, like you’ve never experienced from him before. Your lips move in tandem, tongues tangling together as you relax, melting into the way his large hands slide down the length of yours while straddling your hips.

He smirks when you let out a breathy sigh before raising both your arms above your head, crossing your wrists, and using a soft white fabric to tie them to the bedframe.

You watch with big doe eyes as he tests the knots he’s created, making sure they’re not going to break loose before looking at you with softer eyes than you’ve seen all night, maybe ever. Satoru studies your face, eyes flickering across your features before his gaze shifts down.

“Pretty dress,” he pulls on the shoulder strap letting it snap against your skin when he lets go, “is this the one you were buying when you spilled coffee on my wife?”

Your brows furrow, realizing just how helpless you are in this position before swallowing thickly, answering quietly, “Y-Yes.”

Satoru clicks his tongue, fingertips gliding over the skin of your chest causing goosebumps to form before grabbing the thin silk fabric at your breasts-

“What-”

He rips the fabric open, exposing your bare chest.

“A- ”

Another tug and the fabric rips down to your navel.

“Shame.”

Your chest is heaving, tits rising and falling in anticipation, wondering what he’s going to do next.

You’d be upset that he just ripped an incredibly expensive dress if there wasn’t a fire burning in your core, desire running rampant, waiting for him to touch you in all the ways you’ve been dying for the last few months.

Satoru leans over you, pulling out a silk black fabric from his pocket, gently sliding it over your head to cover your eyes. It’s so dark you can’t see a thing out of it and it fits so snugly there are no cracks to make out any light.

You turn your head a few times, trying to find an angle that lets you see something but it’s useless. 

Satoru sighs, content while sucking a few small marks on your neck before nipping and licking his way to your breast, slipping a nipple in his mouth while palming the other.

Your back arches off the bed, wrists tugging on the smooth fabric tied around your wrists as he pinches and tweaks each nipple with his thumb and forefinger, gently tugging on the other with his teeth.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out, thrusting your hips up to try and meet his, to find stimulation while he’s rolling his fingers and tongue over your hardened buds.

He chuckles, watching how you shamelessly squirm beneath him in pleasure, cock straining in his slacks from the sight.

Satoru loves seeing you like this. All needy and helpless, waiting for you to inevitably beg him to fuck you. And he will. But not yet.

You don’t deserve it yet.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when he lets go of your breast with a pop, squeezing the other before letting his hands roam to your waist and hips, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses in his wake, dipping his tongue in your belly button.

You lift your hips when he moves the fabric upwards, making it easier to allow the dress to pool at your waist, exposing the unreal wet spot that has formed at the center of your panties, soaking them.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs more to himself than you, palming his hard cock through his briefs at the sight before massaging the plush skin of your thighs, lowering himself between them.

“Fuck, Satoru!” You cry out when he gives an experimental lick up the center of your panties, leaving a too-soft, too-gentle kiss right on your neglected clit before moving to kiss and lick your thighs.

You want nothing more than to have at least one of your hands free to thread through his soft white hair, keeping him at your center to extinguish the flames that are swallowing you whole right now.

You attempt to close your legs around his head in sheer neediness, but Satoru pushes your thighs apart.

“Keep your legs open.” He commands, forcing a loud whine to leave your lips.

“Satoru, please, I need you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, snapping the band of your panties to expose your glistening pussy to him. He licks his lips at the sight, running two thick fingers through your slippery folds.

“Oh god,” you moan out, much to his amusement, rutting your hips in a poor attempt at keeping the slightest amount of stimulation he just gave.

“Need me here, baby?” He asks condescendingly, watching you through his long, thick snowy lashes as you gasp, feeling his tongue run up your center, “fuck, you taste so good.”

“Please-pleasepleaseplease,” you’re begging while he teases, letting his tongue explore every part of your newfound sensitivity.

And then he just stops.

You try your best to look around, unable to see anything still but you can feel the smirk that’s spread across his face right now against you.

“Satoru,” you’re whiney, needy and you want to keep rutting your hips to fuck yourself on his tongue but he’s moved his hands to your hips, halting any movement. “Satoru, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps your legs spread wide open and hands cemented on your hips to keep you from moving.

“Satoru… please, please fuck me, baby, please.”

Normally that would work, begging for him to make you cum, but not tonight.

Satoru laughs into you, the vibrations from his voice shooting to the tips of your fingers to your toes, causing them to curl.

He’s teased you before, but tonight is different, more cruel. He’s still pissed and he’s making it known with the way he won’t let you have any stimulation.

“Please… I need you,” you pant out in desperation, voice so deliriously needy you don’t have any time to be embarrassed about how badly you want him, need him right now.

He perks at the trembling of your voice, watching as you lay your head back on the pillow in defeat and he laughs. Hot breath fanning your core before he enthusiastically licks along your folds, letting go of your hips to sink two fingers into your cunt, easily finding your sweet spot.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he focuses on rapidly flicking his tongue across your clit until you’re moaning all staccato and pretty for him, pulling on the restraints hard as you shatter onto his hand when he sucks your clit into his mouth.

He works you through your release, watching you shiver and tremble, walls fluttering so delicately around his fingers. He’s losing his patience, losing his will to keep himself from you any longer.

When you come down from your high, head lolled to the side, Satoru pulls the blindfold off to reveal a devious glint in his eye.

“Is it mine?” He asks suddenly.

“I-What?”

“The baby. Is it mine?”

It’s something that’s been nagging at him since he found out you were pregnant.

Sure, when he asked last time you were together, you told him you weren’t seeing anyone outside of him, and that made him happier than it should have at the time.

Now he needs to know if everything he’s done over the last few months has been worth it. That his absence from you has been worth it.

“Yes-yes, it’s only been you, baby. Only you.” The corners of your eyes are wet, tears having escaped with nowhere to go with the blindfold on, “the baby’s yours.”

Satoru’s cock twitches and jumps at your confirmation, unable to keep himself from you any longer, so he leans down and licks up your cheek to the corner of your eye before pressing a tender kiss to your lid.

“Satoru, can I-” you tug on the silky white ropes still binding you to the headboard, “I need to touch you.”

As soon as Satoru unties the knots, your hands are cupping his face as you hastily kiss him, letting your hands linger on his broad shoulders, down to his chest and hard abdominals.

When he pulls away, you latch yourself to him, sitting up as he sits back on the balls of his feet, never breaking the kiss. Your hands easily find the waistband to his briefs, sliding them down to free his hard length.

He groans in relief as soon as you grab his cock, tip red and sticky with precum as you use your thumb to spread it down his length, pumping several times as helps you out of the tattered remains of your dress. 

Satoru grabs your hips, tugging towards the middle of the bed so he can line his cock with your entrance, running the tip through your soaked folds several times before rubbing his sensitive tip in small circles on your clit.

He’d tease you until the end of time and space just to watch the way you writhe under his touch in desperate desire and anticipation.

But he’s not that patient today, not after not being able to have you for so long.

“Fuck-holy fucking shit-” he groans, throwing his head back as he presses his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “you’re good, so, so good to me, baby.”

Your back is arched off the bed as he fully seats himself inside you, running his hands along your breasts and waist, stopping at your stomach, staring almost longingly.

Satoru helps adjust your legs over each shoulder, locking your ankles behind his head as he immediately starts pumping into you at an unrelenting pace.

You feel nothing but Satoru as he leans down, pressing your knees to either side of your head, kissing you feverishly as he sucks small bruises onto the smooth columns of your throat, at that spot just under your ear that always makes you sigh.

“Right there, keep going,” You beg as your walls tighten around his cock like a noose, soft walls sucking him in, begging him to stay.

He would. He’d live inside you for all eternity if you’d let him.

Satoru brings his hand to the base of your neck, squeezing slightly, “I fucking love you. I really fucking do.”

Your brows furrow, gasping out a surprised moan, watching him with upturned brows at his confession, one you had convinced yourself wasn’t real, one that was due to drugs and sex.

“Tell me you love me.”

“Satoru, I-I,” You’re stammering, trying to find the words.

This isn’t something you’ve ever planned on saying, a feeling you’ve been trying to keep buried in the darkest pits of your heart, trapped away in a tiny box that you’d throw into the ocean and never see again if you could.

This is too much, he’s too much, but you can’t keep running from the feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long.

“I do, baby -oh, my god- I love you,” Your hands are tugging him closer so your lips meet fervently as his hips continue to wildly piston into you.

It’s angelic to him, the sound of your voice, your confession. Everything you do, so opposite of him but allowing him to corrupt you in unimaginable ways, sinfully so.

“Say my name, tell everyone.” He growls into your ear, slamming his hips into yours impossibly harder.

“Satoru, S’toru, S’toru” you chant deliriously, over and over again as he thrusts his hips until your orgasm rips through you like a tsunami, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you.

He makes you cum so many times it’s impossible to keep track, and he’s lost count too, but he knows he’s not going to be able to last much longer.

“Cum again, baby,” he tangles his hand into your hair, grabbing at the roots and forcing you to look up at him, “you can do it, you’re such a good girl, so pretty - cum on my cock.”

There’s not much you can do but listen, walls spasming, legs shaking, back arching off the bed until your soft breasts meet his chest. He kisses you again, spitting into your mouth, moaning against him as his tongue plays with yours.

He thrusts for a few moments that feel like an eternity, gripping your hair so hard you’re convinced he might rip it out until he cums so hard he’s positive he would have gotten you pregnant if you already weren't.

Satoru watches your chest heave, tits rising and falling so beautifully with each breath you take before he sucks in a breath, nuzzling into your neck and pulling out with a wince.

He’s shameless, so he watches the way his seed spills out of you, drips down your ass, and onto the sheets of his bed.

He chuckles when you shutter, pulling your hips away from him due to over-sensitivity when he runs his fingers through your folds, dipping two inside you to coat them in his release before shoving them to the back of your throat, making you gag.

“Good girl,” he whispers while you roll your tongue over his digits the best you can, sucking on them as he pulls them out of your mouth with a soft pop.

You lay your head back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded and a goofy grin on your face. He lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to kiss you, letting his tongue explore every crevice, tasting himself on your tongue while helping you roll to your side as he slides in behind you.

“Look at you,” Satoru whispers, blue gaze looking at the way your bodies lay together in the mirror across the bed, fingers nibbly tracing your belly, drawing several small infinity symbols, lost in thought, “Gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment while you stare back at him, watching the way he nuzzles into your hair, and kisses your neck and shoulder gently.

“I want you to keep it. I want to see you glowing,” he mutters quietly, “so big and round, full of me.”

You take a deep breath, looking away from the mirror before letting out a low, self-deprecating laugh because this isn’t a good thing, is it? You’re newly pregnant with a married man’s child.

There’s no way this is going to end well.

“Where are you going?” Satoru asks, confused when you pull away from his grasp, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“To pee. The last thing I need right now is a UTI.”

He hums, rolling over onto his back pointing in the direction of the attached bathroom, shamelessly watching the way your hips sway before you close the door.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, looking over your features.

Nothing looks different. You still look like the same person you were three months ago, albeit a little more tired.

You’ll have to find a new norm. With Satoru… his wife and two other children. All of them will thoroughly hate you when they find out.

Which is absolutely inevitable judging by how excited Satoru seems to be.

The only mild saving grace is they’ll probably hate him as well. But you don’t want that. Not really.

Tears prick in the corner of your eyes. Not those of love or pleasure but of confusion.

Confusion about the direction your life is heading and what you’re supposed to do now. Satoru is married, with a family of his own. He doesn’t owe you anything. After all, he was just a client you let yourself get carried away with.

Will you be a single mother? Will his other children hate you and your child? Will they want to be involved in their life growing up, will you even want them to be?

These are a few of the questions that race through your mind, but there are so many more, and none to be answered tonight.

You wipe your face with your hands, turning away from the mirror as several tears stream down your cheek. These hormones are going to be a real pain in the ass, you can already tell.

After using the restroom, you splash cool water on your face, trying your best to hide the evidence of the tears that escaped.

Satoru’s quiet when you re-emerge, eyes flickering between yours as he hands you a velvety, white robe to cover yourself in. It’s oversized, likely his, but rather than using it he opts to stay shirtless with baggy grey sweats.

He gives you space, noticing the red rings around your eyes, letting you look around his apartment at your leisure. You don’t go far, not wanting to overstay your welcome, especially since you just fucked your late-night lover on his marital bed.

The thought makes your stomach churn.

Walking down the hall from his bedroom to his living room, you take your time looking at the few personal photos that hang on the wall. All of his children.

His son is clearly the oldest, with dark black hair, a spitting image of his mother while his younger daughter looks like she could be Satoru’s twin with matching snow-driven hair. They both were lucky enough to inherit his crystalline eyes.

They’ll both grow up to be little charmers, just like their father.

You notice two things as you make your way from the hall to the living room, continuing to look around your surroundings.

One, all of the decor and furniture, looks like it belongs in a catalog. It’s modern but doesn’t give a homey feel. Like it’s been primarily unused.

And second, in every photo you’ve found, his wife isn’t present in any of them.

“Satoru. Where are we?”

It’s obviously his penthouse, but it looks like it hasn’t been lived in, ever. An open concept with the kitchen and living room divided by a small half wall, the kitchen is filled with the newest appliances one could ever hope and dream of having.

One of the walls in the living room is all floor-to-ceiling windows, giving the most gorgeous view of Shibuya you’ve ever seen, the city lights bright, still roaring to life in the dead of night.

You watch as Satoru walks to the living room with a glass of water, setting it on the glass coffee table before sitting on the sofa.

“I’ve separated from my wife.”

“What? Why?” You turn to him, wide-eyed and confused, heart in your throat at the news, too much excitement coursing through your veins, where it doesn’t belong.

“We just… grew apart. We married young and had kids right away. Over the years, we realized we wanted different things.”

You nod slowly, turning to look at him through the corner of your eye, “I thought you were in counseling. I heard… at the hotel, last time we were together.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, sitting back on the couch, long legs spread in front of him, “we tried for a while, but we’re too different now, want different things.”

It’s quiet for a few moments while you turn your attention back out the window, viewing the Shibuya skyline. There’s some shuffling behind you before Satoru wraps his arms around your stomach, pulling you into him.

“I want to be with you.” A chill runs down your spine at his quiet admission, your eyes flickering up to meet his through the reflection of the mirror.

You place your hands gently over his, leaning into his touch, heart beating so loud you can hear it in your ears. 

“Why would you want to be with me? I don’t fit into your world.”

A few months ago you wanted nothing more than to believe he actually loved you when he said it that night. But now that he’s telling you he wants you, that he left his wife and wants to make this work, you’re not sure if you can.

“Besides, what’s the press going to say, the people who voted for you, once they find out about your infidelity, that you got a stripper pregnant and you left your wife for her? This… this is too much, Satoru.”

But that’s why he wants to be with you. Because you’re so different than what his life has become.

Lies, sneaking around, constantly having to save face for his family's sake and his wife’s wellbeing. At least when he’s with you he can truly be himself.

Wild and crazy, calm and relaxed. You’ve seen it all in your short time together, helping him escape the loneliness he’s always been riddled with.

Satoru didn’t mean to fall in love with you, and he’s not sure when it happened. It could have been the moment he first saw you on stage, the most beautiful woman he’s sure he’s ever laid eyes on, or it could have been when he realized you liked to spend time with him and not his money or things he can provide.

You’re the only person he’s been with within his marriage. He hated himself after your first night together, but being with you is so freeing, in ways he hasn’t known, having been tied down to his overbearing wife for years, that he couldn’t stop himself from coming back for more.

After a few months, he realized he hated the way other men would try to garner your attention, and knew they couldn’t treat you like he could. Couldn’t match your energy the way he can.

“I want you to quit stripping.”

“Uhm, no? I like what I do, why would I stop?”

He sighs, it’s heavy, frustrated. And honestly, he wasn’t expecting a fight since he can take care of you in ways you’ve never even considered before.

“The papers, journalists, people on the street. They’re all going to call you a myriad of names, tear you apart and rip into your past to bring you down. It’ll be easier if you quit while we’re ahead.”

Also because he hates the ways guys look at you in the club. Hates the thought of someone else being able to put their hands on you.

If you did it with him, what would stop you from letting another man come and whisk you away from him?

“I’m not going to quit my job because of the decisions you made, Satoru.”

He runs his hands over his face, groaning, “fine, fuck! Just… I can…” he stops to think, waving his hands in front of him a little, “I can change the conversation. Say I support you with your career.”

“So you’ll lie?”

“Not exactly. I’ll just flip some words around and make it work.”

His reputation is ruined, nobody is going to accept him and his wife separating. Not when he’s built his entire career around being a family man. He has to find a new way to work this, otherwise, his career will be ruined too.

“Is that what you do… twist words until you get your way?”

“That’s part of the job, babe.”

He comes back behind you, grabbing your hand, leading you through his living room, down the hall, and back to his bedroom, “we can worry about all of this later. Let’s just be together before shit hits the fan.”

Satoru lays you back on the bed, nestling himself between your thighs. You accept the slow deep strokes he gives, unlike any you’ve ever experienced from him before.

You stay like this until reds, purples, and blues flitter across the sky with the rising of the sun, until you’re both spent, falling asleep in each other's arms.

“Is this your wife’s?” Your staring at the dress Satoru is handing you, early in the morning with a disgruntled look on your face.

“I’m not that insane. I bought it for you.”

You squint your eyes, judging him for buying you clothes to keep here before having actually spoken to you about it. You begrudgingly snatch the dress from his clutches and put it on, opting not to cause a fuss over something as trivial as that.

It’s a little snug, a little smaller than you would have picked out for yourself, but you’re not really in a position to argue when you have nothing else to leave the apartment in.

Lest you go naked, but something tells you Satoru would rather have an aneurysm than let that happen.

He’s in a white button-down, black slacks and is putting on his watch as he stares at you through the mirror in his bedroom.

“Just so you know, there’s going to be journalists outside waiting on us.”

“O-oh, um… Why?”

He takes a deep breath, walking over to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“News broke last night about you being pregnant and my separation.”

It’s the reason he went to you last night and picked you up from the club. He knew this was going to happen overnight and he wanted to save you from having to deal with it alone.

You nod and don’t ask any more questions as you go down the elevator to the front lobby of the apartment complex, squeezing Satoru’s hand as he puts on his dark square shades, offering you a pair to help cover your face a little.

You’re sick to your stomach, not sure if it will ever settle. This isn’t how you thought your life would turn out, the pregnant mistress of a well-known politician, but you have no choice now but to see it through to the end.

When the doorman opens the lobby door, lights flash, cameras shutter and there’s a loud buzzing from journalists asking questions you can’t make out filling the open space.

Satoru makes his way through the crowd, following someone in a black suit to a fancy black car out on the street, holding the door open so you can squeeze into the back seat.

Now, all you can hope is that the two of you can make it work, and he won’t leave you and your child for another woman, like he did his wife.

@petalsrdead @sofiaconlaz @lovelylashawnalee @s-witch-bitch @watyousayin @desthevirgo @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @musababy @sagejin @ritsatoru @faewithsnakes @erenputurchildreninsideme @lex-dear @hvziers @babybae-shisui

🤰🏽

Well hello there.

Credit: 444Jaeger instagram

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 18] Satoru's Plans

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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Satoru can’t stop thinking about your date, one with a man that just happens to have the same last name as his old best friend. He didn’t get you to repeat the name, so maybe he misheard. But he doubts it. He just knows that it’s Suguru. He doesn’t know what Suguru is up to, but he knows that Suguru is up to no good.

And it doesn’t let him sleep. He’s trying to find out when you have the date so he can ruin it. Moreover, now that Suguru definitely knows who you are, his relationship with Leiko is pointless. So he’ll end things with Leiko as soon as possible and then– He doesn’t know what he’s going to do with Suguru nor you for a matter of fact. But he’ll figure it out eventually.

Right now, Satoru’s main focus is to stop your date. Or at the very least, ruin it.

So he’s trying to figure out when you have your date, and he hates doing this, but he’s following you around. You’re barely going out as a six-month-old jobless pregnant woman, but you do go out for a moment to get some food since you’re not in a cooking mood. You’re getting too much food for one person, and he wonders why until he remembers that Kaya is living with you. Apart from that, you don’t go out for the rest of the day.

That night you don’t go on a date. So he has to come the next day to watch you. You don’t go on a date for a whole week– At least you don’t go out with anyone else. Satoru ignores work calls and Leiko for a whole week, focusing completely on you. The man thinks it’s easier to find Suguru and kill him than to wait around.

The eight night, he’s thinking about how the date just isn’t going to happen. You’ve backed out. You definitely have at this point. He’ll just break it off with Leiko and try to receive your forgiveness, while also figuring out what he wants to do with Suguru.

He receives a phone call when he’s about to go home, and to his surprise, it’s you. He quickly picks it up, putting the phone to his ear, “Hello?”

“Hey, Satoru… Just haven’t heard from you in a while. Want to make sure you’re still alive.” You say, and he mentally curses himself, knowing that he’s been unintentionally avoiding you while keeping his eye on you. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping his lips, making you think he’s annoyed with you.

“Yeah, I’ve just been busy. I’ll stop by tomorrow with some items for the baby and–” He sounds irritated over the phone, even though he isn’t– Maybe at himself but not at you. But you certainly don’t know that.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come around since it’s such a hassle. I’m going on a date tomorrow anyway.” You respond. He exhales, biting down his bottom lip before a stupid smile comes to his lips. Of course you are. “Alright. See you.”

“Wait–” He begins but you hang up the phone on him. He bites down his lip before sighing in frustration. Almost one week wasted, and your date is still happening.

-

You aren’t sure why you agreed to a date, maybe to piss off Gojo. But you dread getting ready, wondering if you should show up. It’s best to just cancel, again, but you can’t risk Kaya getting mad at you, again. Plus, it’ll be nice for you to go out with someone else that’s not your best friend. You don’t necessarily have to date, maybe you’ll just make a friend.

You show up at the little restaurant that’s near your apartment, your eyes searching for the man she showed you in pictures. Gauges, long black hair, nice face. You think you’re in the wrong place or maybe too early, until your eyes finally land on him. He stands up, a big smile appearing on his face.

You try to smile at him, but it comes off as insincere. But he doesn’t mind. You walk over to the table he’s at and take a seat across from him. When you’re seated, he takes a seat again. You feel awkward for sitting down so soon when he introduces himself, “I’m Suguru, it’s nice to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. You’re definitely awkward at first, and he notices. So he tries to get you to loosen up. He cracks a couple of jokes, however, you don’t laugh. After that failed attempt he asks, “What do you do?”

“I’m a full-time student.” You answer, and his eyebrows raise. Of course you are, Satoru will make sure the mother of his child is comfortable. You watch as he waves at the waiter to walk over and take your order. You’ve barely looked at the menu though. You feel awkward and mean to even think about dismissing the waiter, so instead you order the first thing on the menu. “How about you?”

“I’m a cult leader.” He responds, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes clearly displaying worry. Before he bursts into a laugh. You awkwardly laugh in response too, “Man, you don’t seem to have a sense of humor.”

“That’s so mean to say… But you’re right. I’m just a tad bit nervous.” You confess. “I’ve just been thinking about this… Isn’t it awkward for you? Are you actually comfortable with this?”

“With what?” He plays dumb. He knows exactly what you’re talking about. You smile at him and then shake your head. You begin to converse about something else, and you start to loosen up. He actually makes dumb jokes that you laugh at.

Everything goes so well, until someone that you weren’t expecting approaches your table. You find the father of your son staring right at your date, and you furrow your brows as you look at Satoru. He doesn’t even care to acknowledge you while staring at Suguru. Suguru looks at you and asks,

“Do you know who this is? Why is he here?” You glare at Satoru and you’re so tempted to shake your head. But perhaps you’ll end up being friends with Suguru, and you don’t want him to later find out about the fact that Satoru is,

“He’s the… Father of my baby.” You reveal, almost ashamed to admit it.

“Don’t act like a damn idiot, Suguru. You know who I am.” Satoru says, and you’re taken back by the fact that Satoru knows who Suguru is. You only ever mentioned his name to the man and that was over a week ago. However, Suguru doesn’t seem to know who Satoru is. “I should’ve warned you. If you even try to touch her, I’ll kill you.”

Satoru doesn’t try to be discreet, and now there’s eyes on you. You feel your face get warm, and you end up standing up. You can’t even look directly at Suguru as you mutter, “I’m so sorry, I think we should go. I’ll ask Kaya for your number.”

You grab Satoru’s hand and try to drag him out of the restaurant, you don’t have to use much force since the man complies. The moment you’re outside, you cross your arms and just glare at him. You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to decipher what the right words at this moment are. “Satoru… I’m just so… Disappointed right now.”

“Let me hear about your feelings.” He responds. You take a deep breath before you answer.

“I’m just… Why can you have a girlfriend but when I have a date you come and ruin it? I was starting to have fun with him, but you came and threatened to kill him in front of everyone for no reason.” You argue.

“Don’t you think I’d have a reason? Do you think I would just threaten to kill him for no apparent reason?” He questions and you slowly nod in response. It’s not like Satoru has given you too many reasons to trust him. You can rely on him financially, but you have no other reason to put your trust one hundred percent on him. “I know I haven’t handled things the best way but… I’m asking you to trust me on this. Suguru is not your friend and if he wants to get close to you, it’s to hurt me. And please trust me, the father of your child, over a mere stranger.”

“I don’t even know what to say…” You shake your head disapprovingly. You pinch the bridge of your nose before sighing. “I’ll trust you. But you have to tell me why. I can’t just ignore him for the simple reason that you don’t like him.”

“It’s a really long story.” Satoru answers, and you roll your eyes. You begin to walk away, but not back into the restaurant, “Won’t you just trust me?”

“I want to hear your reasoning. We have so much time to kill.” You respond. He follows behind you as you walk back to your apartment, which isn’t too far away. “This baby isn’t coming out yet, you think you can tell me between that time?”

“Why are you so mad? You two literally just met, it’s not like I ruined anything?” He questions and you come to a stop. You turn to face him, clearly irritated with him. 

“It’s not about Suguru. It’s about the fact that you can be all happy with Leiko, and what do I do? Nothing. But the moment I go out on a date, you come to ruin it. Worst of all, you don’t give me an explanation.” You tell him, and he sighs. “Or what? Do you not want your baby to have a stepfather? Do you just want me to stay single? You’re so crazy, you were just encouraging me to go out with someone else–”

“I don’t want you to go out with him– And don’t even suggest him becoming the stepfather of my son.” Satoru says, making you turn around and walk away again. “Plus, I’m breaking up with Leiko.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it!”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @kageyamaslittleroyal20 @mykyoon @sunjayist @fonkymonkeyfriday @lilith412426 @luvs-wrld @witchymermaid12 @fi106 @distractionforyourthoughts @dearsunaa @tamak00 @watyousayin @leiriswhore @q-the-rockaholic @shuxjodie @syynnaaah @kleeboomed @shrekmwa @bakugobiddies @blueeskies17 @arminsgfloll @obeythemasters @crispmarshmallow @levismainbabe

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈 𝐃𝐎 | eren jaeger

warnings . . . fem reader , black coded reader ! , best friends -> lovers ( ? ) / best friends with benefits . . i dunno , lotsa flirting , fingering , oral sex ( f -> m ) , both reader + eren are tipsy off wine , squirting , creampie , unprotected sex , use of daddy ( only twice ) , pet name usage ( ex. pretty, good girl, pretty girl ) , slight dubcon ( reader doesn’t wna make a mess , eren kinda forces you to ) , sex flashback mentioned , mention of reader havin tummy rolls when she’s folded up , don’t care how tall you are eren’s taller than you , characters are aged up to their early twenties ! mdni !

word count . . . approx. 6.1k

i’m outside.

eren lets his phone drop back inside of the cup holder on his armrest after the text shoots through with a small ping!. “i’m not a succulent or a sucker, baby girl. these roots made me, i bring my flowers to the world.” his head nods slowly to the steady, rise and fall tempo of the beat echoing through his bmw m4 coupe’s speakers and he lets his hands fall from gripping the lower portion of his steering wheel to drop limply on his lap when realizing two, three, four minutes have passed and you still haven’t exited your building yet.

“jesus fuckin’ christ,” he murmurs underneath his breath, preparing to grab his phone to instead call you this time, only to watch the metal gate of your apartment complex swing open as you come walking out the second he clicks on your contact name.

in all sincerity, eren considers himself to be a simple guy. he sees something he likes, he appreciates it. something he dislikes, he’ll say it.

when he sees you start to walk to his car, dressed in a thin strapped, hot pink, curve hugging sundress that reached your ankles with a high slit to show off those fuzzy slides he loves when you wear with each step you take, eren habitually spreads his legs just a little bit wider. he does this every time he sees you and he doesn’t really know why — or, to plainly speak and to be completely honest, he doesn’t know why his dick goes rock hard after every single time he steals a simple glance of you.

“hey,” you breathe out and give a pretty smile when the passenger door’s open and you’re letting your hefty, marc jacobs tote bag drop onto his lap. eren usually makes fun of you for having a bag so big and is quick to make a snide comment about the accessory each time he sees you wearing it, however today, his complete and total focus is just on you, you, you.

he hums, letting his eyes openly cart themselves down the length of your frame. “you look good.”

when you’re buckled in and the door’s shut, he gets a nice nose full of strawberry poundcake. his dick grows harder.

you playfully roll your eyes and snatch your bag from his lap to plop it onto yours then adjust the strap of your dress to pull the front of it up higher to keep your tits from spilling over the scoop neck. “i know.”

eren feels the corner of his lips lift, as bad as he didn’t want to smile, and he waits until you flip the sun visor back up after gently combing up your falsies with the side of your finger in the mirror, for him to reach out his arm and grab you by the throat with a grip firm enough to gather your attention lock, stock, and barrel on him. he doesn’t miss the way you burst into giggles as you try to lean back while clutching at his arm, only he brings you closer until you both meet halfway with your faces over the armrest.

he mumbles quietly, “say thank you.”

you giggle harder and eren hates that having your face this close to his makes his heart feel like it’s galloping within the bounds of his rib cage. “fuck off,” you whisper back in reply with a cute smirk playing on your glossed lips. fucking minx. eren inhales a breath through his nose, then blows it out with a small chuckle before letting you go and turning his attention back to his front so that he can put his car in reverse and back out of the driveway.

“no, but i wanna say thank you for driving me around today.”

eren doesn’t miss how you reach for the bottle of water he has in his cup holder, followed by his phone. you type his passcode in as if the device were yours then riffle through the folders of his playlists to click on the one titled with your name you had made while bored one day and seated in his passenger seat, just like now. just who the fuck do you think you are?

“mechanic says my car won’t be done until tomorrow evening, but i really needed to go grocery shopping. my fridge is like, basically empty.”

summer walker’s toxic intro fades into the car through the speakers and eren bites a chunk of the inside of his cheek between his teeth. “you’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass, you know that?”

you note that he’s trying to hold in a smile because the dimple in his right cheek craters into the skin as his jaw constricts. “you adore me,” you grab him by the face so that his chin rests inside the downwards curve of your palm and your fingers pinch into his cheeks to make his lips pucker. “mm, c’mon. say it. say you love me, eren.”

his cheeks bulge as a handsome smile finally starts to spread across his lips. grabbing your wrist to snatch your hand from his face, eren then brings it up to his mouth to bite your fingers hard enough to make you squeak and jerk back. “fuck you.”

eren likes you. he really does, and his feelings for you always seems to hit amid the oddest of times — when you’re stuffing your mouth full of fried shrimp until your cheeks bulge or when you’re pouting and mumbling about how your favorite bronzer fell and cracked into tiny pieces so you’re going to have to order a new one. you have his heart right in the palm of your little fucking hand, nails are practically pierced into the meat of it and one wrong move, one wrong word can have eren either ripping it out or it bursting and deflating.

“hm. smell this.” standing in your favorite grocery store's produce section, you’re holding a plump, kesar mango up underneath eren’s nose so that he can get a good whiff of its scent. your eyebrows pinch in close when his facial expression doesn’t change and they jump a bit when you ask, “smells good, no?”

he’s blinking at you slowly, taking in your pretty face, “smells like a mango.”

your eyes roll. “you’re literally no help.”

eren hums as he watches you drop the mango inside of a little, plastic produce bag, followed by around three more after squeezing and sniffing them. “want a fresh pineapple, too,” you mumble before squeezing past him with the cart. eren can’t help but find this all a little … comforting. grocery shopping with you, running errands with you. he can see himself doing this with you again . . and again and again, if you’ll let him. “lamb chops or chicken drumsticks?”

in the fresh meat department, you’re pointing at the glass in which holds tubs of raw, unrefined slabs of it. your acrylic nail makes small clicking sounds as you tap at it then bend to get a better look at the lamb chops and you try not to stiffen up when you feel eren do the same, only he was directly behind you, with his crotch pressed right up against your ass. brown flyaways fall into your vision once his chin plops down onto the crown of your head. you hear him suck his teeth in consideration, “. . fuck. get the chicken,” he soon whispers. “see. look. ‘s not a lotta fat on ‘em . . and they cook faster.”

the rationale behind his decision makes sense and you’re fully prepared to go through with it, only, you don’t think you want to move . . or at least, not right now. because eren smells good, like woodsy body wash and exactly like bleu de chanel — the cologne you got him for his birthday earlier this year. and he feels good.

eren’s big, you noticed that a while ago. stands over an entire foot and a half taller than you and his shoulders are broad — he easily cloaks himself over your entire frame and you’re sure if someone were to stand behind you both, they would hardly be able to even notice you, if not for your feet between his. “mm, mkay,” you’re soon murmuring, matching the low tone of his voice before you’re forcing yourself to stand up straight which makes him do the same.

you had a hunch and expected him to take a step back, however he keeps himself there — chest glued to your back and he shoves his fists inside the pockets of the grey, sweat shorts he wore, as if cementing himself there and you try not to smile too hard when instructing the butcher which meats to pick, bundle up, and weigh on the scale.

“ ‘kay! next on the list is the furniture store!” you’re squealing and kicking off on the cart with one leg and your hands gripping the handlebar to catch up with eren’s long strides as you both walk out of the market back to his car. “you excited?”

he gives you a side eye when you catch up to him then pulls his key from pocket to unlock his car with the keyless entry. the trunk pops open as the locks unfasten with a quick chirp! and honk. “do you got gas money?”

his question makes you burst into giggles as you tilt your head back and place both your feet on the lower railing of the front caster so that he can steer the cart to his car by the basket. “mm, you charging me now, mr. jaeger?”

he doesn’t answer you. not until you’re both loading his trunk up with the bags and you’re bending yourself a little lower to push a case of water towards the back to make more room. merely then, is when you feel him do it again — his crotch presses against your ass and you bolt up on impulse. “please,” you hear him chuckle before he gives a tight squeeze to your hip. “ ‘m playing. you know i’d never.”

he lets his trunk fall with a strong slam when he’s sure your fingers aren’t in the way then walks around the car to the passenger side to open the door with a charming smile on his face. “c’mon. get your lil ass in.”

“i’m sick of you, you know?”

you tell him this while he’s speeding down the highway. your window’s all the way down and your hair’s fluttering on the thick streams of air pouring in. you don’t look at him when you say it, no, your eyes are closed and your chin’s tilted up towards the sun as if you were bathing in the rays it beams down on you.

eren licks his lips and glances at you for a long moment, simply admiring you. “what do you mean?”

you’re not smiling. he knows you’re serious.

you shrug, “i know what you’re trying to do.”

‘ i know ‘ … eren wants to laugh but he settles with a small huff while smiling, “mhm, and what’s that?”

you don’t know shit. you don’t know how truly deep his feelings lie for you but he’ll let you think that you do . . for your own peace of mind.

“you’re trying to fuck me.” his eyes bulge. “again.”

“oh fuck!” he can’t help but burst into laughter as he switches lanes. your words were so abrupt . . so straightforward, however he doesn’t know why he’s shocked. you’ve proven time and time again that you hardly ever hold your tongue for anyone nor anything. “shit, what makes you think that?”

your head turns towards him slowly and when he steals another glimpse at you, he sees that you’re looking up at him through your lashes and your lips are slightly pursed. it’s a facial expression that says a lot, specifically, ‘are you fucking serious?’ “fuck, alright,” why should he lie? he shrugs and keeps his eyes forward. “i wouldn’t mind if it happened again, but … i don’t want you to think that’s the only reason why i’m friends with you or why i’m doing this for you, alright? i don’t expect nothing in return, i don’t want you to pay me back. not in money, sex, favors, nothing … you hear me? i like hanging out with you and shit, but,” he chuckles a little. “i can’t help it. you’re fucking pretty and when i see that i have an opening . . to hug on you, grip on you, kiss you?” he shrugs and hums. “i’m going to take it — with your like . . your fuckin’ consent, of course. do i make you uncomfortable? with the shit that i do?”

when he glances at you, he notices a change in your expression. you’re no longer staring at him as if trying to read through the bullshit of his aberrant ramblings, your eyes are a bit glossed over and your lips are parted … you’re staring at him as if you just realized something.

“no,” you soon whisper. your head turns back forward and you go back to basking in the sun at his side. “no. i like it.”

and that’s that. your fingers reach out for the knob of the volume regulator to his radio to increase the sound of frank ocean’s voice belting out his bridge by the number.

you don’t want to think too hard about just how much you like hanging out with eren too … or, how much you really do enjoy feeling him hug and kiss on you. you two were just friends, will always be just friends. and friends drive each other to grocery stores, the mall, and their parents’ house to pick something up. friends invite each other up to their apartment to relax after running those said errands, and friends cook each other dinner.

you don’t know if platonic friendships end in you both sharing a bottle of red wine and . . cuddling ( ? ) on your sofa, but you try not to think too much about that.

“fuck, is this what being wine drunk feels like?” eren’s chuckling and rubbing the pads of his thumbs into the arch of your foot that lays on his lap. “i feel …” his head falls back against the back of the couch. his hair had long foregone its usual elastic — now hangs down his shoulders in a mess of curled and wavy strands that shine with a healthy gloss under your warm, though dim, lighting. “i feel sexy.”

your laughter bubbles up from the base of your tummy and erupts from your mouth. “you feel sexy?”

“mhm,” he’s nodding and his thumbs are sliding up to the outer ball of your foot. he presses in . . . hard, holding them there for a second, before proceeding in slow, steady circles. a burst of pain shoots up your calf, just a quick surge that makes you wince and straighten your posture, however you find that the longer he rubs, the better it feels. you melt.

“. . oh my god,” the moan slips out before you can reel it back in. “this feels amazing. why does this feel so nice?”

inner ball, down the arch to your heel, then he’s back up at the outer ball again. you whimper and curl your pretty, pedicured toes around his fingers once he starts to roll the knuckles of them carefully between the paddings of his thumb and index finger.

eren’s watching you — he’s fixed on you. his eyes are immersed in the facial expressions your face screws in. the little furrow your brows dig into when his thumb pressed into your arch, how your mouth drops when he uses his entire palm to knead your heel. he tries something. “feels good?”

your answer comes slow . . it’s like you’re in another dimension, but you soon nod. “mhm,” your voice is pitched an octave higher. “fuck, feels good ‘ren.”

eren is reminded of the last time he’s seen your face morph into those pretty expressions . . of the last time he heard those cute squeaks and tiny whimpers. six months ago, in his condo — silk, black sheets, red solo cups, hiccupy gasps, shuddery groans, white french tips lined on your toes that hung over his tatted shoulders, city skyline, pillows falling over the edge of his bed, confetti strewn all over the floors — it hits him like a montage. everything he remembers from that new years eve . . or should he say, early morning.

his fingers slide up from your foot to your calf. you’re soft . . unexplainably so.

“what are you . .” your voice is gentle and you’re pouting at him, just the slightest bit. “ ‘rennie, what are you doing?”

he’s leaning in slowly — testing you to see if you’d pull away, however when you don’t, eren lets himself indulge. he doesn’t kiss you full on, he lets his lips skim against yours, lets himself inhale your shaky breaths that taste like juniper and blackberries, and lets himself pull away just an inch when you go to lean in deeper.

soon, it’s only obvious his little game seems to piss you off because you grow antsy. lips glossed and pouted and with your pretty, round eyes flooded over with a drunken sheen he’s sure matches his, you whine out a tiny, “fuck, c’mon eren.”

he slowly begins to smile. “fuckin’ impatient,” he whispers.

but he gives you what you want — grabs you by the back of your neck to pull you in and smashes his lips into yours hard as if he’s angry with you. it makes you whimper. you feel him move. no longer are your feet thrown over his lap, but he’s squeezing himself underneath you, between you and the sofa cushions, so that you’re soon seated sideways atop his thighs. you love how small you feel in his arms, especially on top of him and you can’t help but mewl when his warm fingers start to climb up the slit of your dress to grab you by the waist and squeeze tight.

you find that eren kisses the way that he talks . . a bit slow, a little stringed together, sometimes messily. his tongue twirls against yours when you grant him opening deeper inside of your mouth and you moan when you feel his lips wrap around your own to suckle upon the slick muscle before letting go. it’s only right that you do the same, and when it happens, he lets his palm fall onto your ass with a thick smack!

“gonna let me fuck you tonight?” he whispers breathlessly, watching you fold your lips into your mouth and squeeze your eyes tight. “hm? gotta tell me something, baby.”

you want to weigh your pros and cons but you think that all of your common sense flew out of your brain through your ears the minute his hand touched your calf. “mhm.”

eren starts to thumb with the soft cotton strap of the thong you wore seated on your hip line and contemplates taking you to your bedroom — however that’s an entire walk upstairs and down a hall and he’s far too keen on you for that. he’s fully prepared to flip you both over to take you right here on the couch, but you’re mumbling for him to wait.

you don’t really say it, only you slide down off of his body until your knees hit the soft wool rug that covers your floor underneath the coffee table. “oh,” eren’s rendered speechless when you plop the side of your face on his thigh and fix him with the most dearest expression on your beautiful face. you don’t have to say it because he knows.

“fuck — want me to fuck your mouth?” he whispers, thumbs already hooking within the hemming of his sweat shorts to slide them down with his briefs. “huh? ‘s that it?”

you’ve wanted him to since that night. exhilaration coupled with two too many shots of tequila — both of you were too tipsy and hungry for one another that night to even think about anything close to foreplay, aside from eren spitting sloppily on your pussy and rubbing it into your little clit with his fingers. you know that he’s thick, though . . and long — know that he’d make the corner of your lips burn and chafe sore from the memory of the mere stretch of him pushing himself inside of your greedy cunt.

still, “yeah,” you whisper quietly, shyly with your eyes turning downcast and your butt plopping down on the heels of your feet. “mhm.”

his cock is pretty … but, it looks mean. two veins branch out in a strangled hook along the side, sending thick, hot rushing blood up to his tip to flush a deep maroon across the crown of it. soft, fat, swollen balls sit below, covered in just a slight, fine dusting of hair to match his happy trail and when you press a tiny kiss right against his frenulum, his entire shaft gives a jerk, sending it bumping right up against your nose as if needy for another one.

you can’t help but giggle and eren snorts a small chuckle while leaning his head back lower against the couch’s back pillow. “c’mon,” he mumbles, gazing at you beneath his lashes. his stare is dark . . brooding. “it misses you.”

“shut up,” you murmur in reply, unable to help how your face heats up because at the thumping of your clit and how you’ve been discreetly trying to rub it against the heel of your foot — you realize that your hollow, little cunny misses him too.

a slurred, long moan creeps up eren’s throat and glides out of his mouth the second you go to swallow him in one go. yet, due to his size, only around three fourths of him is able to fit — you gag on him almost immediately and eren’s eyes roll into the back of his head at the tight spasm of your little throat around his sensitive tip. “ooh, shit —“

drool creeps out the corner of your lips and you go to pull off, take a breath, and let a dollop of your spit drip down his shaft.

“one more time,” he breathes and cups the back of your head to add some pressure for when his hips slowly rise to push his hardened length back inside of your mouth. “jus’ one more — mmph, god damnit.”

you have him right where you want him. your head starts to bob slowly and the tight fist you have wrapped around his cock follows your mouth in steady, circular motions.

god, eren can barely even think, let alone move. his mouth is evidently, everlastingly popped agape with his initial shock of how fucking good you’re making him feel. he hopes you don’t pout too long at him for when he starts to rise and drop his hips to begin smoothly thrusting his dick in and out of your mouth.

you gag and you cough and you splutter, but eren makes sure to keep you where he wants you, uttering, “jus’ like that. mhm, look at me, look up at me, pretty girl — fuck, there you go.” feels too good, he can’t help it.

warm tears gloss your eyes prior to the little pearls beginning to drip off of your lash line and foamy bubbles of saliva bead at the foundation of eren’s cock before the liquid slides down and laminates his balls. it’s so messy and eren fucking loves it. he lets you pop off again to catch a breath and bathes in the pleasure of how quick you start to jerk him with a tight grip and flicked upstroke while your other hand massages his sac.

saliva shines over your chin and mixes in with the lipgloss on your lips — eren’s toes curl when he sees you lick it off, prior to you pinning him still with a doe eyed stare as your head dips so that you can lay the pad of your soft tongue flat against the base of his underside and slowly drag it upwards with a smile beginning to carefully stretch the corners of your lips at his transfixed expression.

eren finds that after that, everything goes a little bit blurry . . a little hazy . . — his next actions kinda … unclear.

because he doesn’t know when nor how it happened, but he finds himself on top of you with your back flat against the rug and his fingers thrusting up inside of your sweet, little pussy. and god, the faces you make . . the sounds you bless him with, eren can’t help but groan and grind his cock against your squirming thigh, needing to bury his face into the angled crook of your neck for his own sanity.

“shit,” you hiccup and tangle your fingers within the soft, brindled waves of his hair. “f-fuck, missed you. ‘ve missed you, ‘ren.”

you both see one another at least twice a week — whether that be alone or with your entire friend group for weekly game nights. anyone else would wonder what exactly there is to miss but eren understands what you mean. you’ve missed this. your body close to his, his arms wrapped around your little frame, the both of you pathetically desperate for the other. he completely understands.

“fuck, c’mere.” he grabs your face between his fingers to smoosh your cheeks in the slightest bit, make your lips pucker, then dips his tongue inside of your mouth for a sloppy kiss.

squelch, squelch, squelch — your pussy slurps and sucks in his fingers; pink walls grip tight around them and he spreads the digits of his ring and middle apart each time he pushes them in to get you to relax and stretch out. “what’s all that bullshit you was spewin’ earlier, hm?”

you feel his fingers exit your body so that he can lift up on his knees and reach for the neckline of his shirt to tear it up and off of his torso. the action leaves his hair a little messy and eren has to rake his hand through it to get it all off of his face. he wears a cocky, little smile on his lips. “ ‘you’re just tryna fuck me again,’ “ he mocks in a low tone while bending his head lower to skim his nose against yours. he wants you to feel his words on your lips. “ ‘fuck you, eren,’ and at your mom’s house? ‘nah, me and eren are just friends, could never date him.’ why’d you lie to her?”

you can feel him kicking his sweats and briefs off and somehow, the reality of the situation seems to hit you at full speed. you grow flustered and cover your face with your palms. “. . i d-didn’t lie.”

“you’re lying again right now, though.”

stupid, smart mouthed fucker. “fuck you, e—“

in a moment, he has your wrists gathered within one of his big palms and pinned above your head. and with the other, he grabs the base of his cock and makes his fat tip bounce up and down against your clit with sticky taptaptap sounds.

it’s fascinating, really — how your words immediately die out on your tongue as your brain goes foggy when you feel it. and eren certifiably, without a doubt adores how your pupils dilate . . leaving only a thin ring of color around a black, nebula filled disc revealing his reflection staring back at him. he’s the only thing plaguing your ditzy, little brain.

“oh my god,” is whispered when he uses his thumb to settle himself past that first, slight band of muscle.

off the bat, tight, mushy, warm wetness greets his cock with what feels like a firm hug. “oh …” his words expire upon the inlay of his tongue until all of his inches are seated comfortably inside of you. “f-fuck.”

god, he thinks what you own between your legs should be illegal. not a thought runs across his mind that didn’t include him giving you the keys to his car, his apartment, and his deposit box.

his initial thrusts are slow. he breathes you in, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lips to lips.

“l-like that,” you whimper and hook your calves against the back of his knees as if to force him to not move one more muscle. “hng, j-jus’ like that, eren.”

he’s rotating his hips on each downward grind so that the roof of his cock brushes against your gspot. your eyes flutter close before you burst them back open . . only for them to unconsciously close again. you’re beautiful.

been so long . . eren’s been holding in his feelings for you for so long that when he gets the chance to physically express them, it quickly becomes overwhelming for poor you. ‘cause you give a little squeal when he lets your wrists go to grab you by the backs of your knees, push them up into your tits until your soft tummy creases with plush rolls . . and start to full on sob when his momentum increases.

the clapping of your skin meeting his is loud . . it echos over the lo fi tunes that are now mindlessly playing on your pink beats pill and your fingers claw at soft viscose when you feel the fabric starting to rub against the skin of your ass and back. “oh my god,” your voice is caught between a hiccup, squeak, and gasp. “oh my . . g-god — eren, please.”

his jaw is clenched and his hair is wild — it frames a face of pure frustration. irises of darkened emerald are fixated on your pussy … on how plush and fat it is . . how it oozes pasty, thick cream the color of silvery white. eren even thinks he sees a few speckles of glitter in the mix, knows he shouldn’t be surprised because every fucking thing about you is pretty, perfect, and divine. “you’re a fuckin’ brat, y’know that?” he pants while his fingers wrap around your waist to grip onto and make you start to meet his pummels halfway. “ ‘say you love me, eren.’ you already know i fuckin’ do.”

you’re hiccuping and whimpering with one of your little hands gripping onto your bouncing tit while your other fingers occupy your empty, drooly mouth. “mm, d-don’t say that, eren.”

he doesn’t know why, but eren huffs a short laugh after you say that. maybe it’s in the tone of how you said it — all tiny, frail, and whimpery . . not an ounce of shock underlying the pitch. it’s like you’ve known this entire time; just been too scared to delve deep into it.

he drops himself down to your level — lets your legs go and leaves them dangling over his shoulders and his palms pressed flat beside your face. “think ‘m lyin’?” he whispers. his pace slows again. he lazily pulls his cock out until the tip is the only thing that stays nestled inside of you . . and slams back in . . then he’s slowly pulling out again and snapping back in again. “think i’d put up with your smart fuckin’ mouth all this time if i didn’t, hm?”

you sniffle, “fuck you.”

he hums, “mm. i know.”

your orgasm wasn’t that far off nor approaching it difficult. however, you can feel that this one was different, and you’ve spent enough time overstimming yourself with your favorite pink, self thrusting dildo during the peaks of early mornings to realize what was going to happen.

your pretty face screws up and you push at eren’s sculpted torso with weak fingers, “ ‘m gonna . . feels like ‘m gonna …”

eren can’t help but feel a tinge of excitement spark within the base of his gut . . because if what’s going to happen is what he thinks … “stop squirmin’.”

he lifts your legs higher until you’re practically folded in half. you’re left helpless in this position and his cock is pounding away at your pussy as if he couldn’t get enough of it. the closer the edge nears, the more you try to escape his grasp. “e-eren, seriously,” you’re sobbing out of too much pleasure if anything. “ ‘s so embarrassing — pull out!”

“better not fuckin’ move, _____.” you flinch at your full name leaving his lips. “let it out or it’s gonna be a problem.”

when his thumb finds the pulsing, puffy bud of your clit, it’s instantaneous. a flood of watery cum drains out of you in a rush of hard spouts. eren moans long and loud as if he could feel it too and keeps pounding you where you lay, obsessed with how your eyes stay rolled back inside your skull and how your entire body trembles until every little drip is forced out of you. “oh, fuck. good girl,” he groans. “so fuckin’ good. there you go.”

his arms slip underneath your back so that he can lift and gather you within his grasp. he’s hugging you and mumbling, “come back to me . . there you go. come back, pretty.”

you’re left sniffling and twitching, legs wrapped around his waist and your face nestled within his neck. so much . . you feel so much. but still, “don’t stop, eren. want more, gimmie more.”

he will. he most definitely fucking will.

tatted fingers grip the soft, plush meat of your ass when he adjusts his position — him seated with his back against the arm of the sofa and you on his lap. he doesn’t allow you to move a muscle, even still . . just grabs you by the ass, quite literally, and bounces you up and down on his dick without a single breath hitched. he’s just . . watching you, sometimes letting a whimpered curse slip out, but that’s neither here nor there. he’s just … focused on you.

and you want to crawl into a hole and just die because as much as you try to hold your sounds of bliss in or keep your facial expressions from morphing into ones showing how you truly feel, it doesn’t work. your head lolls along your shoulder as your mouth drops and tongue slips out when he touches that special, little bundle of nerves inside of you again. “mmm, my god,” you want to cry so you do. “daddy, please.”

immediate. eren’s going to cum. he’s going to fuckin— “holy shit.” dull fingernails dig into soft, doughy skin as his head throws back. tendons within his neck strain and pull taut while his balls draw up close to his body and he makes sure to seat you flushed up against him for when the first spurt of his hot, thick, potent cum shoots up into your womb. “uh huh . . f-fuck, take it all.”

you’re shocked upon realizing that eren starts to fuck up into you at an even quicker pace than before, leaving your frantic little hands to fly out and reach for his shoulders for something to hold onto. “ ‘s so much,” you’re whimpering on half a mind. “daddy, ‘s so much.” you can literally feel him filling you up. it’s addicting.

“ooh, i know,” eren brings you back in close and rubs the cheeks of your ass in slow, wide circles as he tries to catch his breath after he finally slows down. “i know, baby. i’m sorry. you just feel too good.”

you nuzzle your face against his chest and relax within his hold, finding yourself exhausted beyond compare. and because of that, they catch up to you slow — eren’s words. ’ “ say you love me, eren. “ you already know i fuckin’ do. ‘ “mm,” you whine and turn your face so that it’s pressed up against his heart between his pecs. “i cant believe you said that.”

“hm?” eren’s tapping the meat of your ass with his fingers absentmindedly. it takes a while for him to let realize it, too. “what? i love you?”

“yes,” you fight to curl into yourself. “that was …” you shyly take a peek up at him to see his eyes already focused on yours. his face is blank . . unreadable. “that was in the heat of the moment, right?”

his answer’s simple, “no.”

your heart drops.

“what?” surprisingly, eren begins to smile. “you don’t want me to love you? ‘cause i can stop—“

“—wait, no, no!” you cower upon realizing that you’ve cut him off mid sentence in a haste. his smile broadens. “i . . i didn’t say that.”

eren hums and lets his fingers drift a little lower to find your pussy still stretched along his cock. “yeah?” you soften up and give a little nod, glossy lips shaping around an ‘o’ as your eyes go half lidded. “uh huh.”

“and why shouldn’t i?”

he starts to grind your hips back and forth and your mouth drops. “because,” you mewl. “b-because . .”

eren mocks your tone, “because what?”

he’s so mean. you pout, “because eren!” there’s no question, beyond a shadow of a doubt, by all means that, “because i love you, too.”

eren smiles the hardest you’ve seen since you have met him. “is that right?”

you’re a whiny, little mess — pouting and sniffling with your big, round eyes blinking up into his, “you know i do.”

Permanent Mark IX: Mistakes

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings:  pregnancy, mentions of abortion, insecurities, mentions of cheating

Series Masterlist

“Sometimes, our mistakes come back to haunt us…”

“You don’t plan on working for your parent’s company?” Satoru asked you as you played with his hair. He’s laying on his stomach with his head on your chest, and his fingers caressing your thighs. It was raining outside and the sky looked so dark yet the brightness in his eyes as they bore into yours lit up every corner of your bedroom. It’s been 6 months since you started dating officially and the other day, your parents came over, accidentally meeting him for the first time.

They got a bit upset that you didn’t even tell them that you were in a serious relationship, especially your Mom who almost did an in-depth, complete background check on Satoru. You remember how she once told you that if you were going to get into a relationship, especially if it’s a serious one, make sure that your partner will not cause any shame or taint your name and the company. She can’t have you marrying ‘just anyone.’

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The suit+the androgynous accuracy is making tears fall down from my legs

Viii0_8 twitter

oh my

this look!!!

yeah ight.