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padfootastic · 2 years

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so, for s&h sarurday, we’ve got outsider pov of mob boss sirius and a bunch of scary looking mafia underlings showing up to a school play with inconspicuous weapons to see kiddie harry dressed as a tree. confusion & ‘oh my god the boss has a what?’ ensues. slightly crack-y.

Clark Forrest hadn’t planned on going into this line of work, not when he’d graduated with an honours degree in Business Administration. But the economy was…not doing great, bills had to be paid, and he knew someone who knew someone who had very enthusiastically hooked him up with this job so here he was.

Applying his hard earned education to being the accountant for a mob boss.

If only his poor mum, may the Lord bless her soul, could see him now. She’d faint right back into her grave.

To his boss—Mr. Black’s—credit, he wasn’t that kind of mafia, the one with the indiscriminate killing and plucking toenails off and kidnapping children. Clark was sure there was some kind of…illicit activity going on - he wouldn’t be a mob boss if there wasn’t, would he? - but he hadn’t seen anything of the sort as of now, so he could happily go on believing nothing was amiss.

Well, unless you counted the occasional blood on the rug.

That - was clearly one of the more, uh, colourful activities Mr. Black engaged in. He tried not to think hard about it. It could always be red wine?

Was it really a surprise then, that Clark thought it would be something similar, when almost the entire, er, gang was called in for an important meeting?

“Alright, this one’s important so listen up,” Mr. Black ordered.

Now, here’s the thing. For those who hadn’t seen the man, it would’ve been very hard to picture the kind of—aura he had. Outwardly, he was attractive, almost unnaturally so, with high cheekbones, a sculpted nose, grey eyes that were known to inject terror into the hearts of the toughest of men. His hair was cropped close to his head, and he had jewellery pierced through his entire right ear. Tattoos ran down the length of his arms, creeping up the hem of his shirt to skirt around his jaw, peeks of ink around the ankle when he walked.

He looked dangerous, yes. No one would dispute that.

But he didn’t—feel dangerous. Not at first.

Because Sirius Black had an accent as posh as the Queen, with a pleasant smile adorning his face, like he’d just gotten back from a walk. Clark had been under the mistaken impression that the man wasn’t fit to hold the position he did - maybe he’d just gotten it through inheritance? a placeholder, perhaps? - because someone who drank their tea with more milk than tea in it, who sniffed delicately into handkerchiefs and said ‘excuse me’ when he burped—that didn’t seem like a mob moss, never mind that Clark’s only experience with the underworld had been in the form of smuggled DVDs and pirated clips.

It wasn’t until he’d seen what happened when someone defaulted on a payment that he realised exactly how deadly the man was. The screams from behind closed doors still rang in his ears sometimes. The unbothered expression of neutrality on Mr. Black’s face as he exited the room even more haunting.

Coming back to the situation at hand, though, Clark’s back had automatically straightened at Mr. Black’s tone. His brows were furrowed in a deep frown, lips pressed into a line, and he was looking at all the assembled members intently.

“Tomorrow, 9am sharp, not a minute before and not one after—You’ll be outside Collingswood Primary. I want all of you dressed casual. Jeans, jumpers, t shirts, you get it. If I see a single obvious sign that you’re packing, I’ll have you strung upside down from the London Bridge quicker than you can turn the safety off, get it?”

It took a second for Clark to realise he was actually expecting a verbal answer and he hastily added his agreement to the chorus of ‘yes, sir’ and ‘affirmative’ ringing around the room. Mr. Black stared at them for a few seconds longer—seconds that felt like they were stretched into hours. Clark could feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck, not even daring to blink as Mr. Black’s gaze skimmed over the room, only stopping on his for a millisecond. Finally, he nodded and gestured to his right.

“Lupin will give you the address and be your point man for the event tomorrow. We’re going to be undercover in public, which means subtlety and respectability. I expect everyone to show it.” With one final nod, he swept out of the room without a glance backward.

It was like a collective breath was released in that moment because Clark could feel his chest deflating, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to understand what just happened.

Did the big boss just tell them to go incognito at a…primary school? One where actual, real kids went to study? Clark was confused because—he could’ve sworn they didn’t do that. Mr. Black hadn’t said it out loud but Clark had always gotten the impression that children were off limits. But that was clearly not the case here.

Maybe he needed to rethink his earlier ‘no kidnapping children’ conviction, and also his employment while he was at it.

Speaking of which, why was he there anyway? He was an accountant, had never been ‘out in the field’ so to speak a day in his life. He couldn’t even identify the parts of a gun if his life depended on it, for Christ’s sake.

Really, the only thing they all had in common was that they looked like they could blend into a crowd—as opposed to Mr. Black and a couple others who looked like they’d stepped off a biker gang catalogue at any given moment—which is, perhaps, why they’d been selected. All the better for going incognito.

“Alright lads, you heard the boss,” Lupin said, before rattling off the address for somewhere in Chelsea. Jesus. “Be there at 9 on the dot, you hear me? That’s when entry starts and it’s first-come-first-serve. Obviously, we want the best seats available. No excuses for being late because if you are, then that’s shop cleanup duty for a week. Alone.”

“But that’s a three man job, at least,” one of the others cried and the almost-sadistic smirk that flitted on the man’s face reminded Clark why, despite his mild mannered looks, he was one of Mr. Black’s main enforcers.

“Guess you won’t be late then, huh?” he replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Clark hastily swallowed all the questions he had at that.

The next morning, the sun was shining bright, the sky was blue without a single cloud and Clark was standing in front of Collingswood Primary—a large, sprawling brick structure with faculty members dotted around the grounds—at eight fifty seven, feeling exceptionally awkward in his polo shirt and khaki trousers.

He tugged at the collar as he surveyed the place. It was a posh neighbourhood, no disputing that. He couldn’t remember ever stepping foot in the area before today and it almost felt like even the air here was too expensive for him to breathe. It was making him even more nervous, then, to imagine what they could possibly be here for. Clark had spotted almost every single person from yesterday’s meeting scattered around the place.

McKinnon was leaning against a tree, phone in hand, and he was slightly envious at how comfortable she looked, while he was sweating in his loafers. Lupin, Meadowes and Longbottom were gathered around the far end of the lane, coffee cups in hand and periodically glancing around. Pettigrew was stuffing a bagel in his mouth, hunched over like he didn’t realise everyone could see him. Clark’s lip curled instinctively at the sight.

Another look around and he realised the man himself, Mr. Black, wasn’t here. Did that mean they had to do…whatever it was…on their own? He wasn’t prepared for this. He was just an accountant who’d taken a wrong turn in life and ended up in this position, both employment-wise and existentially, no matter how cushy the pay was or how many free coffees he got from the communal Keurig.

It was as he was spiralling in the thoughts of what could have been (what if he’d gone into trade school like his da wanted? what if he hadn’t failed third semester corporate finance and had gone into a different kind of cutthroat sector? what if he hadn’t thought a call centre was beneath him? what if—) that he heard a voice call out.

“Mr. Black! Welcome, welcome.”

His head snapped up just in time to look at the tall frame of Sirius Black standing beside a lady who was almost half his height—literally, the top of her blonde bun barely reached his chest—at the front gate. Mr. Black was dressed…differently. His usual leather-jacket-distressed-skinny-jeans look was switched out for a very respectable button down shirt and trouser, still skinny fit of course, and he looked—normal? Not like he was the head of the most terrifying organisation this side of the Thames, not even with the tattoos that were visible all the way from where Clark was standing. He could see him taking the old lady’s hand in a handshake.

“Headmistress Martin, you look lovely as always. I trust you’ve been well?”

Inexplicably, the lady (which—headmistress??), who must be as old as Clark’s grandmum, blushed. “I appreciate that, Mr. Black. You know, I’m glad to catch you here today, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”

“As if there’s any way I can miss…” their voices trailed away as they made their way inside and Clark cursed the missed opportunity. He still didn’t know what was happening, and at this rate, his head was hurting because the most recent interaction was telling him there was something else at play here. It didn’t quite seem like they were here to kidnap kids for ransom or blackmail now.

Just as he’d shifted his worldview for the third time in so long, Lupin walked over the entrance and made a signal for the others to follow. Clark, being the closest, ended up directly behind him, which gave him the chance to…subtly listen—not eavesdrop, not his fault people talked too loud these days—to the man’s conversation with the teacher at the gate.

“Six for Harry Potter,” he said, handing over…tickets?

“I just saw Mr. Black go in too,” the teacher replied after writing it down in her clipboard. “Quite a popular kid, that one, isn’t he?”

“We’d like to think so.” Lupin smiled and walked in, seemingly familiar with the building and leading them like a line of ducklings to a door marked ‘Auditorium’. At this point, Clark was—yet again—calibrating his entire worldview. They were here for a…show? A kid’s show, at that? Were they going to drag a kid straight off the stage? Or, was he wrong, and were they here for a parent?

That would actually make more sense. Maybe they had a…client or someone who was hiding, but even cowards could be good parents, right?

He kept telling himself that as they took their seats somewhere down the middle, all in one row. He ended up squished in between Lupin and Longbottom, which was great, really. He could get all the inside gossip without any of the work.

“So when’s the kid coming up?” Longbottom asked, looking around curiously. “And where’s the boss sitting, anyway?”

“Sirius would be somewhere in the front row there. See.” Lupin pointed a finger towards the center of the auditorium, where a fancier set of couches were laid out. Mr. Black was sitting on one of them like he owned the whole place, with the Headmistress and some other distinguished looking officials in conversation beside him. “The lucky bastard, gets the good stuff while we’re stuck on these bloody chairs.”

Sometimes, Clark forgets that these two men went way back—no one else could dream of referring to the boss man like that.

“As for Harry, there’s some sort of a—choir, I believe? Then the play. Shouldnt take too long, it is primary school, at the end of the day.”

“Speaking of primary schools, do you know why we needed to bring our…pieces to one?” Longbottom questioned. Clark barely swallowed down the squeak that followed that line of query. He’d almost forgotten they were…packing. “Does Black think we’ll get attacked out here or something?”

“You know he doesn’t,” Lupin rolled his eyes. “But he’s not taking any chances when it’s coming to Harry. If you think you’re armed, you should’ve seen the assortment he strapped to himself today. If I didn’t know him, I would’ve had him chucked straight into a facility, I’m telling ya.”

“Mate, I know him and still feel the urge sometimes.” Both of them snort in unison at that and Clark is just sitting there, slightly terrified and mostly confused, at the turn of the conversation.

As the—program commenced, Clark keeps a tight grip on the handles of his seat, watching each child and member of the audience carefully. He doesn’t knew what he’d be asked to recount later, and he has no wish to make things harder for himself by losing himself in the spiral of wondering what the fuck was going on. His time at this particular…organisation had taught him two things, if nothing else: head down and no questions. It was how he’d skirted past everyone’s radar so far and he wanted to keep it that way.

The choir came up on stage and performed an—interesting variation on pop songs he’d heard on the radio. Lupin and Longbottom clapped politely when it ended and Clark joined in until the host on stage announced ‘Annual Play! Our little actors have put their heart and soul into this, so please, show them all the love you can’ which led to another round of applause, slightly more raucous this time. He could see Mr. Black was one of the more enthusiastic ones in the audience. Huh. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him smile so big before.

Just as he’s focused on now unnaturally white the man’s teeth were, Lupin leant forward to face their entire row.

“The boss’ kid is coming up now and he expects maximum participation from all of you.”

“The boss’ what?” Clark’s glad that McKinnon chose to voice what they were all thinking because he didn’t think he was brave enough for it, no matter how much he wanted to know.

“His kid, Harry. Keep up, Marlene,” Lupin sighed, like they were being the ones being unreasonable here and not the fact that an entirely new facet about their…organisation’s head had been revealed to them.

“Since when did Black have a child, what the fuck.”

“That’s not important, what is is the fact that Harry’s about to be on stage right now and if you get caught talking during his part, you bet your arse he’s gonna have you cleaning blood off the rug for the whole month.” With that, he turned back to facing the stage, considered the matter closed—no thought given to the others who were stuck in varying stages of disbelief and shock.

“How, er, how exactly are we supposed to know which one the kid is—and does he have a name?” Pettigrew asked, craning his neck around everyone between him—in the last seat—and Lupin.

“It’s Harry, didn’t you hear, Pettigrew?” McKinnon snarked.

“He’s just coming up, wait…” Lupin mumbled, looking intently at the stage where a bunch of kids dressed in colourful fairy tale costumes had arranged themselves. “There! That one.” He pointed towards the back corner of the stage where a small cluster of children were gathered. Clark squinted, trying to identify what was going on. Surely, Lupin didn’t mean—

“The tree?” Meadowes said, incredulously “That’s what we’re all here to see, a kid dressed as a common garden tree?”

Somehow, he didn’t think he could be more shocked and yet, when Lupin nodded, completely seriously, Clark was. His eyes zeroed in on the tree in question—not a hard task considering there was only one—and could just about make out a bunch of hair escaping the band sitting on his head. There was a pair of spectacles sitting on his nose, a bit too large in Clark’s opinion, and his face was pulled up in a wide smile. He was looking straight at the front row and even sitting as far back as he was, Clark could see the joy radiating off him. Cute kid, really, but did nothing to make sense of the befuddlement he was feeling.

Clark turned to his side, saw the varying expressions of confusion and shock lining everyone else’s face, and felt immediately gratified. At least he wasn’t alone.

He went through the rest of the performance barely registering what was happening, like moving through a fog, clapping when Lupin and Longbottom did—which was apparently whenever the tree, sorry, Harry so much as moved—and sneaking glances at Mr. Black all the other times.

It was astounding—the man was leaning forward, elbows planted on knees, an expression of complete rapture on his face like he didn’t want to be anywhere else except here, watching a kid dance around in a plastic shrubbery costume. He clapped frequently and loudly, even letting out a taxicab whistle one time that made Clark double take most comically. The guests on either side of him only smiled indulgently in his direction and that, more than anything, drove home how much of a regular Mr. Black must be among them.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the kids bowed, the host announced the end of the show, and everyone clapped harder than they had so far. Which was really saying something considering how much their group had contributed to the cumulative applause. And that’s not to even mention Mr. Black. But now, everyone was on their feet, and Clark could feel his palms stinging under the onslaught of his enthusiasm. Better that than be reprimanded later, though.

Once the cheers had died down and the host was finished with their closing credits, Lupin turned to them. “We’re going backstage, let’s go.” And promptly got up, walking down the aisle towards the stage. Clark blinked at his abruptness, used to it by now but still not quite, before turning to his other side where Longbottom was flapping his hand in a ‘well, go on then’ motion. He decided to listen and scurried away after Lupin, absently wondering if they looked like a bunch of ducklings following after mama duck. And wasn’t that a thought—the mighty thugs of the London underworld, relegated to animal metaphors.

“Wonderful event, Mr. Smith.” Lupin shook hands with an average white guy at a side entrance. “We’ll just go in here to see our boy, yes?”

“All…of you?” The guy asked, eyeing their procession dubiously.

“Well, of course, Harry’s our favorite little guy,” Lupin replied in the same pleasant voice. Clark didn’t bother to clarify that none of them even knew there was a little guy until an hour ago. If the boss wanted them to say his kid was their favorite, then that’s what they’ll say. It didn’t take long after that for them to be let in. Clark would be more worried about the school’s safety if he hadn’t seen Lupin walk circles around the smartest people he’d ever seen. School cops were no match.

“An’ an’ an’ did ya see the whole t’ing?” An excited voice was saying as they turned the corner. Clark craned his neck and felt his brows creeping up when he assigned it to their favorite little guy—Harry. Who was currently being cuddled—there was no other word for it—by Mr. Black. Harry had his arms wrapped around the man’s neck as he talked and Mr. Black was looking at him with a kind of laser focus Clark had never seen before. And considering he looked after their entire operation’s accounts, that was really saying something.

“I saw the whole thing, baby,” Mr. Black replied, voice soft. Clark and the rest of their entourage were frozen in their positions, not wanting to disturb their conversation. “You were beautiful.”

Harry bit his lip at that, eyes gaze falling to rest on Mr. Black’s collarbone rather than his eyes. “I was jus’ a tree, though, Siri.”

Mr. Black’s eyebrows turned down. “And you were the most perfect tree I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“But it—that’s—trees are boring. Anyone can be one,” Harry’s lower lip looked a bit wobbly there and Clark had just a second to despair, no matter that he was standing too far away to be expected to do anything, before Mr. Black took over, swift and practiced.

“Harry, my love, if anyone can be a tree, and yet it was you that was chosen, then what does that say about you?” Personally, Clark thought that bit of philosophy, while profound, was a bit too complicated for a child.

“But—“

“And,” Mr. Black gently cut in, “If you were boring, then I wouldn’t have cheered as hard as I did, would I? It’s a matter of pride for me that my godson makes such a lovely tree.” He tweaked the kid’s nose, making him let out a wet giggle. But, even Clark, inexperienced as he was around children, could see they weren’t out of the danger zone yet. The kid was still looking a bit troubled there. Clearly, Mr. Black had picked up on it as well because he turned to their little association with an expectant look on his face. Clark hadn’t even realised he’s noticed them but of course he did.

“And if that’s not good enough for you,” he continued teasingly, turning Harry towards them. “Then you can ask any of them and they’d say the same.” Mr. Black’s raised eyebrow was sufficient warning.

Harry, on the other hand, was unaware of the looming danger because he burrowed into his…parent? guardian? uncle? (Seriously, what was the relation here?) as he noticed the bunch of strangers standing there like idiots.

“Who’s they, Siri?” he whispered loudly.

“They’re my friends from work.” Clark pushed down the hysterical snort that wanted to emerge at that statement. “And they came here just for you!”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes—a bright emerald, now that Clark was closer—opened wide in surprise. “All for me?”

“All for you, baby,” Mr. Black reassured him before clearing his throat pointedly. Clearly that was the cue for Lupin, who’d been standing just as quietly, to jump in for he strode forward until he was right in front of the pair.

“Hello, Mr. Harry,” he offered a hand to the kid, who returned the solemn handshake with a grin tugging his lips. “I see you’re well.”

“You too, Mr. Loo-pin,” Harry giggled before leaning forward in Mr. Black’s arms. “Did ya see me pre-pef-peform?”

“I did, you were really quite something, kiddo,” Lupin ruffled his black hair, showing a level of familiarity Clark should’ve come to expect by now. “Thank you for letting me come.”

“But I din’t—“ Harry said, eyebrows furrowed adorably.

“We wouldn’t have seen such a great show if you weren’t acting in it, now, would we?”

“Hm.” While Harry seemed to consider that, Clark and the others had managed to get over their shock to make their way to their boss and his kid.

“Hello, Harry,” Meadowes grinned, bright and friendly, taking the lead. “You were so cool up there!”

The poor kid looked at her with rapidly reddening cheeks. Clearly he wasn’t immune to her charms either. Figures. “T’ank you, miss.” Clark could see Meadowes biting down on her lip, eyes softening in adoration.

“I thought you were the best one on stage, Harry,” Clark added, keeping one eye on his boss who was staring at all of them intently and another on Harry who couldn’t see to stop blushing. As he received another stammered thanks in reply, the others stepped up for their turn at congratulating the kid.

When all of them had finished their round of pleasantries, not that it was much of a chore—while a tree was certainly a forgettable role, Harry was adorable enough to win all of them over—Mr. Black smoothly stepped into the conversation. He ran a gentle hand over the boy’s unruly hair, smoothening it fruitlessly before tucking a few strands behind one ear.

“Will you believe your poor godfather now? Or do I need to shout from the rooftops?”

Harry swatted at his chest feebly, making a face at the gentle teasing. Despite knowing that this was just a kid—the boss’ godson at that—Clark held his breath in anticipation of how such an action would be perceived. Surprisingly (or perhaps not) the boss only grinned, a shocking display of emotions Clark hadn’t ever seen before today.

“So, ice cream in celebration then?” he asked. Clark, still stuck on the relationship reveal, almost replied in the affirmative before realising that would’ve been a supremely awkward thing to do. Clearly he wasn’t the one being asked here.

“Yes, please, Siri!” Harry chirped, bouncing a little in excitement. “Will—will your friends come too?”

“Will they, now?” Mr. Black repeated, looking at them with a raised eyebrow that communicated very well his feelings on the matter. The four of them, Longbottom and Lupin not included, immediately fell over themselves trying to communicate a variety of reasons for why they ‘couldn’t come, so sorry kid, maybe next time?’ in a way that didn’t hurt his feelings or get themselves strung upside down.

“Oh, otay then,” Harry blinked, looking a bit overwhelmed at the sudden onslaught directed at him. “T’ank you for comin’!”

Meadowes was unable to stop herself from cooing this time. Mr. Black snorted softly before inclining his head in their direction, saying ‘thank you’ and dismissing them in one smooth move.

Longbottom and Lupin stayed back, engaging Harry in conversation, while the others slowly walked away, trying to wrap their heads around the events of the day. He could hear snippets of Meadowes and McKinnon conversation, speculating on why they needed to be armed if they were just here to watch a kid’s play, and immediately increased his pace so he didn’t have to hear about things like that again. He really did not want to think about the unsavoury aspects of his job right now, not when he was equally baffled by everything.

Instead, he wondered if he should go job hunting again. All this stress surely wasn’t worth it, was it? Not if he wanted a place right next to his mother in the near future. Maybe he should think of going into the call center industry he’d written off earlier. It didn’t make use of his degree but it also didn’t have guns, the pay was decent, and there was no definitely no blood to clean up on the rug.

#sirius black #harry potter #remus lupin #good godfather sirius black #sirius and harry saturday #mob boss sirius black #an oc with the stupidest name on earth #literally used it as a placeholder but i can’t find anything better lol #outsider pov #look i finished it! a bit disjointed but the spirit is there i think #i started this like two months ago bc of this mental image of a bunch of scary thugs showing up to the school #for harry dressed in the most mundane outfit because sirius is a PTA Parent #and that fact remains true even in a universe where he’s a scary mobster #the ending is kind of meh but we’ve established i’m not good at those #but yeah. big terrifying man who’s super soft for his kid.#a+ concept. love to see it.#tumblr works #pen’s writing

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honey-mice · 1 year

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me ascending into heaven from old Dangan discourse like "chihiro is just a guy who feels safer presenting femininely and if he didn't die then he might have eventually felt safe presenting more masculine" while gender normative people try to throw stuff at me from below

(the tags are crucial btw so look at them)

#im not trying to start an actual fight about that shit again its just #why are the main options that chihiro is actually a boy & wants to dress masculine or #chihiro is actually a transwoman and wants to dress femininely #he literally says stuff about him feeling like he is a boy & just presents as a girl due to him feeling inferior as not a manly man #like ik people are like ''thats the closest they can get to a mtf trans story in 2010'' when i mean like is it a mtf trans story tho?#it sounds more like they wanted to talk about toxic masculinity especially since mondo is involved #i think its way better for it to be a story about a boy who is made to feel uncomfortable in his own ''weaker'' body & feels forced to #act like another gender because of toxic stereotypes instead of a mtf trans story where the guy says ''im a boy''#im not at all trying to say you cant headcanon him as trans or it would be bad if he was trans #hell this is kinda my own headcanon since its barely elaborated on in the game #i just think it is falling into gender norms to think that he either has to be a masculine boy or a feminine girl #why can he be a feminine boy or a both feminine & masculine boy #loll i wrote a ton in the tags oops sorry to my followers who will see this and not give a shit #im not gonna put the game name in the tags cause i dont want this to turn into an argument #i honestly dont care what people say chihiros gender is i just think people can be gender normative about it #honestly someone make a xenogender chihiro headcanon come on

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fabulouslygaybean · 1 year

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honest to god having a cool trans man cousin has been such an important part of me settling into who i am as a trans man

#he's a bi trans jewish stoner who works as a bartender and drives a bright orange pick-up truck #he dresses like your standard slightly rural midwestern but he makes it look effortlessly cool #he was one of the only people to never even once make fun of me when i was still a baby queer and i did embarrassing things #back when i was more or less forced into the uwu soft boi kind of role by everyone who knew i was a trans man #my cousin bought me my first non-used binder and took me to my first pride parade #he listened to all of my crazed ramblings over names and labels and all that shit when i was still figuring everything out #he helped me feel better about aspects of myself that i really truly hated because of dysphoria #he's just helped me out so fuckin much #he's a wonderful guy and im so glad he's part of my family

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rewrentless · 2 years

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#its 2am i have work tomorrow time to be sad about my gender #ive been volunteering at this place a couple days a week for the past month and a half and i havent come out to them yet #i really fucking need to cause i cant stand it i hate being called she or girl if its not my family and i cant do anything about that yet #but its fucing scary theyre taking me on for placement and to hopefully hire me after what if they dont accept me or are shitty about it #i mean i literally told two of them that im gay and trans but i dont know if they were actually paying attention or not #and i told them that wren is my chosen name but not why #my therapist recommended emailing my manager and getting her to tell them but my mum is handling my emails to her and thats too awkward #i also really want to go on t cause im so sick of being misgendered by strangers especially when i think i look masc #like ive been thinking about for years but theres the fear of looking too masc or that itll be equally shitty to be misgendered as a man #also puttinh it off cause id need my mum to help me with the form cause its confusing and wordy #i just want to live as wren #i dont want to be living in the shadow of my deadname #i dont want to ever hear that name targeted towards me ever again but out of my family only my parents call me wren #cause my grandparents dont understand and i only ever see my aunts and cousins in their house so i cant be wren to them either #i absolutely love my grandparents so it fucks me up that i can only fully be myself after they die #even then one of my aunts is incredibly transphobic and i doubt the other is much better #love that this all started cause i was clearing out my wardrobe and got upset at how many of my shirts and dress emphasize my chest or hips #i never realise how much dysphoria i experience till i try my binder on once in a blue moon and nearly cry with euphoria #im gonna see if i can tell at least one of my coworkers my pronouns tomorrow

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tonycries · 16 days

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AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.

Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-

The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father.

Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.

And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.

Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-

“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”

You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close?

You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was.

Oh.

At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”

You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you.

“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.

He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.

Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.

“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you.

“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”

You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.

“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting.

And oh was it interesting.

Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.

Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion.

All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.

So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second.

“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.

You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”

“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”

“Satoru.”

“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”

Ah, there it was.

It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?

“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”

“Hey!”

Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought.

It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were.

“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh.

After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.

Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-

Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often.

“Ah! Wha- Sato-”

You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart.

Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards.

Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-

“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach.

“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment.

Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”

And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son.

You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”

He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”

“Fucking yes.” There it was again.

But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”

“What do you-”

“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined.

Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”

A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”

And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop.

Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.

His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not.

Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner.

Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.

“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again.

But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you.

Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom.

“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat.

Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting.

You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?

Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.

It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”

Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have.

As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?

Turning to the mirror and-

Oh. Shit.

You better have brought your make-up remover.

God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.

Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.

With a groan, he leans against the shut door. Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?

Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily.

Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?

Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously.

Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins.

“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.”

And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”

Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing.

But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way.

“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”

He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.

What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.

“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-

And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.”

Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb.

“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.”

God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him.

Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full.

So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.

And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that.

“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”

“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”

And then he’s cumming.

A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-

You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again.

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed.

At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father.

But that was exactly the problem.

Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out.

And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself.

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right?

You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?

But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.

“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”

That wasn’t your sugar daddy.

Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice.

Success.

“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.

“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”

Oh.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?

You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”

It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”

“Aww, must be some important business.”

He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”

“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”

And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you.

Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck.

All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips.

“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”

“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth.

Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission.

Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”

And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find.

“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”

Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight.

Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away.

Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”

Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy. Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet.

“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.” he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting.

“You were the one that-”

And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds.

And then it was like something snapped.

Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams.

“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”

But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.

And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”

“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-

“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue.

“W-what?”

“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”

And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before.

Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him.

Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it.

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls.

Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face.

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him.

And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high.

Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do.

Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip!

And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one.

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you.

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.

Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed.

“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.

“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”

You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin.

Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.

“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.”

Shit had you said that out loud?

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you.

Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs.

And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh.

“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”

“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need.

You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”

“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”

“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”

He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now.

Of course, you were not one to be out-done.

Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-

“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”

“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle.

“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth.

“I’d make you cum harder.”

Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet.

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard.

Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”

And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards.

“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”

With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips.

You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust.

But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch.

“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in.

“No.”

“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”

“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.”

One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing.

And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all.

“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”

And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?

“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.

And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”

His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”

You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”

“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”

And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you.

“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life.

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”

You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”

“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”

Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high.

Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you.

And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough.

Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams.

Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven.

That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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wizzard890 · 6 months

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okay so picture this.

You're a man named Jim Steinman. You are one of the most prolific songwriters of the 80s. In your spirit, output and essence, you are eternally popping a wheelie on a motorcycle while a hot half-naked woman clings to you and bats wheel in the sky above.

You wrote a song in which Meatloaf plays a hideously disfigured hunk who steals a nubile lady back to his crumbling manor and introduces her to the pleasures of magic lesbian group sex.

You wrote a song in which Celine Dion sings as Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, dancing with Cathy's corpse on a beach in the moonlight; a scene which you, Jim Steinman, believe should have been in the book. (The moors of Wuthering Heights are landlocked, but you, Jim Steinman, are too fucking real to care about that.)

You wrote the song for the opening scene of the movie Streets of Fire, in which evil leatherdaddy Willem Dafoe leads his malefic motorcycle crew into a concert to abduct Diane Lane while she's wearing a skintight satin jumpsuit.

You wrote a song in which Bonnie Tyler wanders a haunted boarding school as literal demon twinks gyrate at her out of the fog.

There is no peak of goth camp that you, Jim Steinman, have not summited, no horny energy you have not tapped. They say that Alexander the Great wept when he saw there were no more worlds to conquer. But you, Jim Steinman, are not Alexander the Great. You, Jim Steinman, are better. You, Jim Steinman, have vision.

You take your most successful song, the song everyone knows, the most big-haired, white dress, gothic arches, doves flying, possessed choir boys chanting, bombastic song you have, and think: what if this, but with vampires.

And so you change the lyrics to be about death and infinity and a powerful bloodsucking lord seducing a girl who is ALL ABOUT IT, and then toss off a whole musical for this song to be the centerpiece to, and the musical is bad but it's also a weird hit that's been staged in fourteen countries and revived seven times, because nothing has ever whipped as campily, as ridiculously, as perfectly as this:

youtube

It never takes off in America. A prophet is without honor in his own land. But that doesn't matter. How could it matter? You are perhaps the most creatively self-actualized man who has ever lived. Look at that vampire. He's coming in hot and a hundred Venetian nuns gave their lives to make his ludicrously capacious lace sleeves. Look at that girl. She was born in a fog machine. She wore her best red velvet cape. She's down bad. She's singing Total Eclipse of the Heart the whole time.

You are Jim Steinman, and you have reached apotheosis.

#reading this post is like doing a line of coke if the line of coke was my entire personality #emily does musicals

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augustinewrites · 7 months

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“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”

#nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff

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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 | nanami kento

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: dom! Nanami x fem/afab! reader - nipple play - hair pulling - doggy style + deep impact positions - restricted movements (using his tie on your hands) - overstimulation - pet names (angel, baby, love, sweetpea) - clitoral play - orgasm denial.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Oops, I did it again. Nanami being rough with his hands on your body. That's it, that's the tweet. Smthn quick thanks to MAPPA serving good food to the nanami fanatics on this week's ep

We all know Nanami Kento would treat his partner with the utmost care. There is no man you can put your entire faith in when it comes to your body than him. He's always perfect with you. Checking up on you to see if you're okay, rubbing circles on your back to calm you down from a haze, wiping tears on your face whenever he makes you feel so goddamn good. And let's not forget the kiss on the forehead he places so gently as he fucks you lovingly.

In terms of lovemaking and treating your body right, Nanami is undeniably the perfect candidate…

…However, there will occasionally be those moments when you’d want him to be just a tad rough with you. Nothing wrong with the soft, cutesy shit. No, no, you love it! But let’s face it; when you have a man who looks so deliciously alluring to the eye, with his broad shoulders and strong forearms that peek from his dress shirt, you can’t blame your mind for indulging with wilder thoughts. Especially when you express said thoughts to him.

And he listens to your request with his absolute attention. He’ll ask for confirmation before he does anything rash. And when you give him the green flag, your fate is sealed for the rest of the night.

“—Ggaahhh!! Ahaahnn!! Ken–Kentooo, you’re going—OhmyGod, OhmyGoood—“

“Shhh, don’t squirm too much, love.” He’ll whisper to your ear so hotly you nearly fall to your knees had it not been for his leg between yours, essentially making you ride his sturdy thigh. Your back pressed up against his abdomen while his hands roamed your body. One hand in your shirt, slipping your bra up to release your breast from the material, and for his hands to knead and play with your mounds. The other stuffed down your shorts and passed your panties, his fingers intimately close to your hot, wet folds. And you jerk when his ring finger presses down on your clit.

“Ahooo! Kento, stop, stooop!!” You don’t want him to stop — he knows you don’t want him to stop. “I’m gonna cum, it’s gonna happen—Nnnnmm!!!” He tweezes your nipple roughly, evoking an erotic shriek.

“You better come on me,” he demands you. Oh, how he sounds so hot when he does that. “Make my hand filthy like you, baby.”

But that’s only the beginning. Wait until you two move into the bedroom with his pelvis rutting onto the cusp of your ass. Face down to the pillow and ass up for Nanami to station you, and his hand in your hair, lightly tugging it. Sweat shields your body and glistens from the bedroom lights, your hands tied behind your back by his necktie. You’ve left with nothing to stand your ground, forced to take in his cock that churns your inner walls. And, God, it feels so fucking good.

“How’re you feeling there, angel?” Nanami, his pants and tie discarded with his shirt no longer buttoned up. The fingers in your hair massage your scalp. “Hmm? Are you feeling good?”

“…Uhhaaa—Ohohhh!” There’s no way you could give him a proper response in a position like this. Your head is so far gone that all you can think about is the commotion between your legs. The deeper he grinds his cock into your chasm, the deeper you sink into your blissful fog. Your hips begin to move involuntarily at this point; it just feels too exhilarating to stop!

However, attending to your bliss has its faults, especially when you’re not paying attention to the man making you feel this way. Because Nanami pulls your hair, forcing your face upright from the pillows. You cry at the sudden yank, exposing the drool and tears that trickle down your pretty face.

“You know better than that, Y/n.” His serious voice is on, your cunt twitches around his length. “I need your words to let me know how good you’re feeling.”

“Ahck—Mmmm…S’ too good, Kentooo. Y’ make me feel so good. So fucking—Ahannn…good….” did you mean for your words to slur? Who cares. Just don’t stop; please keep it going. Please, please, please—

Nanami chuckles at your words and lets your face fall back to the pillow. “Good.”

But don’t think the fun stops there. Nope. It just keeps getting better.

With your hands still tied, you now lie on your back to the comforter while he pistons his cock into you, one of your legs now on his shoulder to get a better angle to hit your sweet spots accurately. The wails you let out are uncontainable — there’s no point in stopping them from flying out your mouth. Your bottom lip is puffy from how much you’ve bitten it this entire time, and more tears fall to your neck.

Nanami looks at your expressions intently, mocha eyes never leaving your gorgeous face. It’s here that he finally withdraws his shirt and fucks you nude, sharing this intimate heat and passion with you. And, lord, he looks so fucking good right now. His tidy golden hair now with strands sticking to his forehead, sweat shared between your naked bodies, and his beautiful brown orbs taking you in like you’re the greatest treasure in the world.

“Ohhfuck, ohhhfuuckin—Ohhh!!!” Oh, God. With the way the tip of his cock precisely hits and scrapes your tender spots, you can feel your climax coming to get you. “Kento, Ken–Nnmphh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna—“

And then it vanishes. It didn’t come. Why? Because Nanami immediately removes his length from your slick-coated slit, the electrifying tingles in your body subside in seconds. Of course, you whine to him with doe, tearful eyes. So cruel. He’s so just cruel, but you love it.

“Mmmm, sorry, sweetpea.” You know he’s not sorry. The tiny mischievous glint in his eyes is telling. “Let me hear you beg for it first, the I’ll give my baby what they want.”

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kit-catrock · 6 months

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I just discovered that there was a person who was afab and ended up joining the russian army by the name of Alexander Durov in 1806.

Born a woman, Nadezhda Durova (birth name) ran away from home and joined a light cavallery regiment dressed as a man.

After his identity was uncovered, the russian tsar summoned him to the palace at St. Petersburg, where he impressed the tsar so much that he awarded Durov the Cross of St. George and promoted him to lieutenant in a hussar unit.

He always referred to himself as a man and was upset when people called him a woman.

He signed letters with his male last name.

He expressed feelings of disgust towards his sex and how that worried him a lot.

He never married willingly and adopted many dogs and cats.

He only danced with women when attending a ball.

He asked to be buried under his male name Alexander Andreevich Alexandrov but the church did not agree to that.

I never saw him in "historical transmasculine people" compilations and only discovered his story coincidentally.

Unfortunately, historians still adress him with female pronouns, although he did not want that.

Let's remember him together. We won't allow him to be forgotten.

I'll probably add onto this post later or make a better one but you can read a lot on this wikipedia article:

#transmasc #trans #transgender #trans history #lgbt history #lgbt russia #лгбт #лгбт история #transmasculine #trans man #historical gays #lgbtqia #lgbtq community

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yueebby · 7 months

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Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously.

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer.

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial.

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly.

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards.

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?” satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress.

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.”

satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you.

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!”

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.”

“o-okay.”

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.”

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!”

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #this is me coping bc of the leaks

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