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#flustered!reader
mellowwillowy · 2 months
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Yan! Butler who is always there to assist you in everything. From the morning your eyes flutter open to the night they flutter close, he is always there watching you.
Yan! Butler who does not leave the room as the servants help you refresh, from the bathroom to the dressing table, his eyes glued on you. The petals that hug your body as they rinse you, the comb that is weaved up and down to style your hair, and the way they attend you to dressing up.
Yan! Butler who is respectful enough to be as immobile as he stared right in your eyes, gaze unwavering by the fact that you were stripped bare.
But who were you but someone oblivious to the way he jerked his cock onto your face as you dozed off to the dreamscape? Your steady breath fanning his cock, your teeth rubbed against his tip and your mouth forced open to take his load.
He was respectful enough to not violate you, just yet. Tonight, he was content enough with his hand and your face. Perhaps he would indulge himself with your mouth next and soon, your hole.
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ryukatters · 8 months
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Something about Bakugo being nosy just sits so right with me. It’s canon that he’s often listening in on conversations (even if participants of said conversations are unaware of his presence) so I imagine when he likes you he tends to hover around you just a little bit more.
You could be talking to Ashido and Kaminari in the common room and Bakugo will be there. Maybe not necessarily near you, not even looking at you. He’s off on the opposite side of the room, and he’s so uncharacteristically quiet that you could forget he was there in the first place.
You mention offendedly how you miss your favorite drink and snack from that one cafe near the heart of Musutafu, being too busy with your work study to find the time to visit.
A few days later, you hear a knock on your door. You’re met with a plastic bag with the very same food and drink combination you had just told your friends about the other day. Your eyes trail the arm and hand holding it and see Bakugo with a pinched look on his face.
“‘s for you,” he grumbles, head turned to the side as his signature scowl deepens. If you looked any closer, you’d clearly be able to see the blush accentuating his cheeks and ears. 
“Thank you, Bakugo,” you take the bag with a smile, and Katsuki has to keep from shuddering when your fingertips accidentally brush his. “Why don’t you come in so we can share?”
Bakugo is nosy, but if it means being able to share stolen moments (and bites of food) with you, then it’s totally worth it.
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seiwas · 3 days
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you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.
among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.
they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.
(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)
“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.
you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.
he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.
“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”
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the things you do for love ; satoru gojo
synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.
word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3
a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress
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”— no.”
the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.
but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.
”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”
”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”
”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”
”not happening.”
”but —”
”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”
and it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 
but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 
under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.
(his happiness is your priority, after all.)
but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.
he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.
”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”
a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 
he can’t be serious. 
you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.
— it’s so frilly. 
you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 
it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 
every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.
from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.
(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 
i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)
a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 
buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 
(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)
which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 
to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.
— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 
the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —
you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 
if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 
but no — he wanted you to wear it. 
and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.
”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”
”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.
”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 
sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.
the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.
a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 
”— because you love me?” 
satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.
and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 
valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”
”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 
(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)
”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”
satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 
until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.
”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.
”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.
and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 
but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.
satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.
and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 
”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 
attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 
it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 
”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”
”an hour? no way!” you scoff.
and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.
”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”
”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”
”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”
oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 
not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 
another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”
satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”
a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”
”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”
another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”
satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”
a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.
”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”
”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”
the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.
”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”
he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.
(even if you don’t.)
and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 
and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.
— a sigh. 
you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 
… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 
and if it’s just for a short while…
silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.
”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”
”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 
and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.
”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 
he looks so earnestly giddy.
eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.
(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)
”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.
”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.
a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…
”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.
”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 
”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”
satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.
you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”
”— i’m taking pictures.”
the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.
”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”
”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”
stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.
”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”
you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”
”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.
(what have you gotten yourself into?)
with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”
”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”
”yeah, yeah…”
the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.
(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)
and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 
it’s a perfect fit. 
a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.
after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 
and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.
it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 
and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 
still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.
(what the hell are you even doing?)
a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?
(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 
”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.
”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”
satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.
(all he can think of is you, you, you.)
curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.
you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.
when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.
 ”… i don’t want to.”
satoru pauses. 
he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.
”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”
you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”
a moment passes.
”… do i have to?”
the corners of his lips curl up.
ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”
a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.
until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.
it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.
(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)
there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 
and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.
after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”
— but satoru doesn’t answer. 
he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.
the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 
(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 
still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 
”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 
the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 
he’s completely stunned. 
no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 
and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.
crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.
”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 
upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.
— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.
it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.
god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.
crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 
even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.
and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 
yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.
he’s so cute.
(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)
so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.
and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.
”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”
satoru stiffens. 
(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)
slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 
with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 
satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.
a moment passes. then two.
then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.
”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”
a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 
a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.
all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.
evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 
”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 
squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 
a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”
”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.
”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”
a huff, lighthearted. 
suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.
your heart flutters. 
satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 
”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”
a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”
”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”
before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.
”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”
a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”
satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.
(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)
”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 
it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.
”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 
”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 
then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.
his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 
(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)
then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.
his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 
”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.
he’s so annoying. 
(but you’re far too in love to say no.)
so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.
satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.
when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.
”cutie.”
you blink. 
averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.
”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”
suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”
”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”
”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.
”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 
”and then we’re burning it.”
”noooo!” 
”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.
”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”
”that’s kinda the point, toru.”
”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”
he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.
”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”
a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”
”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”
”at lil’ old me? really?”
”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”
satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”
a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”
a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.
”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”
”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”
”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.�� he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”
and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 
satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.
in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 
eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.
satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 
and yours, wholly and thoroughly.
(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…
what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)
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cashmoneyyysstuff · 6 months
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katsuki likes to bite you. it’s his weird way of showing you affection. whenever he feels like annoying you (because he can’t live for more than ten seconds if he’s not being a nuisance) but he also wants to you to know he cares, he’ll find whatever part of your skin is exposed and just—bite.
you don’t remember when he started doing it but you’ve never stopped him so he hasn’t stopped. he bites your exposed shoulder when hes walking by and your lounging in the living area of the dorms, he grabs your hand and bites at your fingers when you’re alone and he bites at your cheeks and nose when you get mad at him for ‘being mean’ and teasing you. to which he always replies with “you love it.”
“why do you do that ?” you asked randomly after he bit your cheek again while you were watching a movie in his room. he looks down at you and his brows furrow in confusion “ do what ?” he asks.
“ bite me,” you play with the ends of his hair a little, it’s been getting longer and he’ll complain about it soon(the only reason he hasn’t cut it yet is because you said it looked good on him) “ why do you that ?” he goes quiet for a moment, gauging to see if you were upset, was it suddenly bothering you ?
he frowns. lips already unconsciously forming into a pout when he speaks “ ya don’t like it when i do ?” he tries to sound self assured, but his question comes out whiny. you smile lightly at him, nosing at the underside of his jaw. “it’s not that, dummy. just wonder why you do it.”
his nose scrunches at the nickname but he pays it no further mind. he huffs out a little breath and looks away from you towards the tv screen, a pink tint grows on his cheeks. having to tell you why he does it suddenly makes him embarrassed.
“jus’ feel like it. f’ya don’t mind when i do it why’re you questioning me about it.” you feel his hand heat up from where he has it pressed against your stomach under your shirt, no doubt getting more and more embarrassed having to explain why he has this weird little habit.
you shrug, sighing and nuzzling into him a little more. you press a light peck to his neck and his hand heating up even more makes you smile “i don’t mind it, just never had anyone bite me before.”
“good” he huffs, suddenly pressing you closer to his side. a sudden rush of protectiveness washing over him “get used to it. m’the only one who’s gonna be doing that from now on, got that ?”
“alright” you giggle. you suddenly get an idea and you look up at him. “you wouldn’t mind it if i bit you, then ?” a teasing smirk appears on your face when he almost cracks his neck when looking down at you, wide eyed and cheeks absolutely set ablaze. he sputters and looks away, unable to keep eye contact as he looks to the screen again.
“knock yourself out.” he tries to sound indifferent but his voice cracks a little at the end of his sentence and he cranes his neck to the side a bit to give you more access. you don’t mention either. instead you lean closer to him and nip at his neck lightly. his hold on you tightens for a moment before loosening up slightly and he suddenly won’t look at you anymore. not even when you laugh and poke at his cheek, asking him what’s got him so red in the face. his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are so laser focused on the tv you fear he might burn a hole through it. he offers you nothing more than a harsh glare and a muttered out “shush.”
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notsunnyowo · 9 days
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Iᖴ YOᑌ ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗷEᗩT TᕼEᗰ - ᒍOIᑎ 'Eᗰ
Part 2
Summary: Gojo Satoru is known for being a flirt, but what happens when he gets a taste of his own medicine?
Content: Fluff, Flirt! Gojo, Female! Reader (AFAB), Gojo getting flustered, Teen! Gojo x Teen! Reader (Reader is the same age as Gojo)
Word Count: 778
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It was well known that the infamous head of the Gojo-clan was a huge flirt. And understandably so. He was a striking young man with good looks that could rival the ones of even the Greek gods. Not to mention the personality to match.
He was a cocky little bastard. Always using his good-looks to his advantage. Didn't feel like paying the regular price for a double scooping of ice cream? - He'd just charm the vendor into giving him a "customer discount". Wanted to get into the VIP lounge of some club? - No problem. One wink, paired with a flirty comment towards the security was all it took for him to waltz right in like he owned the place.
Everyone knew he liked having things his way. After all, no one had ever opposed the strongest. And gotten away with it at least-
You supposed that's what ultimately resulted in his unique personality. . .
His boyish charm worked on almost anyone.
Except you.
There were only a handful of people that could resist Satoru's charming attitude and you were one of them. And for some reason it only made you a target more than everyone else.
But could you really blame Satoru for wanting to make the cute new girl wrapped around his fingers?
He just found you so interesting (not to mention adorable) whenever you rolled your eyes at his flirty pick-up line, brushing him off as if he wasn't the Satoru Gojo.
You were absolutely perfect.
One could only imagine the look on his face when you actually responded to his flirty comments.
"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?" Satoru spoke in his usual charming tone as he leaned over your desk. "Don't you have someone else to bother Gojo?" Raising your head from the book you were reading, Satoru was met with your unamused expression. Letting out a dramatic sigh, Satoru answered. "No. Suguru's out on a mission and Yaga-sensei called Shoko to his office not too long ago. Said something about practicing for a medical exam, whatever that means." "Which means that you, sweet girl, get to spend the evening with yours truly." He added, flashing you his signature boyish grin. Rolling your eyes at his comment, you said sarcastically. "Gee. How lucky am I?" Grinning like the dork he was, Satoru completely dismissed your unenthusiastic tone and simply carried on with his 'speech'. "Don't get too excited now. I wouldn't want Suguru getting jealous." "But then again- Who wouldn't get jealous over the lovely little lady that gets to spend the evening with me?" He continued on with his 'speech'. Letting out a defeated sigh, you looked up at the white haired sorcerer. What was that old saying again? If you can't beat them - join 'em. "Y'know what.." You spoke up, capturing Satoru's attention. "You're absolutely right." "Oh?" The boy hummed, raising a brow at your response. Had he finally gotten to you? "Definitely." You chirped, shifting in your seat. "Heh, I knew you'd see it eventually." Gojo commented, his cocky grin resurfacing once more. "After all, it was only a matter of time till you fell for m-" His words were suddenly cut off by your hand tugging his shirt and getting him down to your level. Cerulean eyes meeting yours, Satoru could feel his heart picking up its pace at your close proximity. His breath hitched as he saw you lean in, till your noses were almost touching. "What's wrong, pretty boy?" You cooed, your grin matching the one on his face just a few moments ago. "Cat got your tongue?" There were no words to describe how fast Satoru's heart was beating in that very moment. Nor how lightheaded your words, and actions, made him feel. If his blood pressure didn't kill him you would. For once in his entire life. Satoru was left speechless. Chuckling at the flustered state you'd left him, you gently patted his rosy cheek with one hand, before pulling away. "Y'know Gojo.. You're not as bad when you shut up." You said, offering him a cheeky smile. "You should consider letting your face do all the talking next time." "Chao~" Once you were out of the room and Satoru couldn't sense your cursed energy any more, he let out an embarrassed groan as he raised a hand to cover his flushed features. He glanced back at the door you'd walked through a minute earlier as he muttered to himself, hand covering his mouth. "What a woman.~"
After that little fiasco, Satoru was never the same.
He had a new goal in his mind. Get the new girl to do that to him again.
Author Note:
OMG I did not expect my previous post to blow up this much-
THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!! <3
Also, I hope you enjoyed reading this lil' fanfic!
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selineram3421 · 2 months
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*spaced out*
Courting Pursuit
Part 1
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Prologue
Alastor X Deer Reader
Warnings ⚠
⚠ (gn) gender neutral reader, mule deer reader, assuming alastor is a marsh deer, flustered alastor, Spanish translated, food mention-not specific, italics= thoughts, mentions of dismemberment ⚠
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You had gotten Alastor's attention after that peck on the forehead.
It annoyed him though.
How dare some demon think to kiss him, the frightening Radio Demon, who slaughtered other Overlords to get to the top. He should be feared!
But after that day all you did was give him gentle smiles and what he assumes are compliments in Spanish. He's had to get a dictionary to translate them, not wanting to go to Vaggie every time.
After learning how to properly translate in his radio tower, he's left with a flushed face.
Damn that sleepy eyed deer- He huffs and tosses the book away.
Then he starts to notice more things about you. Mostly because he's trying to figure out a way to get you back for daring to touch him.
You look sleepy, almost all the time.
Noticing how strong you are when you lift one of the couches for Niffty to clean under it. How big your antlers are and how often you have to lower your head in order to enter a room without hitting your antlers on the door frame. Damn Angel for pointing out your big build and chest.
A button has shot out and broken a glass at the bar, the thread having finally snapped from the constant tension.
"Holy shit!", Angel laughed and turned to the white haired demon. "Hey vagina! You owe me a twenty!"
He learned the proper shirt size for you so that it wouldn't happen again.
Then he's noticed that you like to stand near him when given the chance. Sitting on the chair next to him when having dinner with everyone, sometimes following him to the bar, and then watching him cook.
It annoys him.
You still don't fear him.
Another night, another meal to be made and you're watching him cook again. The Radio Demon finally speaks up about your presence in the kitchen.
"If you aren't going to contribute in making the food, then leave.", he glances over his shoulder with a slight glare.
The mule deer stays leaning against the door frame for a second longer before pushing themselves off, walking over while rolling up their sleeves.
"Te ayudaré." (I will help you.)
It is quiet in the kitchen, save for the occasional ask for spices and other ingredients.
You are quite skilled with a knife.
He watches from the corner of his eye as you mince the vegetables.
After everything is done, you get the plates and set them down on the counter before starting to serve some the food one one of them.
"Who are you serving?", he questions.
You don't reply, instead you finish piling food on the plate before offering it to him with the same smile you always show him.
"Eat."
The Radio Demon was confused but took the plate anyway. It was the cook that ate last, it's always been that way.
"I don't really understand why you served me first. The others are in the dining room.", he said.
Before he could put his plate down, you stopped him and gave him a utensil.
"Please, eat. Has trabajado duro, así que come y relájate. Yo serviré.", you flashed another smile and gathered up the other food filled plates, balancing them on your arms as you made your way over to the door. (You have worked hard, so eat and relax. I will serve.)
He stood there as he watched you leave the room, taking a glance at the plate in his hands.
What exactly were you trying to do?
Later in the week, Alastor decided to pay a visit to Rosie and brought some food that you had made after finding out where he was going.
He sat on one of the arm chairs as the woman across from him complimented your food.
"I need advise for a problem."
The black eyed woman lifted a brow.
"You? Now this must be something good. You never ask for advise unless something has really stumped ya.", she said and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
"It's about that mule deer I brought with me last time, the hotel guest.", his smile strained slightly. "I don't understand why aren't scared of me like other sinners. Hell, even the Princess knows to be wary of me but the damn demon just smiles at me."
This gets her attention and she sits up a bit straighter.
"Go on.."
"Not only that, they dare to peck me on the forehead.", he looks away. "I hate that they aren't afraid. They sit close to me, compliment me, follow me around sometimes, helped me in the kitchen just a few days ago. Served me a plate even!", he raised a hand up in annoyance. "I've ripped demons apart in front of them but they still act so strangely around me! I don't understand! Why are they so odd!?"
Rosie laughs as she places her elbow on the arm rest, leaning her chin in the palm of her hand, wearing a knowing smile.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're being courted."
Alastor turned to look at his friend.
"A what now?"
You..courting him?
How absurd! Laughable even.
"Hahahaha!", he wiped a tear away. "I didn't think you'd make such a ridiculous joke, ha.."
The woman crossed her arms and stared him down with a look.
"Surely you jest.", he says.
Rosie sighs and stands from her seat. "Dear old friend, what are the ways to court or show interest in a person?"
"Ah..well. You know I've never-", he begins but is cut off.
"The most popular ways to court someone are to give the person of their interest compliments, attention, gifts, acts of service, and often treated in a respectable manner.", she lists off and she walks over to stand next to his chair. "And the oh so famous line of reaching a person's heart is through their stomach.", she says and pokes his mid section. "It sounds a lot like what that big darling deer is doing for you."
Alastor left, not knowing what else to say after his friend laid out the evidence so plainly for him to see. Once he arrived back at the hotel, he noticed the mule deer sleeping in the lobby on one of the couches.
"Everyone else is asleep in their rooms.", Husk spoke up fron the bar.
The spider demon is at the bar drinking a maroon liquid from a martini glass in his hand.
"Why are they..here?", the Radio Demon gestures to you.
"Said something about making sure to welcome you when you got back. I don't know why they'd want to though.", the cat demon serves himself a drink.
"Gentle Giant is real sweet, that's why.", Angel places his cup on the bar counter. "Damn, I'd want some hot demon to welcome me back home.", he says before leaning closer to the bartender. "Oh Husk~"
Husk just rolls his eyes and drinks his alcohol.
"They gotta sleep in their room. The couch is not that comfortable.", Husk mentions.
Not too long later, the two demons at the bar leave to go to their rooms to retire for the night.
Alastor now left with the task of waking you up.
He goes over and places a hand on your shoulder, beginning to shake you slightly.
"Wake up. You have to go to your room.", he says.
You slowly blink your eyes open and stare at him for a second. Then that soft dopey smile forms on your face.
"Bienvenido de nuevo.", you mumbled out. (Welcome back.)
". . . . . . . . ."
Shit.
He made sure you didn't hit anything on your way back to your room. Immediately walking away after your door closes to think over a few things.
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Fun fact: Female deer can also have antlers but it is very rare and only occurs when there is a hormonal imbalance of testosterone/regulation issues.
~Seline, the person.
Part 2
Taglist@
@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @repentant-repeller @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @wat4r @lustylita @sleep-7372 @+?
ML II Alastor🎙 | CP ChL🦌
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aangelfreckles · 6 months
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He's looking at ya :)
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kenananamin · 7 months
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Nanami seeing you in a sundress
this is the first time i’m writing about Nanami so be kind pls 😭 i just have so many scenarios in my brain and want to get them out lol
NSFW? it gets a little… spicy 🤭 not too much spice, just Nanami’s imagination
It’s summer and with the days getting hotter and hotter, you bring out your sundresses. They’re light, airy, and perfect for most of the things you do. And not to mention, Nanami loves the way you look in them. Now, he loves your usual attire! You could wear a long and thick winter jacket and he would still long for you the same way. But a sundress?! Oh god, the way the longer sundresses flow around you and hug your legs and ass with a gust of wind. The way the shorter sundresses ride up a bit when you sit or walk a faster pace than usual. He won’t ever tell you (at least yet since the relationship is fairly new), but he loves when you bend over in a short sundress.
He watches you bend to grab the bag of chips on the lower cupboard and he can’t help but think about his hands running up and down your thighs. Up your thighs, around your waist and to the front of your dress to the little bow holding the top of the dress together.
He would press his body into you and push you against him to hold the bottom of your dress on your hips, enough to feel your bare thighs and ass on his clothed thighs. He’d move his hands back to the little bow and pull it undone. He knew you wouldn’t wear a bra with these dresses, he could make out the small nipple pasties on the very tight dresses.
He’d open the front as much as he could and look over your shoulder to see you spill out over your dress. You’d shyly pull your shoulders forward and he would press you back against him to see you… or maybe you’d turn around and run your hands down his torso while pulling him into a kiss.
God, he wants to see you that way, touch you like that and hear any sounds that come from your pretty little mouth. Those pretty dresses would end up bunched up on your waist for a round or two before he fully removed it. Those dresses would end up dirty on the floor by the time he was done—
“Nanami?”
He’s quickly pulled out of his fantasy. “I’m sorry?”
You smile and repeat your question, “Regular, salt and vinegar or chili chips?”
“Umm, whichever. They’re all good, I’ll eat whichever you want.”
You notice his chest moving a bit quicker than before and smile again before you turn around for the bigger bowls. You saw him looking through the reflection on the stove and maybe you bent down a bit further than needed.
Nanami grabs the blanket on the couch edge with the excuse of getting comfortable for the movie. Absolutely not to hide something growing in his pants, nope nope. You head back to the couch, moving your hips a bit more to let your short dress sway. You sit on the couch and you make sure your dress sat higher up your thighs and near your ass.
Nanami shifts in his seat and extends the blanket over your legs and passes you the remote.
I dont think we’re getting through this movie, you both think.
You and Nanami look at each other. Nanami smirks and you smile a bit reaching into the bowl.
This should be fun.
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sanjisblackasswife · 9 months
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Thinking about College Student Gojo in class constantly getting distracted by you sitting beside him during class.
One stripe, two stripes, his eyes were mesmerized by how your slightly puckered lips poked outwards as you applied your gloss as you looked at your tiny mirror at your desk.
It was so pretty in his mind.
You were so pretty.
Not having his infinity on, but somehow you still felt his sharp blue eyes on your left side. Not moving your position, but pausing to shift your eyes to meet his under his dark shades, you hum, “Want some, Sato?” Playfully offering the lipgloss wand to him, Your voice sounding as sweet as the mochi he ate prior to class, Gojo couldn’t help but to.
“You’re good at that.”
“Thank you, Sato…I pride myself into making sure my lips ain’t dry.”
You speak so sarcastically with him he damn near forgets his next words, his mind going through a thousand thoughts,
how pretty those colors mix on your supple lips, how you use your acrylic pinky nail to remove the excess gloss from your lower lip.
How soft they would feel.
“Maybe one day you’ll take me up on my offer.” The sound of the lip gloss snapping shut cleared Gojo of his thoughts. He breathlessly chuckles,
“What? You’re saying my lips are dry?”
Before you answer you hear the commotion of other students and teacher emerging in one by one. You both give one last glance at each other until you look away to greet Geto and Shoko, but Gojo still had his blue eyes on your side profile, nibbling on his lower lip.
“Hey, Satoru.” His best friend pats his shoulder to sit beside him. “Are you blushing—“
“LET ME—copy your notes. I forgot again.” Satoru raised his voice, eyeing a now confused Suguru while he takes out his notepad.
It’s embarrassing how you make him feel, so effortlessly.”
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xythlia · 10 months
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thinking about cockwarming one of the brothers (asmo or mams) while doing your nails or vice versa 🫣
𓏲 ࣪₊ warnings: cockwarming, use of pussy/cunt/clit, teasing, nail painting, being called cute, creampie, sloppy sex
feedback \ rbs are appreciated ♡
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"Ah, I told you to stop squirming so much," you teased, wiggling your fingers over your shoulder to show Mammon the smudged polish on your cuticles.
Your laugh dropped to a groan feeling his hips buck against your ass, the weight of him inside you shifting as he whined. Biting your lip to hold back you shifted your hips as your eyes drifted back to the bottle of polish on your desk.
Mammons breathy groans made your skin clammy, desperate to have him touch you but you couldn't walk back your restrictions now. He had to learn to be patient, and apparently so did you. Still, a little teasing never hurts so with each drag of the brush against your nails your cunt squeezed around him, mapping every vein and feeling his cock throb in response.
"You think you're so cute, don't ya?" He panted through gritted teeth, fingers digging into your hips.
"Yeah, so do you-"
Before the quip made it all the way past your lips you moaned feeling his lithe fingers against your clit.
"You're right, I think you're so- fuckin- cute," he growled through gritted teeth, ignoring your squeak of protest as he rose, still inside you, and placed a hand firmly on your lower back to keep you pressed to the desks surface.
Your mouth dropped open as he slowly pulled out before slamming back inside you, making your body jerk against the wood. Mammon set a deep, rough pace and as your hands scrambled to hold on to something the bottle of polish clanked to the floor, forgotten.
He helped you get one leg bent against the desk, giving him a better angle and making tears floor your lower lash line. His fingers danced smooth, rhythmic circles around your clit in time with every thrust and it made your breathing hitch.
The desk rattled, suddenly feeling rickety against the onslaught of movement and for a moment you imagined it breaking beneath you. You didn't get to linger on the thought for long with white hot pleasure burning fast through your bloodstream and shooting straight to your brain.
As your legs shook all you could do was babble his name, cries of harder, more; it spurred him on until his thrusts became bruising and sloppy, one hand massaging your ass cheek.
"You look even cuter like this ya know," he bent to whisper against the shell of your ear, body pressed hot against yours as you felt thick, warm cum flood your cunt.
If your brain wasn't feeling like jello you'd tell him he was absolutely adorable when he was all worked up.
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specshroom · 3 months
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I want to smother him.
I want to be clingy and overbearing with him but only in private, like the personal solitude of his room.
I want to cling to him as he lays in bed, trying to do something else like read or play a game.
I want to mold myself into his side, kissing his neck, stroking his chest, rubbing my legs against his.
I want to distract him with my affection. I want him to become flustered at the stark contrast between public and private affection and how he's the only one who knows there is a difference in the first place.
When I tease him about being flustered and he tries to push me away with his hand out of embarrassment, I want to grab it and kiss his fingers all the way down his arm.
I want him to give in despite being embarrassed. I want to kiss all over his face as he huffs in defeat after the rather pathetic attempt at a struggle.
I want to mumble a little "I love you s'much" into his warm cheek as the skin heats up even more at the confession and my lips on his skin.
I want him to have an internal struggle, trying to man up and say it back. Only to weakly mumble out, "Whatever." as he places his hand over his bright red face.
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ijustwantcuddless · 4 months
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so i had a thought.
i love this trend and these made me laugh because i immediately thought 'this is def how ellie and abby would react to this trend' lmfao.
ellie:
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abby:
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anyways, thank you for coming to my ted talk 🏃🏽‍♀️💨 *scadaddles*
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i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo
synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.
word count; 4.9k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33
a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…
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when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.
it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.
a yawn slips from his lips.
the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.
and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? 
satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.
so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 
hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. 
it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.
because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.
(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)
the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him. 
it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.
satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy. 
everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.
satoru blinks, drowsily.
wait.
why is the kitchen light still on?
as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice. 
yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 
ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 
as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.
you’re asleep.
satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.
everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. 
the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —
but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.
satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.
you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.
satoru grins.
(you’re so cute.)
despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.
satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.
yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.
a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.
satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.
so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.
the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.
“baby…” 
satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.
blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.
then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”
a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up. leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.
satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. 
it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.
and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.
“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.
stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”
all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.
“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.” 
satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.
“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”
he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”
another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”
satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.
“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”
no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.
and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.
the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t.
having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —
well. that’s neither here nor there.
(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.
but that was many, many springs ago.)
“oh, right.”
at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”
with a single step back, you look up at him. tilting your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”
“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”
satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.
someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.
but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. 
“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”
one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.
“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”
a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.
satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.
“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”
satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.
he blinks.
the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.
and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.
childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —
maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.
”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”
satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 
he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”
a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.
for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 
you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.
for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 
(something about this is just too tender.)
you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.
as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.
and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 
but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?
the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 
”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.
one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 
then you speak. ”you did well.”
and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.
he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 
it’s so weird. you’re so weird.
(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)
it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?
what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?
satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.
(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 
really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)
no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.
it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.
really. isn’t he being too coddled?
(… but it feels so nice.)
satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.
maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.
depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…
— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.
and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.
satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.
try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.
and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.
”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”
”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”
a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”
the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.
but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.
when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.
you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 
(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)
he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”
an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.
”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”
then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 
satoru looks at you for a second. 
then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.
the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.
then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.
you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.
when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.
and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.
(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)
after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.
”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”
at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.
”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 
another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”
this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.
he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.
and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.
your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.
a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.
”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”
a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”
a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.
”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”
”so what if i did?”
satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 
but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 
satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”
then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 
licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —
”— no.”
a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.
satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”
”no.”
”but they’re for me!”
”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”
”i am!”
”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”
satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”
”— then no.”
another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.
”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”
he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.
(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)
he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 
and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 
maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.
as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.
(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)
that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.
he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:
good. wholly and thoroughly.
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bakubunny · 5 months
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you said you wouldn't post more werewolf!bakugo x bunny hybrid!reader, but i said no such thing ;)
( •̀ ω •́ )✧
werewolf!bakugo, who, every rut cycle, has to go "on a camping trip" to the woods. he normally leaves his pet bunny hybrid at home, sparing her the burden of having to deal with him. he doesn't want to scare her more than he already does. doesn't want his cute little bunny to fear for her life. and he knows there are instincts he has, more primal and hungry, that he might not be able to ignore if she comes along.
werewolf!bakugo, who makes one too many mistakes the next time his rut is coming. gets a little too snippy with his cute little bunny. makes her run away because he's yelling and snarling too much. he thinks, "good, i'll apologize when i come back and it's done". but he forgets to check the backseat of his truck. thinks the overwhelming smell of her in the car is just from all the rides she's taken with him there, amplified by his instincts.
werewolf!bakugo, who finally realizes his mistake when it's far too late to turn around. he shoves his poor little bunny in a room of her own in the cabin, tell her not to leave no matter what she hears, tells her to lock the door. it's a good thing he had at least some foresight, because there are latches lining the threshold.
bunny hybrid!reader, who's a good girl. she doesn't move a muscle. not even when she hears her master howling through the night in the adjacent room. not even when she hears the sound of chains — likely used to keep bakugo in place — rattling loud before they're ripped from the wall. not even when she hears the faux gentle knocks on her door followed by heavy pounding and demands to let her master in.
bunny hybrid!reader, who feels her heartrate increase when the door begins to rattle, shake, and splinter. she's shivering in fear (in anticipation?) when it all suddenly goes quiet. she can only hear the pounding of her heart, the rasp of her breath...
...and the window sliding open.
"ya forgot to lock this one, bunny"
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a/n: i just came across a popular post where people were complaining abt too much bunny x werewolf stuff in general, so i guess if this somehow reaches that corner of the internet, this is my first real foray into this trope so don’t @ me for being in love with it ok?
eta: original werewolf kats post
neon’s gonna take me out with this istg fam. also we’re going to pretend for a moment that a ripped, 7ft+ werewolf can fit thru a window.
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his voice sounded strange, lower and rougher than usual, hungry. you knew better than to ignore him.
“s-s-sorry, k-katsuki. i-i'm sorry,” you sputtered.
you weren’t sure what to expect as the whistle of the wind filtered in with the rumble of katsuki’s chest on his every breath. big, clawed hands pulled his massive frame through the window. you cowered and pulled into yourself as you sat on the bed he’d provided you with.
standing in front of you was a creature you didn’t recognize, one that looked more like a wolf on two legs, a human covered in ash blonde fur. he was at least two feet taller than you with patches of fur that were lighter on his chest and face. his teeth were bared as he snarled, nose scrunched along his muzzle. a growl stirred in his chest as he stared you down with crimson eyes. what was left of the binding on his wrists he’d tried to use to keep himself fell to the floor with a loud clunk. he stalked towards you, glare unwavering.
“p-please don’t be mad,” you said. "please don't h-"
katsuki’s fist flew towards your as he growled angrily, lips curled. he grabbed you by the face. you flinched, eyes shut tight. his grip was firm as one of his claws pressed painfully into your cheek, but you were unharmed.
sailva quickly built up around his bottom lip. a long, dark tongue dipped out to lick them. "don't you dare. i would never hurt ya. you should know that much by now."
your heart raced, a cold sweat on your skin as he stood there and watched you tremble in fear. instincts screamed at you to run, run, run. your stomach twisted into a tight knot of cramps from his scent; you couldn't pin it down but it was strong. but your brain, the last to follow, told you that katsuki was safe. so you froze.
“s-sorry, i’m sorry i didn’t know you - you-” your eyes scanned over his form again, terrifyingly strong and foreign.
“i know. i wasn’t gonna tell ya. but secret’s out now cause ya just had to sneak into the truck, didn’t ya? couldn’t just listen to me the first time like a good little bunny cause ya thought i was mad. what did you plan on doin’ once ya got here and i found out, huh? try n’ snuggle your way outta me bein’ all pissy like you usually do? ‘s a little different when ya don’t know what you’re gettin’ into, baby bun.”
katsuki studied your face as he licked his lips again, drooling by the time he did. “i know ya don’t get it all the time, but i’m tryin’ to keep ya safe. you’re lucky your first heat hasn’t hit yet… but-” he pushed his muzzle close to your neck and sniffed a little. his grip tightened painfully as he took in a deep breath and growled low in his chest.
“that’s about to change, ain’t it?”
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@dcsiremc @zazter-den
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7ndipity · 5 months
Note
Helloooo! I feel a little shy asking this, but what are your nsfw yoongi head cannons?? 🙈🙈
Yoongi Nsfw Headcanons
Yoongi x Reader
Warnings: 18+ mndi, smut. Mentions of bondage, oral(m. and f. receiving), pegging, unprotected sex
A/N: *shaky breath* y-yeah sure, we can talk about those…😳
Masterlist
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He’s a lil bit of a pleasure dom, he absolutely loves watching you writhe and squirm beneath him. Nothing gets him off more than knowing that he’s the one making you feel good, that it’s his touch, his body that’s bringing you to the brink of bliss over and over again. Even on the days when he lets you take the lead, he needs you to tell him how good you’re feeling.
He’s not that into extra things like toys or bondage. Y’all tried a few things like cuffs and sensory deprivation, but it’s just not quite his thing(tho he does enjoy pinning your hands while teasing you with a vibrator sometimes). It just seems like a lot of extra work when he much prefers being able to touch and see each other freely.
Also not the most vocal in bed. He usually tries to keep quiet so he can hear all the little noises you make, sticking to low grunts and curses that shift into louder, airy moans right before he cums.(tho, he definitely gets louder/whinier when you ride him or tease him as you jerk him off)
Loves when you ride him so he can watch you more easily, also because then he has his hands free to touch and tease you all he wants.
As I said in my fwb list, he basically lives part-time between your legs, the man’s lowkey obsessed with eating you out. Like, he certainly won’t turn down head if you’re offering, but he really prefers giving. Likes it when you sit on his face, looking up at you the whole time as he pushes you over the edge with his tongue.
Loves sleepy morning sex. Just the idea of waking up and immediately needing each other makes him so soft(at least emotionally). He loves the slow, lazy touches, the tired, almost wordless communication between the two of you, it just all feels so much more intimate to him.
Aa I also said before, he really, really loves makeout sessions. It doesn’t matter if it’s leading to anything more or not(though oftentimes it does), just kissing you for the sake of it, hands tracing and feeling all over, tongues sliding together messily as you exchange breaths, it’s his idea of heaven.
(He also has a major weak spot for neck kisses. If you suck on his neck while riding him, he will fucking ascend)
He wants to be pegged. He might not admit it for a while, potentially ever unless you bring it up, cause he’s a little shy about it and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable if it’s not something you’re into, but he really just wants you to fold him up like he does you and pound him into a daze.
Lowkey has a thing for marking you with his cum? Like it’s not a full on kink, but something about cumming inside you and filling you up just scratches something primal in his brain that he can’t quite explain and fills him with this pride and satisfaction and just ‘Mine’.
Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @captainorangegoose @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz
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