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may you never forget me | nerdjo x f!reader

one: lingering, like a ghost

summary: he has everything he’s ever worked hard for, except for that one girl who was in at least one of his classes each semester for the entirety of college. he never tried to actually get to know you, but he did help you in ways you'd never know… one of them was getting professor gakuganji fired for calling you out in class. graduation day was supposed to be the day he finally confessed, only for you to not show up at all. what will he do when he sees you again 5 years later?

genre: unrequited love, smut, angst, fluff, one-sided love, gojo’s lw crazy, very observant of reader in all there classes together, nerdjo has an existential crisis in between graduation and seeing reader again, set in the present but will have many flashbacks, more to be added

a/n: HI WELCOME TO THE FIRST CHAPTER! So real quick, this is in present time, but this fic will have a lot of flashbacks to when gojo and reader were in college. We are starting off strong with a gojo pov, enjoy and see you in the end notes ❤️ 3.7k words

SONG REC: night tapes - drifting

masterlist

Contrary to what people may have believed, Satoru never really liked school. Yes, he got good grades, has even won awards throughout his childhood. It’s learning that he likes– astronomy, taking random language classes, historical documentaries, it’s not that hard getting him interested in new subjects. 

But school itself? He actually kinda loathed it, to tell you the truth. 

Starting from kindergarten, when his nanny literally abandoned him in a class full of random kids and some grumpy old lady, that really should’ve been a fucking drill sergeant rather than a teacher, all the way to his first day of college, when he had to walk through school gates alone for the first time in 11 years. 

Thanks a fucking lot Suguru. 

…Mind you his best friend still finds himself having to apologize for not getting accepted into the same school.

Whatever. It was different that time around, college didn’t require you to have friends to get by, you can actually just go straight to your apartment (or dorm) after class. 

Not like those first 12 years of school, where you were literally stuck with the same shitty people for 8 hours a day. That’s probably the biggest reason why he loathed it so much. 

College was significantly better, everyone was less annoying too. There were still cliques of course, but not to the same extent as the ones in highschool, where they could reign terror on other students for 4 agitating years. 

He never had to endure bullying himself. Most people already knew which family he was a part of from just looking at him, the hair gives it away. 

But he did have to witness his other classmates go through it– shit was brutal. And for someone who didn’t like people all that much, it got annoying quick. 

Like c’mon— if you really hated Ijichi, you wouldn’t even spare him a glance, let alone spend your free time harassing him. 

Satoru apparently saved him that day. 

Ijichi’s worked at the company for 3 years now and which each year that passes, he finds himself thanking Satoru for that. 

The thing is, no one ever tried to get involved whenever this group of kids cornered Ijichi. Everyone was either too scared to say anything or just didn’t care. 

The best day of Ijichi’s life was the day Satoru rushed out of his house and left his earphones at home. The stars seemed to align that day since the library was also temporarily closed. 

The next best study spot for Satoru? Literally any empty classroom, he just needs it to be quiet. 

The silence he so badly needed that day only lasted 20 minutes. It came to a screeching halt when Ijichi literally goes flying through the fucking room. Satoru almost told him to shut up, but then he heard 3 other kids making their way into the classroom, laughing and taunting him. 

Satoru ended up closing his textbook and notebook at that point— to think he’d be able to finish all of his work before going home was pure delusion. 

He peeks at the end of the room to take a look at Ijichi’s limbs tangled all over the desk, which quickly made him cringe. That’s gotta hurt bad. There wasn’t much Ijichi could do either, he was this scrawny kid who had a hard time speaking up, when it came to anything. He remembers offering Ijichi a pencil after seeing him at his desk, staring at his broken pencil in silence, all while everything else continued doing their assignments. He said, and Satoru quotes, “Oh n-nO, it’s fine! !I don’t nEed onE~”

Ijichi was seriously planning on sitting there for the rest of the period, doing nothing, because he was so afraid of accepting a pencil from Satoru. 

Satoru didn’t have time to sit there, trying to convince Ijichi that he was just as deserving of a pencil as everyone else and ended up throwing it at him. 

Ijichi yelped. 

There’s no saving him. 

Well, at least not he’s yelping, they fucking winded him. Did the 3 of these guys pick him up together and catapult him into the classroom? He doesn’t even want to know. 

He’s more annoyed that these guys had to come in and fuck up his study session. He had to attend a clan meeting with his father tonight, he didn’t have time to do his work at home. 

“...Why are you guys so obsessed with him?” Satoru abruptly asked, right as Ijichi was about to get grabbed by one of the boys. His tone was anything but accusatory, he was genuinely curious. 

“Us?” One of them laughed. “Obsessed with him? He’s a fuckin’ loser, no ones obsessed with him.” 

“Are you sure..?” Satoru looks back and forth between the group and Ijichi, who looked like he was actually going to piss himself. “I feel like the first thing you guys do whenever you have the free time is look for him.”

“And what’s it to you? Tryna come in and save the day?” One of them cuts in, trying to antagonize him. That doesn’t really work with Satoru though— if he thinks you’re gonna end up nowhere in life, the last thing he’ll do is take you seriously. 

“I was just wondering.” Satoru shrugs. “Saying you're not obsessed with him, but then going straight to him every time lunch starts and school ends is honestly just kinda weird. It’s like your day revolves around him.”

One lets out a low laugh, “You’re calling us weird? That’s rich coming from you— only reason why nobody touches you is because everyone knows who your family is.”

“That’s—“ He immediately cuts himself off in order to get his thoughts together. Everyone’s confused, Satoru looks incredibly uncomfortable as he tries to figure out what exactly they meant by that. “So what you’re saying is you’d… touch me if I wasn’t?”

“Wh– no, not like tha– why don’t you just shut the fuck up and mind your business.”

“I was, it was you guys who came here.” Satoru reminds them in his still visibly disturbed state. “…to touch Ijichi— wait nooo.”

Satoru’s eyes widened in shock after jumping to his own conclusion.

“Why the fuck are you so focused on that word?!” 

“Why are you so focused on getting Ijichi alone??” Satoru responds with a question of his own. 

“We were gonna beat his ass!” The shortest one in the group says, but his words never reach Satoru’s ears.

His jaws practically on the floor and ends up having to put his hand over his mouth, just for the dramatics. His eyes slowly lose their vibrancy as he starts to look back and forth between the bullies and Ijichi— who still has yet to speak up. 

His silence makes it all look so much worse than it actually is.

“You guys like Ijichi.. like that?”

“…”

Crickets. 

They miraculously left Ijichi alone after that day– not out of guilt, but because the fucking digimon freak genuinely thought they were obsessed with Ijichi. 

After working for Satoru for some time, he realized he had just put on an act to get the group to leave him alone. What he didn’t know was that he only did that because he didn’t have his earphones that day and couldn’t concentrate with them torturing him in the background. 

But even if he found out, he’d still be thankful. He was saved around the time that group of boys started getting more aggressive with him, he’s sure they would’ve broken a bone or two towards the end of senior year. 

He also realized another thing, Satoru’s a smartass. 

It made him wonder if he was like this all along, or if he just found himself when he went off to college. 

He was always like this at home and unfortunately never fucking found himself in college. He’s not afraid to admit all that he had missed out on by keeping to himself so much. 

Sure, he made a few friends here and there, but he could’ve made more by joining clubs. He could’ve had more memorable nights and weekends if he had kept up some of the conversations his classmates tried to start with him, rather than just saving the discussions for his professors. 

Keeping up the grades and being at the top of all of his classes didn’t even matter if he had to be honest with himself. He would’ve still ended up working for his family’s company regardless of what his grades were. 

The only thing he took away from those four years, aside from the degree, was that life waited for no one– not even for the Gojo clan's golden boy. 

That’s right folks! Even the cities' most desired bachelor has a certain someone that got away. What’s even worse is she didn’t even fucking know, because he never tried to talk to her ever in those four years. 

It’s not like she was hard to reach either, he had at least one class with her each semester, they probably had the same major. He’s not 100% sure though, because he literally has never talked to her— but fuck, he honestly tried in the end.

Those last two weeks leading up to graduation were spent mustering up the courage to approach you and coming up with what to actually say.

He needed it to be interesting, the typical “hey, let's keep in touch!” wasn’t going to work because there was never a connection to begin with. He’s even pretended not to hear you at the library once during junior year.

Why? He doesn’t know. 

After what felt like a never ending back and forth with himself— coming up with different pick up lines and then dropping them, because he sounded fucking pathetic and gave himself secondhand embarrassment— he decided he was going to be honest.

“Hey! I know we didn’t talk much– totally my fault by the way, too nervous I guess– is it too late to ask for your number?”

It was sincere, honest, and the furthest thing from pushy. It would’ve worked. It was a good, solid plan that he was going to go through with on graduation day.

Yet when the day came? You were nowhere to be found.

He didn’t even hear your name get called.

Can he be mad? Only with himself, he had 4 years to say something to you.

Life waited for no one.

Even if that was really the only “life lesson” he learned, it was just as valuable as anything else, and decided he didn't want to miss out on anything, anymore.

Did he go a little overboard postgrad?

Mmmyeah he sure did!

Very overboard– apparently it was something about how isolated he suddenly felt after graduating, mixed with the realization that time doesn’t and will never stop, ended up triggering a full blown existential crisis in your boy. 

His therapist explains it a little better… psychology is that once section he tries to stay away from.

But did he have fun?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

He still does, just not the type of fun where he woke up confused as fuck in a holding cell. Or the night ending with someone’s husband chasing him out of his home, after catching his wife cheating on the bed they shared.

Please don’t ask him if he knew or not.

It’s been five years since he graduated, his little party animal phase has toned down for the most part. The need to make up for lost time no longer gnaws away at him. He’s made more memories than most these last 5 years, he’s satisfied. His “wasted years” have now reverted back to being his “uni days”– a thought that’s able to pass, rather than a regret that consumes him. 

But he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t tried googling a certain someone's name throughout the years though. His therapist asked what would change if you actually did show up in the search results. Not genuinely, but to try to turn it into a whole conversation about how it wasn’t going to change the past and blahblahblah. 

No fucking shit. 

He’d still follow you though and slide into your dms real smooth. 

“What if she was married or in a serious relationship?”

“I’d still say hi? What’s the issue with saying I recognized her and realized she was an old classmate?” 

Apparently the difference between randomly stumbling onto a profile and directly searching for one was the issue. He was glad that subject came up towards the end of their session, he was not trying to sit there for a whole hour being told that innocently saying hi to an old classmate wasn’t “healthy” for him— fuck all the way off, Calvin. 

Surely he saw the way Satoru’s eyes momentarily darkened when saying goodbye, that should be a good indicator that he wouldn’t be back for more sessions, because he fucking sucks at his job. Satoru was still a nice person though and decides to text his personal assistant to cancel the rest of his scheduled appointments with the shrink. 

| Akira: Would you like me to provide a reason?

| S. Gojo: Nah.

He doesn’t owe him anything, if anything he deserves a refund for today. Let’s hope the next therapist will be a little less pessimistic. 

—

That very first semester actually wasn’t when he started growing interest toward you. Of course he thought you were cute, but looks weren’t enough for him to go out of his way to speak to others back then, unless it was for a group project. Plus, you sat on the opposite side of the lecture room, coming and going through a different door than he did. 

It was his second semester that he started to acknowledge you more, in his head at least. You were in 3 of his classes that semester, which made you hard to miss if you asked him. Especially the one on Tuesdays and Thursdays, where he had to watch you struggle to set some solid boundaries with a guy who was too cocky to take a hint. 

At first he felt nothing but second hand embarrassment towards Kairo, maybe he just wasn’t very good at reading others. Then he started to feel kind of bad for you. Feel bad about the way he’d watch your shoulders slightly drop whenever that guy came to talk to you. How you’d stiffen up whenever he leaned into your space. You even used a different tone with him, because he absolutely was the type of guy to read in between the lines, instead of actually listening to the words you’d say. 

You could tell him you weren’t interested and he’d think you’re playing hard to get if your voice rose in the slightest. 

Then one day you came into class a little later than usual. Satoru already knew that was going to suck for you, Kairo sat right in the middle of an area that was fairly open, meaning you’d be forced to be close to him regardless of which seat you chose to sit in for that day. 

You could imagine Satoru’s surprise when you suddenly asked if you could sit beside him on… an end seat, rather than the two empty ones to his left. 

He almost offered them to you, but then he realized you probably wanted to hide behind him and ended up murmuring a quick “yeah”. 

Nothing else was said between you two after that. You didn’t even look in his direction, all to avoid Kairo’s gaze. You’ve been in enough classes with Satoru at this point to know he wasn’t going to talk unless it was to ask the professor a question, so that was probably the first time you’ve gotten a chance to relax in that class since it started. 

Luckily Kairo had already been expelled from the school by the time you returned to the class that following tuesday. Meaning, you got to relax for the rest of the semester.

The school tried to keep the reason under wraps, but it eventually slipped out and spread like a wildfire. Around 200 photos from a certain album on his phone had been emailed to just about every employee at the school. From professors and office attendants all the way to the principal and deans. Even if the school had tried to cover it up, it would’ve been impossible since authorities had been tipped off about the emails and were there to take a look first thing in the morning. 

There were no explicit details on what the photos were of, but it’s pretty obvious if the law got involved. The one thing nobody could figure out was who got the photos and emailed them to everyone, with full evidence they belonged to Kairo. 

But like every other scandal that happened in school, that was easily forgotten in less than a month. Even with Kairo being gone, you never went back to that side of the room. Satoru figured that the view of the projector screen was better from where he usually sat, it explained why you were usually a few seats away from him for the rest of that semester.

There were days where you’d walk past him and the smell of your perfume would linger for a while. He didn’t notice it that one time you sat next to him, his mind was too busy thinking about things that were a little more important, but it didn’t take long at all for him to notice afterwards.

He couldn’t figure it out– kinda fruity but not sweet, warm but not vanilla or musk, unavoidable yet not overpowering. 

He liked it. To this day he still hasn’t been around anyone who’s presence continued to linger around the room like a ghost after they’ve left. 

Time had flown by fast. Before he knew it, sophomore year had begun. The thought that you could be in one of his classes again never crossed his mind prior to going back. It wasn’t until that second week where he genuinely felt your absence. Interestingly enough, it was someone else’s perfume that made the realization hit him like a fucking truck, literally. 

It was so fucking offensive that it made him miss you, which even he thought was ridiculous at the time given how he’d never even spoke to you– yet there he was, wishing you could magically switch places with this girl. 

You eventually showed up on the third week of school, back from an overseas vacation. He knows because the professor singled you out and made you explain it in front of everyone, even after explaining it was a family emergency and the school excused it. He still wasn’t satisfied and continued to grill you.

“You’re an adult, you have your own responsibilities that need to be taken care of, you clearly didn’t have the consequences in mind and thought being with your family would shield you from them. That’s not how the real world works.” 

That old fuck was just rambling at that point, he was convinced he was trying to get out of an hour long lecture and was planning to throw the blame on you. 

“Professor Gakuganji?” Satoru eventually raised hand. “Weren’t we supposed to have a lecture today?” 

“Yes, we were.” He nods then looks back at you, “You can thank your classmate for interrupting my class.”

Some students groaned at that, while some looked at the old man in disbelief since you had arrived on time. Either way it was just annoying. 

“I don’t see how that should be everyone else's problem.” He says in response, which shocks some of the students because this is the most they’ve seen him talk. It’s hard to tell who he's annoyed at right now, you or the Professor. “We pay to be here at the end of the day, sir. A lot of our parents aren’t going to be very happy about us failing a quiz on a subject that you won’t teach us.” 

That wording seemed to get him to actually do his job, but it wasn’t enough for you, you never set foot in the class again. Must’ve been humiliating to have that happen on what was the first day of school for you. No one forgot about it either, especially on the days Gakuganji felt like being an asshole and making it everyone else's problem, again. That day gets brought up by someone at least a couple times a week, mainly serving as a reminder to not expect much from the old man. 

Yet for Satoru, the story of the girl who Gakuganji grilled was a reminder of something else. He eventually realized it was never the perfume. 

You didn’t need it to continue to linger around.

When the next semester comes, he finds himself in two classes with you. 

You don't get harassed by any students this time or get singled out by the professors either. Which was great, it was harder to get that old man fired than he had originally thought. 

And that was someone who wasn’t even liked by the other staff.

As for Satoru, he still didn’t talk to you, but that’s nothing new. Up until last semester, you thought he was nothing but this shy, quiet guy that kept to himself. 

Maybe he just had social anxiety or something, so you tried not to judge him. He never causes trouble for anyone. He even let you sit next to him that one time, when he could’ve easily said no after seeing the other empty seats around him. 

It wasn’t until Gakuganjis class where it all made sense. 

He’s a pretentious dick who thinks the world revolves around him. You’d think that being in an unfair position, someone would at least stand up for you, yet Satoru Gojo decided to do the complete opposite that day. 

“Can you start the lecture already?”

“That’s not my problem.” 

“I pay to be here.” 

How about try being the one that’s paying to be scolded?

And of course the one time he speaks up, it’s about himself!

You thought karma was doing its thing when Gakuganji got fired right when winter break started, but she’s clearly got some unfinished business with you by making you be in not just one class, but two of them with him. 

For once, you were glad he ignored you.

next

a/n: HI HELLO WELCOME TO THE END OF THE FIRST CHAPTER!! tysm of reading till the end I appreciate it 😚🫶🏻 okay! notes/recap:

poor satoru with his crush and turns out reader does NOT like him

you guys he fired his therapist that's so bad ??

gojo 2 kairo 0 gakuganji 0

ooo so do we think he's evil or???? guess we'll just have to find out 🙂‍↕️

Ko-fi link if you're feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

so i know who i'm looking at! a sukuna ryomen oneshot

pairing ⸺ ghostface!sukuna x reader

summary ⸺ on halloween night, you get a strange phone call from a man with a distorted voice right as you're chilling while babysitting yuuji. you get an ultimatum: perform for him, or risk your and yuuji's lives.

warnings ⸺ smut, fluff (at the end), pre established consent but dub con just in case, cream pie, lots of degradation and praise, “good girl,” oral sex (m!recieving), recording and pictures, suggested infidelity (but it’s not actually infidelity), exhibitionism, reader gives him a show in exchange for her life, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, mdni, pls help me find artist for credit :(

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

you stretch, yawning as you adjust the blanket you had on you to cover you and give you warmth on the chilly october evening. gazing forlornly at the balcony window outside, you see kids and college students alike in their halloween costumes visiting homes for treats and bars for booze, respectively. tonight was a night you were supposed to get dicked down by your boyfriend in the bathroom of a frat, but you’re stuck instead with a last minute call to babysit yuji because he’s sick. 

you love the kid too much, like he’s your own baby. which is why you couldn’t refuse playing babysitter, even if that meant forgoing pictures for your instagram with the slutty angel costume you had bought a month who in anticipation of halloweekend. instead, you’re tucked in and cozy, watching scream for the nth time just to fangirl over how hot ghostface is. 

so you’re in your tank top and boy shorts, relaxing and chilling (that is, as much as you can while locked in on your movie). and, as if on cue, the moment the phone rings in the movie, the itadori household’s phone number gets a call.

you jump at the noise, a bit on edge because of the movie and definitely regretting the idea of setting the living room pitch back in spirit of mood lighting. groaning (albeit a bit freaked out), you get up to answer the call, as yuji babysitting protocol required that you answer any call in case it may be an emergency.  

picking up—but a bit on edge—you drone, “itadori household, how can i help you?”

there’s heavy breathing on the other end and you hate your scaredy cat tendencies because your heart is picking up at the distorted and low pants. “h—hello?”

“hey.” the voice is low, just like the breathing, and for a moment, you hate your brain for immediately recalling the nsfw audios you watch to masturbate because the guy on the phone sounds exactly like them. it’s a little freaky that you’re getting such a weird fuckin call at this time, but regardless you persist, in case this was relevant. you kind of need this job.

feigning cheerfulness, you ask, "what can i get ya?" as your fingers absently toy with the thin strap of your tank top. the cool air from the nearby vent sends a shiver across your skin, but the silence on the other end of the line is more unnerving. you're met with nothing but heavy breathing, and each exhale seems to scrape against your eardrums.

shifting uncomfortably, you feel the sweat beading at the nape of your neck as impatience builds. your fingers tighten around the receiver. "are you gonna talk or should i hang up?" you finally snap, agitation bleeding into your voice.

but before you can slam the phone down, he speaks.

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

a groan escapes you, the kind that rises from deep in your chest, exasperation overtaking any lingering nervousness. "look, buddy, this is soooo corny. like, i was literally just watching scream, so you’re not doing shit. if you wanna prank call a girl, try somewhere else because—"

“you got a boyfriend?”

“i do,” you quip back quickly, a hand on your hip as you stand straighter, eyes flicking to the doorway of the kitchen. shadows dance in the dim light, your heartbeat subtly picking up pace. you move to hang up the phone, more irritated than frightened now. “so you better not try anything funny and waste more of your time, you fu—”

“but he’s not sleeping upstairs with the kid?”

the world freezes. you pause, the phone hovering mid-air. what did he just say? your pulse quickens, each thud louder than the last as dread claws at your chest. "what?"

a laugh, deep and guttural, slithers through the receiver. it’s the kind of laugh that makes your stomach drop and your legs feel weak. his voice is smooth, velvety even, and it curls around your ear like smoke. despite the creeping fear, something primal makes your thighs clench involuntarily. “okay, now that i’ve finally got your attention, let’s try this again. what’s your name, baby?”

that word—baby—the way he drags it out, rich and slow, makes your heart stutter, even as fear wraps tighter around your ribs. you grip the edge of the counter, nails digging into the cool surface. “why do you wanna know?”

“so i know who i’m looking at.”

the room spins. your breath falters, shallow, barely there. it’s like the walls are closing in, and your throat feels thick with fear. you lick your dry lips, throat tightening painfully. “wha—what do you mean?”

a soft coo hums through the phone, mockingly sweet. “no need to be afraid, pretty baby. you don’t want the kid upstairs to die, do you?”

your blood turns to ice. the words don’t make sense at first, but when they do, it feels like the floor’s been yanked out from beneath you. your mind races, every nerve in your body screaming. “what the fuck? is this some kind of prank call? this isn’t funny.”

but the man just continues, as if he didn’t just say something so horrifying that your stomach churns. his voice remains steady, eerily calm. “the kid, how old is he? five, six? he’s dozin’ off in those stupid iron man pj’s of his.” you swear you can hear his smile through the phone, a wicked curl of satisfaction. “and i love those shorts on you. parading your ass around like the slut you are. how’d your boyfriend leave you alone tonight?”

the walls feel like they’re closing in. a cold sweat breaks out across your skin, and suddenly the room feels too small. your eyes dart toward the darkened stairs. every creak of the house becomes louder, sharper. the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you swallow, mouth dry as cotton. it feels like someone is watching—someone who shouldn’t be there.

for a second, you digest the information he’d bestowed upon you—information about yourself. not-so-subtly freaking out, you get out a “please, please don’t do this.” 

 “then gimme a show. follow what i say.”

“o—okay. what do you want me to do?” you’re trembling, your realize, in your fear. or was it arousal?

“come closer to the window,” the voice purrs. you tentatively walk up to the balcony window facing the itadori garden, awaiting instructions as you stand shivering with the chill of the air.

“now,” the voice instructs, “take your top off. gimme a show, alright? better see that fucking back arch when you’re talking it off like filthy stripper slut you are.”

you whimper in humiliation but follow his instructions anyways, slowly becoming more and more of a slave to your arousal, caused by his assured and suave voice. when you take your tank top off, back arched just like he asked, the man groans and you hear distant squelches on the other side of the line.

“good girl. now when you take that bra off, pull up your cups, but don’t take it off, leave it bunched. those tits better bounce for me.” pulling up the cups of your bra, your tits recoil and bounce and the squelching gets even louder as you feel eyes rove over your tits. “fuck, i love those tits. get on your knees and bounce em for me like you’re riding cock.” 

you clench so hard as you move to do as he says. part of you is soooo aroused to be forced around like this, so you’re easily giving him the show that he wants, getting on your knees and moving your chest so that they start rhythmically bouncing, synced up with the squelches you hear in the other side of the phone.

“stick your tongue out. drool on your tits.” you moan, your tongue lolling out as a glob of spit starts trailing down your body.

 “fuck!” he exclaims, aroused by the sight. “you like being bossed around this baby? like my little bitch?”

“no!” you sob, tears springing out at the utter humiliation you were experiencing. “please let me go, please don’t do anything to yuji!” 

the voice chuckles. “really? i think you’re lying, baby. i know that pussy is wet while you’re giving me a show. matter of fact, why don’t you show me? make sure i get a really good look at that cunt, okay?”

slipping your shorts off, you turn so that your backside is facing the lawn and uncover your traitorous pussy—glistening wet—to him. taking a few steps back, you breathe heavily—like the person on the other side of the phone—as you press your pussy against the glass, the heat and humidity originating from your inner walls fogging the area on the glass. you hear a snap! on the other side, indicated that he had taken a photo. eyes widening in panic, you ask, “what are you doing? please, i’m doing whatever you wa—”

“i can’t let everyone think you’re some innocent virgin, can i? parading your ass and pussy for me, when anyone in the neighborhood can see? matter of fact,” and you start panicking at his next words, “i’ll post this online if you don’t grind that ass back for me.”

you swallow and start to do as he says. the glass is cool as you rub your folds along it, your slick dirtying the glass as you move your folds on the glass door. of course, the glide isn’t smooth—your clit keeps catching on the glass, but the fact that you’re bare to the world, any stray eyes being able to see you on display arouses you to no extent. you’re ashamed of being aroused at having to perform for a stranger, but you continue regardless and clutch the phone in your hand as he speaks to you again.

“the fuck you so wet for?” the voice mocks you. “you get off on this shit?”

“fuck you,” you moan, continuing to rub yourself. “i hate you.” 

the man laughs meanly. “for someone you hate, you’re getting pretty wet for me, baby.” the sounds of him stroking his dick are even louder as you grind against the door at the same tempo that he moves his hand at, grunting as you continue moaning into the mic. “look at how you’re clenching—good girl. want me to come in and make you cum?”

“real fucking cocky,” you hiss into the phone, “really fuckin cocky of you to think you can make me cum. with the way you had to threaten me, i just know you have a micro.”

as soon as you say that, the call hangs up and you look at your screen in confusion. that is, until you feel hands on your bare hips, knees–covered in black fabric—pressing against the junction between your thighs. “say that again,” the voice whispers.

you turn, eyes wide and heart speeding up as you turn to see the very figure that showed up in your movie. reminiscent of the killer, a tall man in a mask is hunched over you, now moving his hands to grip at your hands. “let’s take this to the bed, shall we?”

“oh shit,” ghostface curses, continuously snapping photos of your lips, the flash going off in the dark room. “look at this,” and he brings the camera closer and closer to your pussy, using his other hand to spread your lips as you helplessly lie on the bed, forced to spread your legs for him. “this pussy clenches everytime the flash goes off!” and he’s laughing, mocking you as slick leaves your hole in drops as the utter way you’re being humiliated. he grabs your cheeks roughly with the hand that was spreading your nether regions, squeezing them together and focusing the camera on your face. “this is the slut i’m going to fuck. gonna suck my cock, right?”

“mhm,” you whimper, resigned to your fate. making quick work of his robe, he takes them off completely, still leaving his mask in place. as he uncovers his pelvis, your eyes immediately rove over the hardened muscles on his abdomen. there’s a pink happy trail leading down to his dick, which is furiously red and standing. he grabs it, pumping the length as he moves closer and closer to your face until his precum is smearing against your face.

 “fuck,” he curses, as he takes in the sight of your teary eyes looking up at him dumbly, lips puckered as he slaps his cock against your cheeks until your cheeks are turning red. you’re giving kitten licks to his tip every time he alternates between slapping your two cheeks, not knowing what do to with yourself except focus on your oral fixation telling you instinctively to suck his cock. he then uses his fingers to pull your mouth open and slowly feeds his cock inside, eyes rolling back as soon as he feels your warm breath and hot tongue encompass him. 

you’re sucking at his tip and alternating between licking the rest of his dick, and he’s lost in the tight, wet heat of your mouth hollowing around him. you then prop yourself on your knees, using your hands to grab and play with his balls, stimulating him even more and causing him to rip out of your mouth and growls, “on your hands and knees. now.”

he doesn’t give you sufficient time to turn around and fully adjust in your position as he’s slamming into your roughly, the wet plush of your pussy too enticing. because you didn’t see it coming, your face is smushed against the pillow, and he grabs at your hands, using his free hand to hold them together at the small of your back. 

“you like my cock, baby?”  he pants, sweat beginning to run down his torso. when you don’t respond, he lets go of your hands to smack you consecutive times on your ass. “answer me.”

“i love it sooo much,” you babble, too lost in the pleasure to form more coherent thoughts as you ramble. “it’s splitting me—oh my god.” your eyes roll back—in pain or pleasure, you can’t decide—as his cock kisses your cervix. the masked man keeps thrusting in you, the sounds of his hips smacking into yours echoing throughout your room in a series of plap plap plap’s. 

“yea? fuck, i’m so close. you wanna live baby?” he grabs your hair and pulls, giving you a sloppy wet kiss on your cheek. “let me come inside. you’ll let me dump my cum in you, right?”

you only clenched tighter at his words. “please,” you sobbed. “please come inside. please paint my walls. i want your cum so bad.” 

you were so close, staving off your orgasm until he filled you up. at your words, the intruder laughed mockingly and kept thrusting into you, but the telltale sloppiness of his hips indicated that he was close. “god, what a slut—” he was interrupted by his own climax, and as soon as the thick ropes of cum filled you, you came with a squeal, your back arching impossibly further as your thrashed on his dick because of the intensity of your orgasm. both of you rid it together, panting as you came down. 

he pulls out of you, and before you can catch your breath, the man flops his entire weight on top of you, making you laugh as you let out a startled exclamation, “ryo!”

you squirm beneath him, trying to push him off, but it’s futile. he’s far too big and heavy, and he knows it. with a low, lazy chuckle, your boyfriend, sukuna ryomen, removes his mask—tossing it carelessly onto the floor—before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath is warm against your skin, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as his chest rises and falls in rhythm with your own.

“did you enjoy that stupid thing you wanted, brat?” he mumbles, slightly panting in exhaustion.

his words are snarky, but you can hear the affection laced beneath them. your heart swells with a sudden rush of warmth, the fondness you feel for him almost overwhelming. it’s moments like this—where he does something ridiculous just because you asked, despite all his grumbling—that remind you why you love him so much.

you wrap your arms around his broad back, fingers trailing lazily up and down his spine as you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. “you didn’t have to go all out, you know,” you whisper, smiling into his hair. “but i really appreciate it. you’re kind of the best, even when you pretend you’re not.”

ryomen grunts, but there’s no bite to it. he tightens his hold around you, his large frame practically cocooning you in warmth. you feel his lips brush softly against the skin of your neck, a tender gesture that contrasts with his usual roughness.

“yeah, well... you’re lucky i love you, freak,” he murmurs, voice low and husky. despite his usual bravado, there’s something undeniably soft in the way he says it, as if the words are meant just for you.

you hum contentedly, feeling the weight of his body press you into the mattress. it’s comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. you trace circles on his back with your fingertips, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, where it’s just you and him—no roleplay, no teasing—just the quiet aftermath of love.

“lucky, huh?” you tease back softly. “i’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

ryomen huffs a quiet laugh against your skin before lifting his head slightly to look at you, his dark eyes soft in the dim light. then, he gets up and makes a move to walk out the door. at first, you thought he was heading towards the bathroom door to give you a towel to clean you up, but he’s heading towards the door—soft cock swinging, butt naked—and you’re only left in confusion as to what he’s doing.

“ryo, where are you going?”

“fixin myself a sandwich, i’m hungry,” he grumbles over his shoulder, leaving you dumbfounded. you’re left sitting on the bed as he continues the trek down the stairs to satiate his post sex hungries. 

“hey!” you shriek, “your balls are out! what if yuji sees?” 

later, when yuji walks deliriously into the kitchen to see his uncle’s cock and balls, he almost wishes he could fully succumb to his fever.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n hehe i love fluffy sukuna. consider joining my kinktober taglist if you'd like!

taglist:

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto

@stvksn on ig

☆ Something about you - S. Kusuo

synopsis: Saiki Kusuo Boyfriend Headcanons

pairing: Saiki Kusuo x fem! reader

warnings: fluff! (kinda ooc saiki sorry guys 😓)

❝ There was something 'bout you that now i can't remember ❞

- Saiki Kusuo, a physic who thinks everyone around him is annoying, who would've thought that he was capable of having a girlfriend?

- Saiki Kusuo who has a soft spot for his girlfriend

- Saiki Kusuo who would take you to dreamy dates, literally. such as a date in Paris or going to Korea, or even going to the moon if you want yes he would do anything for you

- Saiki Kusuo who would be so annoyed to Nendou and Kaido for interrupting your time together for some ramen

- Saiki Kusuo who's mother absolutely adores you

- Saiki Kusuo who brought you to his grandparents and ofcourse his grandpa was already planning his speech for your wedding for once saiki agrees to his grandpa's ideas

- Saiki Kusuo who would give up his coffee jelly for you. YES! HIS COFFEE JELLY. he would gladly give it to you

- Saiki Kusuo who always wants to spend time with you

- Saiki Kusuo who puts your safety above anyone

- Saiki Kusuo who would be very scared to tell their s/o about his physic powers, thinking if he would be hated by them

- Saiki Kusuo who would love you eternally and would do anything for you

a/n: HI GUYSS HUHU SO SORRY IT'S KINDA OOC 😓😓 hope you all like it though, next post would be a kny post about Tomioka Giyuu UWKAAAJAJAAK TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!

- cheatea ☁️

Nanami is so bbg, chat

are you a lightweight nanami..?

ac: matchapichai

disclaimer: very much inspired by cdrama the princess royal and taking some elements from webtoon the broken ring: this marriage will fail anyway but of course, with my own twist here and there 🥹

Woah lost media

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 | kang dae-ho

—summary: a sudden closeness of you and player 333 makes dae-ho's usually sweet mood swing in the opposite way, triggered by pure jealousy. why would you ever need anyone else when you've got him right there? —pairing: kang dae-ho/player 388 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —contains: +18, smut !!! (minors dni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, really passionate sex, voyeurism, public sex, sub dae-ho!!! (canon), slight praise kink if you squint, he talks to you through it, jealous and possessive behavior, fluff, dae-ho being so in love with the reader.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

Kang Dae-ho had been protecting you ever since he had helped you survive Green Light, Red Light, the first game of all this hell in disguise as a promising new opportunity.

Not knowing you from absolutely nothing, he stepped right in front of you, stretching a hand out to the back to hold yours and guide you across the arena, playing human shield until together, you had crossed the finish line. 

And that basically summed up the kind of person Dae-ho is; kind-hearted, courageous, selfless, caring. He was one of the best people you had ever met and he was making this whole calvary into something much better, something brighter, something to keep fighting for until you made it out of there.

Since that, he had stuck by your side, practically standing as your own shadow, constantly putting you first, looking out for your well-being and safety. Without him, you would probably be dead by now, devoid of purpose.

The other players had already gotten used to seeing the two of you together, always watching each other's backs and fooling around and strategizing. Through thick and thin, you were together.

It was only a matter of time —hours—; before something else began to spark between the two of you, growing every time your hands brushed, or when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders or when your bodies cocooned in each other's warmth at night when you slept. A tension was just starting to build, an emotion that for some reason, would always make Dae-ho nervous and flustered, whenever you'd smile at him or clasp his bicep to be by his side every time Gi-hun related a story from his past experience at the games, or when you'd lean your head on his shoulder or when you'd hug each other every time a game ended.

Whatever it was, out of the same feeling, Dae-ho sensed a heaviness in the pit of his stomach, feeling as if his guts were constricting like a viper, every time you chatted with the 333 player.

He looks at you from the distance, frowning slightly as you laugh at something the guy says, he doesn't even know why he dislikes him so much... he just does.

“Why are you all puckered up?” Jung-bae questions him, pausing his own story to express concern for his teammate's face, following his gaze until he finds you, naturally.

Dae-ho clicks his tongue, shaking his head gently, his tone of voice fluctuating between disbelief and annoyance, "Why is she even over there? It's dangerous"

“Dangerous? Buddy, she's just talking to him. He saved her in the last game, remember?” Jung-bae answers him, confused by the uncharacteristic grumpy attitude of the younger man, used to the sight of him being so cheerful and jovial and optimistic.

“If it weren't for him, she wouldn't be here,” Young-il adds, also glancing at how you whisper with player 333, “She's just being polite.”

But Dae-ho huffs humorlessly, forcing his eyes to drag from you to Jung-bae standing in front of him, his fingers still grasping his fork tightly, not really feeling like eating lunch today, “Bullshit, I would've saved her anyway. She didn't need him.”

Gi-hun rolls his eyes, sitting by his side as he quietly observes the whole scene, chewing a mouthful of rice, “You're just jealous, man, admit it,” he pronounces with his mouth half full, eyes attentively scanning Dae-ho's reaction.

The whole group of men laugh upon seeing Dae-ho's face morph to one of embarrassment and some offense, cheeks blushing furiously at Gi-hun's fake allegation.

“I'm n-not jealous” he tries to defend himself with a stuttering voice, looking frantically around the amused faces of the men around him, his fingers letting his fork drop by his twitching and nervous state, attracting the attention of a few players who were nearby, including yours, which only makes Dae-ho to blush even redder.

Jung-bae smiles playfully, picking up the fork that had fallen to the ground, “And you're being overdramatic.”

“I am not!” Dae-ho squeals, his brow furrowing as he stands up and yanks the fork out of Jung-bae's hand. As the whole group laughs at him, his eyes again search for you in the crowd, finding you in record time, and his whole face darkens again as he notices the way your hand is resting down the player 333's forearm, like you would usually do with him.

He sighs heavily and for the first time, he seriously considers the words of the older men.

Time passes unnoticed within that place, hours perhaps, days? No one really knows.

But the warning that the lights go out in thirty minutes usually means that you should lie down and rest for the next event that the monsters who created this have planned for you all.

The first thing you notice when you arrive at the bed you share with Dae-ho, is that he is lying on his side with his back to you, which concerns you a little, since he never had his back to you when he would sleep.

Something is off.

“Dae-ho?” you call out his name in a gentle whisper, sitting down on the bunk and looking across the broadness of his back with worried eyes, “Are you okay?”

No response.

“Hey,” you try again gently, thinking that maybe he's not exactly having a good day, considering the current situation you're stuck in.

Dae-ho is feeling his chest heaving as he senses your hand laying on his shoulder, fingers delicately squeezing his flesh beneath the tracksuit jacket. 

And suddenly, he's cracking up.

“I'm trying to sleep” and yet, he replies to you curtly, without showing even the slightest sign of rolling over and wanting to actually look at you.

You admire his back with unconvinced eyes for a moment, lying down on the bed and resting your head on the pillow, your hand moving from his shoulder, down his back, across his shoulder blades, before dropping to the surface of the bed.

“You sound off.”

Dae-ho considers his options; whether to just keep talking to you in that oh-so-ungentlemanly way —which made him physically cringe—; whether to express everything he was feeling or just stay quiet and pretend to sleep.

In any case, he acts on impulse, rolling over so he can finally look at you, his eyes softening the instant they meet yours, his heart beating hard and fast, pounding in his ears.

“It's not good for you to associate with players outside our group,” he suddenly blurts out and sees how you just stare at him with further confusion washing over your pretty face, “It could be dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” you inquire, silently urging him to elaborate on his point. You are quick to notice how deadly serious his face is, his lips lightly pursed and his eyes solemn, a look that is unusual on him. You don't like to see him like that, like everyone there usually acted.

“Player 333,” he replies, jaw clenched, his eyes following you as you sat up again on the bed, looking down at him in sheer confusion, as if somehow, you aren't recognizing him, “I saw the way he was looking at you.”

He sounds... hurt? Disappointed?

“Lee Myung-gi” your face turns enlightened, finally understanding what he's referring to now.

Dae-ho deflects his gaze away from yours, slightly rolling his eyes. Whatever that idiot's name was...

“I was just talking to him. He saved me in the last game, Dae-ho,” you explain in an overly naive tone, a little smile curving the corner of your lips, “I went to thank him”

“But I am the one doing that, that's why I'm here. You didn't need him, you have me,” he retorts back to you instantly, your name being pronounced by his lips like a plea for mercy, gesturing to himself with his hand for emphasis on his words. Your brow furrows at the same time as his, your lips turning into a small pout, feeling like a scolded child, “I was going to save you anyway! You only need me, no one else...”

His voice fades the more he speaks, shaky hand brushing through his loose hair. And now you notice it, the betrayed and hurt expression on his face, his eyes hiding something more than friendliness, something much deeper and bigger.

He is jealous.

“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?” you are questioning him, getting more comfortable on the mattress, your voice keeping low so as not to wake the others, but also firm on your side of the little argument. You had done nothing wrong, “He was just being a good companion—”

“He didn't seem to be performing the good companion role,” Dae-ho interrupts you, spitting out the words as if they were venomous, rising himself up to also sit on the bed and face you, gesticulating with his hands, his tone of voice is fueled by sarcasm and subtle irony now, “I didn't like the way he was looking at you... neither how you were touching him with your hand.”

He crosses his arms and resembles a sulky kid who's had his favorite toy taken away, but you're too pissed off to pause and laugh at him.

Instead, you roll your eyes, starting to unbutton your jacket, feeling too hot all of a sudden, Dae-ho's eyes follow your fingers as they pull down the zipper, “You're being overdramatic.”

"I'm not!" he gasps-whispers, expression offended, he genuinely does seem to be feeling betrayed by what you had done. He leans close to you, so close that you feel the natural warmth of his body, but you stand your ground, looking at him with baffled eyes, his gaze remains soft yet aching, “I'm just looking out for you.”

“You'd rather I touch your arm then?” you raise an eyebrow on your forehead, dropping the jacket by the bottom of the bed, holding his gaze, “Is that what this is all about?”

The effect of your words in instantaneous on Dae-ho, blushing and causing him to pull away from you rather abruptly, brushing his hand through his hair again like a maniac.

“Yes,” he replies with certainty, the word barging into his throat before he could even think of a reasonable response, so he shakes his head slightly, “I mean no— I mean yes—” he cuts himself off, flustered by your attentive gaze, “—that's not the point! The point is that you don't need to go to anyone else when you have me right here.”

He gulps hard, eagerly waiting for your reaction through desperate, sheepish eyes.

“I know,” you whisper, letting out a soft sigh from your mouth, switching to a more empathetic postur. Then you nod your head and stretch out a hand towards him, who wastes no second in reaching out to take it and pull it close to his chest, nuzzling your knuckles with his thumb, “But he just dragged me with him, I couldn't do much,” you offer him a small apologetic smile, “I know you would have saved me anyway, Dae-ho.”

“Of course,” he murmurs your name, bringing your hand to his mouth to press his lips onto your knucles, kissing your smooth skin, “You're not alone, you're with me. You are everything...”

Without saying anything, you move closer to him and hug him. Dae-ho is more than happy to reciprocate your embrace, wrapping his beefy arms around your waist and hiding his face in your neck, breathing in your sweet and comforting scent, the scent he so adores. You feel his warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck and a shiver runs through you from head to toe.

One of your hands goes up to his head, caressing his hair, fingers sinking into his dark long locks, the soothing and so intimate touch making him sigh.

“You're jealous,” you murmur after a moment of comfortable, heart-warming silence, and he stiffens, his body freezing, you can feel the way his muscles tense against yours.

Dae-ho pulls away from you just a little, far enough to be able to look at you, offering you a sheepish little smile, his cheeks blushing from all the attention and touch and closeness, the way you're talking and looking at him has him breathless.

“Maybe a little,” his expression shifts to one of shame as he dares to confess, valiantly enough to hold your gaze, letting himself fall into the gentleness of your eyes, always so lively and playful, but as beautiful and sparkling as a pair of gemstones, with your long lashes brushing your cheekbones every time you blink.

His hands gently squeeze your waist, contouring your curves and fitting into them perfectly, as if crafted for him to touch and hold.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweets,” you assure him, like a promise, a complicity, leaning into him again.

Dae-ho swallows loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels your beautiful soft lips press down onto his throat, kissing his bouncing Adam's apple. He can feel himself in heaven, letting himself be swept up by the way you are treating him, the way your hands run down his body, passing down his chest until they stop at his midsection, just at the moment your tongue traces across his skin, making him hiss, feeling all the air being knocked out of his lungs.

“Fuck— ngh,” he whimpers, his whole body aching with heat, his heart pumping hot blood into his crotch, heartbeats matching up with each of your wet kisses on his neck.

His big hands wander over your waist, lightly caressing your lower back, fingers barely grazing the curve of your ass above the fabric of your tracksuit pants, clasping the flesh, pressing you helplessly against his body. His touch is needy, but nonetheless respectful, as gentlemanly as ever.

“Is this okay?” comically enough he's the one to ask as your mouth reaches his chin by a wet trail of soft kisses through his skin and he almost feels himself cumming into his boxers by the way you open your eyes to look up at him, pupils dilated in pleasure.

You sigh out a soft chuckle and your breath crashes against his half-open lips, needily breathing in your air, breathing you in. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of his jacket.

“You want this?”

It's stupid that you even had the mere thought of that question.

“Yes, please, baby— please,” Dae-ho rushes to answer, hands squeezing everything they could grab from you, desperately, “Can I kiss yo—”

Before he managed to formulate the question your lips are on his and from one second to the next he pulls you close to sit on his lap, making you feel his erection press against the underside of your thigh.

Frantically, between kisses, tongues recognizing each other and hands grasping what they can of the other, he helps you to remove his shirt, breaking away for just a moment to pull it over his head, looking at you with eyes darkened with desire.

He groans against your mouth as you kiss again, your teeth nibbling gently on his bottom lip.

“Shh...” you coo against his lips, pushing him down to make his back lay against the bed, “You don't want the others to hear, do you?”

A playful smile stretches at the corner of his lips, squeezing your butt once you leaned over him to begin kissing his chest, his eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling the way your back arches.

“I wouldn't mind if 333 listens—”

“Dae-ho,” you name him disapprovingly, but your eyes are heavy with playfulness and longing.

He gazes adoringly up as you take off your shirt, eyes roaming down your neck, across your chest, down your stomach.

“You're so pretty, fuck— come here,” he tugs you closer to him to kiss you one more time, his hands detaching from your hips to lift his own, pulling down his pants and his now, wrecked boxers, clumsily sliding the waistband of the cloth down his thighs.

His dick springs free and it has you open-mouthed, staring down at it with eyes of raw longing and adoration. His mushroom-shaped, leaking, needy head bumps barely against his lower abdomen, lining up with his happy trail.

Dae-ho blushes under your gaze, one of his hands caresses your hip to attract your attention back to his face.

“Can you handle it, baby?” his tone of voice lowers sheepishly.

Your cunt pulsates around nothing from his words only and in less than ten seconds, you're stripping off your pants too, pulling your soaking wet panties aside. He can actually feel how wet you are when your pussy barely brushes against his bare crotch, he has to resist to keep from cumming right there.

“I can— fuck, yeah— I can handle it,” you babble tremblingly through gentle gasps as he reaches his cock, stroking it three times before he aligns it with your inviting hole, rubbing it slowly up and down your slit to scoop up all of your wetness, and use it as a natural lube.

Dae-ho bites down on his lower lip to muffle a moan that ascends his throat, feeling the head of his cock push up into the tight entrance of your pussy, plunging between your slick folds.

He leans his forehead flat against your chest, nestling right between your breasts, his whole body trembling from a riot of pleasure, muffling his moans and noises against your skin.

“Shit, y-you're— h-hah— you're so wet,” he raspes out into your bare skin, his lips slurring insults and name-calling you like a prayer, a poem through your sweaty skin, his tongue rolls out from between his parted lips, coating your skin with his drool. 

His hands are roaming over your hips, each digit digging into the fat of your ass, never applying weight, giving you all the time you needed to settle onto his size, yet his voice was desperate and eager with anticipation, “So tight— so pretty.”

Your lips are pressed against the crown of his head, breathing shakily as you begin to lower yourself into him achingly slow, drawing a gasp from both of you. Your palms squeeze his broad shoulders, suppressing the urge to cry out with every inch he is pushing his way inside you, your pussy fluttering and squishing him deeper.

“Yeah, just like that, that's it,” Dae-ho is praising you, pressing sloppy kisses all over your tits, fingers caressing your lower back while his other hand pats your ass appraisingly, “just a little more, baby, a little m-more and I'm all yours— I'm yours.”

His words really touch your very core, hand sliding up his neck to sink into his hair and pull it, making him hiss as he licks your nipple. Your pussy swallows another inch of him and you feel him in your fucking guts by now. He feels your squishy walls clench around him like a vice and he refuses to even think about the possibility of a life without feeling like this again.

“Dae-ho,” you whimper his name as the bulging tip of his cock reaches a particular spongy spot and instantly your whole body reacts as well.

“Mh-hm,” his lips lick and kiss your collarbone all the way up your neck and then he kisses your lips, “I'm here. I got you, I always got you,” his eyes finally lock with yours again and you nearly feel every single muscle and organ in your abdomen twitch when you notice tears being held back in them, all from the flood of pleasure and bliss your body is giving him.

He can feel himself in heaven, beneath you, his hips grinding up into yours as his cock is plunged so deep inside you.

Dae-ho kisses you again, intoxicated, a thread of spit remains connecting your mouths once you part.

A few more long seconds and you're all the way down sitting on him, his heavy, throbbing balls pressed flush against your ass. Your pussy envelops him thoroughly, molding into his shape as you breathe a deep sigh and Dae-ho breathes out as well when your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

“There you are, my baby, you're doing s-so good,” he croaks, fondling your backside affectionately, feeling your dampness dripping down his thighs, “Holy shit you feel good... I'm so deep—”

And when you start to move on top of him, he has to close his eyes, his sweaty palms pawing your ass, hopeless for your mercy. 

But you have no mercy, your pussy, your thighs, your fucking hips, the way you look down at him and ride him, giving him whiplash with every bounce. And he can swear he knows you from another life, from the way his cock forms a shape inside you, reaching parts within you that no one else has been capable of reaching before, as if your body was made for him— no, as if he was made to fit your body.

“My God—” he hiccups and you press your forehead against his, seeking his lips with yours to silence you both, pushing him down until he's lying flat on the mattress.

The bunk just barely creaks beneath the relentless sway of your hips slamming into his, ass bumping hard down on his thighs, taking him all the way down and up again, so deep that every time you bottom out you feel him in your fucking throat.

“You feel so good, baby,” you whine, looking down at him and all of his body is reacting to the petname.

You take in the gorgeous sight that is his face flushed with utter pleasure, eyes squinting, sweaty arms wrapping all around you and holding you impossibly close, his lower belly tensed and cramped.

He looks so pussy drunk, drinking and drinking in your body and essence, everything you provide. The tought makes you feel your insides flip, squeezing into a knot. And Dae-ho feels it too.

You bend down, lips falling onto his shoulder, trailing down to the tattoo on his side and when your tongue traces the black ink, exactly when his engorged tip brushes against your fucking cervix and your ass does a particularly powerful bounce on his thick thighs, he starts to feel his body twitching, reaching that exquisite release. He begins to cum, wracked by a rush of erotic bliss that has him seeing stars in the pitch-black.

His hips begin to meet yours in mid-between your wild bouncing and your pussy squelches around his cock, ready to take in all he has to give.

“I'm cumming— hah— b-baby, where—” he babbles through breathy hiccups and whimpers, his body is flushing, seeking your gaze with half-closed eyes, his chest gasping fast.

You kiss his tattoo one more time before answering him, having the nerve to smirk, as if you aren't jumping his bones, “Inside— mhm— fill me up, Dae-ho,” your eyes finally meet his and you squish his biceps, “please,” you beg him, with tears on your eyes.

“Holy shit— you don't have to convince me, love” he growls out hoarsely, and you have never hear him insult so much in such a short span of time. He kiss the corner of your lips messily, “I'm so fucking deep, you take it so well, baby— fuck.”

He chokes on his own voice and squeezes your hips until his palms are molded into your flesh. His tip touches that special squishy spot inside you again and you're cumming with him, both of you riding your own high, sinking into each other's bodies, souls becoming one. Straight into the core of the storm of pleasure.

His trembling fingers eventually loosen his grip on your ass, but his imprint stays right there, flushed. His cock softens deep inside you and you can feel it still spurting hot ropes up into your womb. Dae-ho whimpers flush against your mouth, gasping for breath. And you know you might as well die right there, tangled with his body.

Your head is empty, blurry with him and only him, your hips keep rolling on their own motion, slower. Your pussy squelches, full of him, the friction only makes him chant your name over and over in raspy whispers, like a hymn. Your orgasm is rough and strong, rocking your body like an earthquake. It makes you moan his name and he cuts you off, kissing you senselessly.

“Thank you, thank you...” he mumbles repeatedly against your mouth, hissing once you stop all movement on top of him. And he kisses you again, appreciatively, lovingly.

Dae-ho throws his head back on the bunk, trying to catch his breath, his hands drop to your thighs, always with a possessive hold, groping around for your ass, pressed down on his trembling thighs.

And it's ridiculous how absolutely majestic he looks there under you, in an afterglow that has him breathless, eyes narrowed and lost stare, gazing upwards as if he's suspended in paradise. His entire abdomen is sweaty and you hold back the urge to run your tongue across his cute little tummy, since your body is slowly beginning to give in to exhaustion, your legs wobbling.

You are satisfied with tracing your fingers along his sweaty skin, touching what were strong muscles, now softened under your thumbprints. Your hand makes an appreciative path up his pecs and he comes back to reality with the touch, looking up at you and patting your ass lightly, his gaze softening as he met your eyes amidst the darkness. The look of love.

“Don't do that, I'm about to get hard again,” he murmurs in a playful voice, a little sheepish smile growing on his lips. He is blushing, like he's not balls deep inside you, his cum leaking out of your cunt and trickling down your thighs.

You let out a sleepy chuckle, leaning down and snuggling close into his chest, his arms wrap around your shoulders and he tugs a blanket over the two of you.

“I had to take you on a date first,” Dae-ho blurts out suddenly, sounding more like he's talking to himself than to you, but you do manage to hear him, yet not really understanding what he's trying to say.

“What?” you ask curiously, still a little dizzy, fingers tracing light caresses on his chest, right where his heart is.

He clears his voice, bowing his chin so he can look down at you, gaze full pure love and adoration, his fingertips soothingly caressing your spine as he answers you in a hushed whisper, “I was supposed to take you on a date before.... all of this.”

You smile bashfully against his chest, looking up at him with big, soft eyes, “Well, we're not exactly in a position where having a date is doable, Dae-ho.”

But he is confident on the subject, fingers drawing little circles on the small of your back, “After we get out of this, I'll pick you up at your house and take you to the fanciest restaurant.”

You kiss him tenderly. 

And he smiles like he's actually in love.

“I'll be waiting for you in my best dress, then.”

Someone once said to me, “I hope the pain eases soon.” It struck me as the purest blessing that had ever been offered over my head - I hope the pain eases soon. It’s so gentle, so kind, so hopeful. So to everyone who’s hurting: I see how hard you’re trying, and I hope your pain will ease soon.

Warnings: single dad! baji, preschool teacher! reader.

Notes: this one right here could be- I mean- maybe…unedited read at your own risk.

Keisuke is panicking.

He keeps glancing in his rear view mirror at his little girl who’s happily humming along to whatever is playing from her iPad.

She doesn’t seem to share the same bone chilling fear as him. His grip on the steering wheel is tight enough that his knuckles have gone white.

They’re fifteen minutes away from his daughter’s official first day of school and Baji is five seconds away from turning this car around and taking her to work with him.

She giggles in the backseat and Baji swallows a lump of emotion and sighs when it settles in the pit of his stomach like lead.

“You excited princess?”

Her little head bobs, her pigtails (and the giant bows tied around each one) sways with the motion.

“Words Kaori, remember to use your words,” he reminds her.

“Yes daddy,” she replies, eyes falling to her iPad once more.

Baji gulps when the gates to the school come into view. He takes a deep breath and pulls into the driveway. The parking lot isn’t full because he’s twenty minutes early. When he finds a spot however his panic mounts.

This is real. This is happening. His daughter is starting school.

“We’re here!” she squeals when she finally looks up from the screen. She wriggles in her car seat, clearly wanting out.

Baji frowns.

“Daddy!” she insists. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Baji wants to cry. “Okay, princess. Okay,” he resigns himself to being miserable for the rest of the day. Perhaps for the rest of his existence. This is where it all starts. With school.

He hoists her out of the car seat and grabs her backpack and lunchbox. Keisuke is extremely proud of the fact that he, Keisuke Baji, despite his questionable past, has raised a daughter on his own.

He’d had to learn to comb and take care of hair other than his own (a lot goes into having healthy hair apparently), accept the color pink (of which there were over fifty shades), pretend tea parties didn’t make him uncomfortable (it’s the chairs), wear glitter make up (glitter can never be cleaned correctly), sing and dance (he’s a performer but only for her) and of course, what self respecting father of a girl hadn’t perfect mani/pedis.

His life had taken a dramatic three sixty when Kaori was born. But there wasn’t a single day since then that he regretted. He loves her more than he can actually put into words.

Which explained why he was on the verge of tears as he fit his arm through the strap of her sparkly, pink backpack and wrapped his hand around her much smaller one.

On the steps leading up to the front doors stood Kaori’s teacher. He’d met you previously when he’d registered Kaori and even then, dressed in jeans and a t shirt you’d been beautiful. His panic subsides a little when you give him a small smile.

“Mr. Baji,” you barely spare him a glance and Baji might have been insulted if not for the way your gaze immediately drops to his daughter. “And you must be little Kaori,” you squat to her level and Baji’s heart stutters. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you! Your daddy has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” Kaori asks, and Baji lifts a brow at her when she turns to him with a skeptical look on her face.

“I have,” Baji replies. “This is your teacher Kaori,” he holds his breath as his daughter eyes you. Kaori Baji isn’t shy. In fact she’s one of the most outspoken kids he’s ever met. It’s easy to know when she dislikes someone or something because she has no problem pointing it out. It’s whether she likes someone or not that’s the real issue.

“Do you like tea parties?” Kaori asks, and Baji knows this is the million dollar question. One wrong answer and today could easily turn into a shit show.

“Oh,” you gush. “I love tea parties! Do you wanna see my tea set?”

Baji blinks, eyes widening when Kaori releases his hand and takes a step toward you. She nods and then as though catching herself she responds. “Yes, please.”

“Fantastic! But you’ll have to say goodbye to daddy,” you say carefully. “Is that okay?”

Baji’s breath leaves him in a pained rush. His panic coming back full force. He purses his lips, eyes glued to Kaori as she considers your request.

She turns to Baji motioning for him to come closer. He squats. “You have to go,” she says, and Baji’s heart shrivels.

“I know princess,” his throat burns, as he pulls the backpack from his shoulder and helps Kaori into it. “Will you be okay without me?”

Kaori gives him a look like she’s offended and Baji might have laughed under different circumstances. She frowns, stepping into his arms when he spreads them for her. Her little arms wrap around his neck tightly. Baji’s eyes close briefly, his heart thundering as he squeezes her. When he opens them he finds your eyes on him.

Kaori steps out of his arms. “I’ll be okay,” she confirms.

Keisuke glances from her to you and then back to her. “Okay,” he presses a kiss to her forehead, and stands. You stand with him and Kaori takes your hand.

“First days are always the hardest,” you comment.

Baji can only smile weakly at you as you guide Kaori deeper into the school. His daughter turns and gives him a short dismissive wave before turning her full attention on you.

Baji stands there long enough that the parking lot starts to fill up.

She’ll be fine he tells himself when he finally forced himself to leave. She’s a big girl he repeats as he forced himself not to think about what could be happening to her now.

It’s only a couple of hours, she’ll be fine.