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Gojo: Y/N kissed me!

Geto, gasping: No!

Shoko, squealing: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!

Gojo: It was unbelievable.

Geto: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!

Shoko: Okay, okay, we wanna hear everything. Geto, get the wine and unplug the phone. Gojo, does this end well or do we need tissues?

Gojo: Oh it ended verrrry well.

Geto, rushing over with wine glasses: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Shoko: Alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it like a soft brush against your lips, or was it like a, y'know, “I gotta have you now” kinda thing?

Gojo: Well, at first it was really intense, y'know, and then… oh god, and then we just sorta sunk into it…

Geto & Shoko, squealing: Awwwwww!!!

[Cut to Nanami and Y/N casually eating pizza around the table]

Y/N: And uh, and then I kissed him.

Nanami: Tongue?

Y/N: Yeah.

Nanami: Cool.

Hope They Catch Us - G.S.

Synopsis. When you’re on-screen, it’s always a rivalry to see who’s best - you just never thought that it would be the same struggle in bed.

Pairing. Actor! Gojo Satoru x Co-Star! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, co-stars to lovers, unprotected, oral (fem receiving) slight exhíbitionism (stuff with cameras), marking, praise, Satoru is actually down BAD, cúmplay, tabloids, lowkey fluffy at the end, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.5k

A/N. YA GIRL IS BACKKKK ;D Also happy belated three months to this blog hehehe.

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---

You hated him. Oh, how you hated him. All because of a red-hot rivalry that had sparked ever since the two of you took the industry by storm. And everyone from Hollywood’s bigshots to your adoring fans knew that no matter where Gojo Satoru goes, you were sure to never be within a ten-mile radius. 

Well, usually. 

“I…shit- I’m in love with you.” 

Because avoiding Gojo like a plague really isn’t saying much when said plague was currently sitting right next to you. Eyes boring into yours, signature smirk plastered on his face while he rattles off a disgustingly sweet confession - all on the set of your latest movie. 

Somehow, in a cruel twist of fate, your co-star. 

And to add insult to injury, this wasn’t just any movie - it was only set to be the biggest romance film of the summer. So not only did you hate to tolerate Gojo, you had to pretend to be in love with him. 

Perfect. Great. Wonderful. If only the check wasn’t as tempting as it was, you think he would’ve successfully driven you to an aneurysm already. Especially considering that the scene tomorrow was-

“CUT!” 

That snaps you out of your little reverie, bringing you back to the still very ongoing film shooting. You risk a glance at the disgruntled director, cheeks aching from the sappy fake smile you had to hold for this scene.

“Something wrong?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. You knew exactly what was wrong. And one look at Gojo - dressed to the nines and huffing sulkily at being interrupted in the middle of his monologue - told you that he did as well.

“It just doesn’t feel real.” The director shuffles his script, voice dropping to a sigh at your confused gazes. “The spark, it doesn't feel real.”

“What?” you silently thank your years of acting for keeping your voice steady. You squirm in your seat the longer the silence stretches. This cozy little café they rented out too tight, Gojo’s fingers intertwined with yours too hot. Too soft. 

“C’mon. You are in the perfect romantic set-up.” the other man gestures wearily at the café, at the dim-lighting and the proximity of your seats. “So why do you two look like you want to just- strangle each other?”

“Ooo kinky~”

It’s the first time Gojo’s spoken up since the scene was ended early and honestly that was enough to have you fulfilling the director’s suspicions. 

“That.” you give him a pointed stare. “That is probably why.”

And that just draws out such an infuriatingly light chuckle from Gojo, as he sprawls all over his chair with the audacity of someone that owned this entire set. “Lighten up. You’ve told us, n’ in the next take I’ll fix it. Easy peasy.”

If only it was that “easy peasy”. The director was anything but satisfied, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “It’s not just me, even the public is worried whether your ‘feud’ will get in the way of such intimate scenes. You-” he jabs a finger your way. “-better pretend like you want to kiss him senseless and you-” whirling now to Gojo. “-better act like you’ve wanted nothing more for years- Not to mention tomorrow’s sex scene-”

Ah, right. The sex scene. 

How could you forget? It might not be a walk in the park to giggle and make heart-eyes at Gojo, but to actually pretend to have sex with him? All on camera? Curse whoever wrote this damn script. You could’ve almost laughed at the universe’s absolutely awful sense of humor if it hadn’t been for your paycheck - and the next words that tumble out of Gojo’s pretty mouth. 

“We’ll ace it, you just watch.” 

You hurriedly snap your eyes to meet Gojo’s, sending him a look that says “behave”, in a way that very much makes him not want to. Twinkling with such dangerous mischief that makes your stomach flip as he hums, “Or- I’ll ace it.”

God, was it a battle to remain professional. The only thing stopping you from snapping back being the way he squeezes your hand mockingly reassuringly - to which you send him a death grip back, of course. 

“Oh? Care to elaborate, Mr. Gojo?” the director asks, eyes flitting between the two of you. And you can’t even laugh at the rest of the staff for almost toppling out of their seats in an attempt to hear his answer - because you are, too. Mind whirling as you lean closer, wondering just what nonsense would come out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“Well, you could say…” he trails off suspensefully, like the smug bastard he is. Looking right in your eyes as he flashes an unfairly pretty smile your way. “I’m irresistible like that.”

Exactly the type of nonsense that would come out of Gojo Satoru, of course. And one glance at the director told you he was thinking the same thing. He was going to be the death of you. You can’t help but breathe out shrilly, “You fucking-”

“My apologies, director, but our leads have a scheduled interview soon. Rest assured, we will be early on set for filming tomorrow.”

You were definitely giving Nanami a raise after this. 

Because if looks could kill then Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on his grace already - and you let him know. A little over twenty times, actually, as the both of you are hastily escorted away from the set for an “emergency interview”. 

It was a flimsy excuse, you both knew, but Nanami hadn’t exactly felt like cleaning up a crime scene today. Instead, settling for a swift escape, the director calling out after you two to “Look like you’re gonna rip the clothes off each other tomorrow.”

Rip the clothes off each other, huh?

With the way things were going, you couldn’t be surprised if you ripped him a new-

“C’mon, sweetheart~” Gojo gets out through giggles, that familiar cackle echoing in the narrow hallway leading to your trailer. “Y’know I was just having a little fun with that ol’ man.”

He saunters unhurriedly behind your brisk pace, easily blocking the way you swing the door shut in his face. Letting it shut with such infuriatingly smooth nonchalance. 

“Fun?” you scoff, jabbing an accusing finger right in the middle of his sculpted chest.“Do you even realize the mess you could’ve made?”

“Easy there, m’not insured for these pecs just yet.” Gojo clasps your hands together. Some strange little part of your skin burning at the touch in- anger? Something else? But you don’t think too hard about it, because he’s plowing on, “Besides, a little teasing never hurt anyone.”

Such a shame he was so pretty with the stupidest mouth.

“A little teasing? You practically declared to everyone in that room that we’re gonna fuck this up.” you move to pull him down by the collar instead, clearly unimpressed.

But oh you shouldn’t have done that - because he’s so close now. Too close. Hot breath fanning your face, looking so smug as he murmurs unrepentantly, “Do you?” Chuckling lightly at your little head tilt, “Do you think we’ll fuck it up?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep it all together. “...No.”

“Exactly. We’re good then.” he winks. 

“No. We’re not fucking ‘good’.” you grit out. Wondering exactly how difficult it might be to bother the director into completely recasting the male lead for the movie. Looking up at that million dollar smile and- yeah, it would be very difficult. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why they cast you.” 

“My good looks? My charisma? The way I’m the-” he trails off with a sigh at your glare. “Well, you’re not exactly a ray of sunshine, sweetheart.”

“At least I can act and-.”

He whines dramatically, cutting off your rant. “Me too!” 

This conversation was so ridiculous - but, hey, the great Gojo Satoru always did bring out the worst parts of you. 

“Nuh uh.” 

“Yuh uh.” 

“Then why are you so stiff when acting like you’re in love with me?”

Somehow, that makes Gojo shut up. Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water - gasping out a strangled little, “B-because- well-” And if you didn’t know any better you’d say that was a light blush dusting his ears.

Only for a split-second, though, because he’s grabbing you gently by your shoulders, more seriously than you’d ever seen him. “Fine. Listen, we both want the same thing right? To have pretend-sex and ace this film to win like five Oscars?”

And maybe at the heat of his newfound proximity, maybe at the way he was looking at you so goddamn intensely - you feel something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Swallowing thickly, you manage to get out, “I’ll be the one winning the Oscars...but yes.”

Gojo’s gaze roams all over you - from the quirk of your eyebrow to the dress hugging you so sinfully tight. “Then we’ll do it. Ace the scene.”

Traitorously, a shiver runs down your spine. And because the universe loves to play jokes on you, Gojo notices - of course, he does. Eyes lighting up with amusement and something you really didn’t want to decipher as you blink up questioningly, “How?”

“Method acting, silly.” he rolls his eyes, as if he wasn’t implying something that wasn’t seen in even the cheesiest of romcoms. “Think of it as running lines.”

If there was ever a moment where your life flashed behind your eyes then this just might be it. 

“You-” you gulp, so hot all over. “You better shut the fuck up and pray your face is insured because-”

At this, Gojo throws his head back and laughs - loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say about keeping his voice down so as not to let anyone outside hear, but shit you were mesmerized. Damn, a weird little part of you kind of understood why directors loved him onscreen. 

“Feisty,” he muses. “But how can I shut the fuck up when they’re second-guessing the two best actors in the game?” 

“The best? Me, maybe.” you lean in closer, mouth as bitchy as ever - even when you’re so obviously crumbling bit by bit under his gaze. And he knew that. “But not you.”

“Well, only way to find out is with tomorrow’s scene, right, sweetheart?” 

He drove you mad - everything from his heady cologne, to the way that overpriced button-up clung to him like second skin. But, don’t pull away - how could you? Not when he inches closer ever-so-slightly. Not when he lets those overpriced glasses slide down his nose, eyes locked so heavily on you.

Fighting to keep your words steady, “There’s nothing special about that scene, just fake moan in front of the camera, right? We don’t need any…‘method acting’.”

Gojo only raises a brow in amusement, lips curling into a grin that really makes you too aware of his little dimple by the corner. “Then why…” His eyes flicker down from his hands, searing on your shoulders, to yours - still grabbing his collar, just grazing the soft skin of his neck. Not pulling away. “...can’t you let go of me, sweetheart?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you, you really don’t give a fuck. The only thing running through your mind being that shit this was Gojo bane-of-your-existence Satoru, and he tasted so…sweet. Like those cheap lollipops he often snuck on-set. Strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly he’s pulling away mere millimeters. Whispering hotly, absolutely dripping with something dangerous, “Sooo, is that a ‘yes’ to running lines?”

“Ugh, shut up.” your lips ghost his. “And just fucking kiss me.”

And, well, Gojo doesn’t have to be asked twice. Because it only takes a split second for his lips to find yours again. 

Yeah, definitely strawberry lollipops.

You hadn’t filmed any of the kissing scenes just yet, but damn you didn’t expect him to be so hot and messy - like he was drunk off of you. Licking at the seam of your candied lips, groaning softly like he wanted more more more-

“Sh-shit, Goj-” 

“Call me ‘Satoru’ when we’re fucking.” he cuts you off. “Or, my bad. When we’re ‘running lines’.” 

Shameless. Though, you guess you weren’t any better - not as you press yourself closer running your hands all over his sinfully thin shirt, feeling every bump and curve of his abs. “You talk too much, Toru.” you hiss, muffled against his lips. 

Oh that cute lil’ nickname had all the blood rushing to Satoru’s cock, you were so unfair. 

“You little minx.” Like a little punishment, he’s biting down on your bottom lip, tugging lightly at your surprised squeal. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Hmm, I doubt it.”

And then your back is hitting the couch before you can react, bouncing lightly at the sheer force. And you’re so swept up in him - the way he hovers over you, arms looping around your waist, his knee wedging between your legs - that it almost hurts for you to pull away.

“Patience.” you huff out a laugh at Satoru’s disappointed whine, eyeing those pretty pink lips mere inches away from you. You just wanted them on yours. So badly. But no, there was something more important you had to do right now. “Jus’ thought we should record our little rehearsal, whaddaya think?”

“Record it?”

“Record it.”

“Record it, hmmm?” he’s whispering, more to himself than you. Fumbling with the zipper of your dress. “So you’re sayin’ we tape it, let the camera see how pretty you look all fallin’ apart f’me.” Kissing down your neck, letting the flimsy fabric fall down, “N’ then we improve for the pretend sex. Shut all those snobby directors up by giving them the best fucking sex scene they’ve ever seen.”

“Y-yes?” you mutter, as he starts tweaking your hardened nipples through your bra, clearly having way too much fun with this. “Unless-”

“Fine by me.”

The fabric hits the floor before you even realize what’s happening. Head spinning too much from the idea of being fucked on camera - by Satoru of all people, it takes you a second to realize that this bastard fucking ripped your dress off. 

“You probably broke-” 

“I’ll buy you a new one.” muffled, as he kisses down your navel, blindly fumbling with his phone. 

“It was expensive.”

With an impatient sigh, Satoru sets the camera up on the coffee table beside the couch. “Five new ones.” Angling it just right to perfectly capture you - in all your disheveled, horny glory, and Satoru, smugly seating himself between your thighs. 

“Ready?” he asks, finger hovering over that damn red button.

Well, it’s just for rehearsal, right? Right? 

“Do it.” you manage to get out, voice getting stuck in your throat at the faint ding! that rings throughout the heady room. “For my Oscars?”

“For my Oscars. N’the camera’s gonna know.”

And whatever retort on the tip of your tongue dies when he rocks his hip against yours, grinding his cock against your soaked panties. Rock-hard and so damp with precum already - so big that any and all rational thinking flies out the window.

Which is probably why you’re letting out such a pretty gasp, ‘S-Satoru, I want-“

“What?” And Satoru only flashes you a devilish grin, hands spreading your legs as far as they’d go on the couch. “This?”

He licks a long, long stripe up your inner thigh, all the way till he just meets the hem of your drenched panties. Teasing. So hot and depraved in the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart.” Satoru grunts, looking down in awe at the damp fabric, so flimsy and see-through with your sweet juices. You slick beading through so sloppily, just a hint of the state you were in. “You don’t know how you drive me mad.”

Rip! 

He’s so fucking starved that he’s just tearing your poor panties clean off. Throwing them behind him to God-knows-where before spreading your swollen folds with his thumb, showing off just how wet you were for him. 

“You’re a tease.”

“And you’re fucking addictive. Look how fuckin’ wet you are. For who, huh?” he slurs, breath hot against your cunt. Circling your entrance just barely with his fingertip, teasing you like he was addicted to those frustrated moans coming out of your pretty lips. 

“S’for you-” you whine, “All for you, Satoru.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear.”

And that’s all that needs to be said before he’s burying himself nose-deep. Drunk off your pussy as he licks long, languid movements. And it wasn’t enough - never might be, actually, because only one taste and Satoru was like a man possessed. 

Bullying his tongue between your folds, just dipping into your sloppy hole in a way that had your slick smearing all over his pretty face. Letting out such deep groans that had you clenching around his hot tongue. 

Shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut up the great Gojo Satoru then you would’ve done it a lot sooner. Because for one in his life, Satoru’s too entranced with something else to run his mouth, so fucking satisfied between your thighs. 

“Fuck- hah- think I like you better w-when hngh- you’re like this, Toru.” you purr, breath hitching as he bullies his tongue between your folds. 

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius, because that only sets him off more. 

And suddenly Satoru’s pulling your body closer onto his hot mouth, like you were weighless. Pushing himself so impossibly closer while he makes out deeper with your wet cunt. 

“Ah! Hngh- Satoru-” you keen, tugging at his soft locks. As delirious as Satoru was pussydrunk. Drinking in all your cute lil’ whines of his name, angling your hips to lick all over like he couldn’t decide between fucking your sloppy hole or toying with your poor, ravaged clit. 

“Mhm?” he murmurs, the vibrations making you squeal.  Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “Ya like this?” Stretching you out on his tongue, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over- “Like when I tonguefuck your pretty pussy?”

“Ngh- love it- s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Satoru’s tongue. 

And oh Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind being on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. “Tell the camera too, sweetheart. Practice how you’ll come around my tongue.”

Those words send a jolt up your spine - or maybe it was the way Satoru was sucking harshly on your clit. “F-fuck off.”

“Mhmmm, n’ this is why I’m the better actor..”

Ugh, this fucker. And with that you fight to turn your head - looking right in the camera. Feeling so fucking lewd as you let out such pornographic moans.

“Yeah- feel s’good.” you whimper, “Wanted this for so long, ever since I first saw- ngh- you-”

And shit were you so fucking evil - at least warn a guy! Because that has Satoru’s heart lurching, almost jumping up from between your legs before it hits him with a pang - ah, right, you were just quoting your character’s lines. Of course.

Well, two can play that game.

“Yeah?” he mutters into your folds. Two fingers plunging knuckle-deep in your pussy, massaging your plushy walls. Roaming around for that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so deliciously. “Can’t believe I waited s’fucking long. Y’know how hard it was to hold back? With you wearing all those slutty skirts f’me?”

Your body is jerking violently, both at his - practiced - words, and the way he was devouring you like you were his favorite meal. His favorite taste.

So eager and in-character with the way he was setting such a dizzying pace on your poor cunt. Slick trailing down from his fingers, all the way to his wrist. So sloppy and- Pressing down. Hard. “Found it.”

And you can only sit there and take it, such cute little whines of Satoru’s name leaving you as he leaves no mercy. Jaw grinding deeper and deeper, maddening. Aching as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over. And you were so-

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Truthfully, he didn’t even have to ask - if the way you were trembling and squeezing so fucking tightly around him was anything to go by. “Go on darling. scream my name. Show off f’the camera like you do best.”

“Sh-shit. Toru- fuck yes-” you’ve got an iron-tight grip on his hair now, pulling and angling him as you pleased for more. Barely able to let out those strained lil’ moans, definitely not with the way he’s dragging your sloppy pussy all over his face. Fingers cramping up from how rough he was going - but still not stopping. 

“Go on. Cum f’me.”

And then you are. Letting out such a teary, strangled moan of Satoru’s name as you cum all over his face. 

And it’s not just for the camera either - because this orgasm is probably the best one you’ve had in a while. So hard that you don’t even realize you’re arching and rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Using him. 

And he doesn’t stop you. Why would he? You were so pretty falling apart all because of him. He wishes he could see this more often…

“S-Satoru.” you mewl, overstimulated. Jolting with each flick of his tongue, trying to close your legs but you can’t - he won’t let you. Greedily lapping up all your sweet juices, everything that you give him. 

“Nope.” he drawls, finally pulling away, delicate strings of your slick snapping as he does. Looking so fucking drunk off of you that it makes your cunt quiver exhaustedly. “C’mon now, sweetheart, you were s’pposed to say my character’s name. S’how the scene goes.”

Oh. Shit, you got too caught up. But one look at Satoru - eyes half-lidded, hair disheveled, your juices glistening all over the bottom half of his face so prettily - tells you he was much the same. 

“Well…” you huff, voice shot. “According to the script you were supposed to stuff that-” pointedly eyeing the achingly hard cock straining his pants, “-in my mouth first before eating me out. So here we are.”

With a chuckle, he rises slowly. “Touché.” Looking you straight in the eyes - and probably into your very soul - as he pops his fingers into his mouth. One by one. Groaning at the taste of your sweet sweet juices while he sucks them clean. “But I don’t think I’d last one second with those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.”

And it almost makes you want to tease him for it - one of Hollywood’s biggest It Boys but you can’t handle a lil’ blowjob? But all of that gets stuck in your throat as Satoru starts peeling off his shirt ever-so-slowly. 

Shit, you think. All mouthwatering curves and dips, all the way from his toned, milky shoulders down, down, down to those neat tufts of white peeking out from the hem of his underwear. Sculpted like he was handcrafted so meticulously - a fucking masterpiece, you had to admit. 

One that made you wish you took a longer look at all those shirtless magazine covers instead of throwing them out. One that had your thighs squeezing in such anticipation.

And Satoru seemed to be admiring you just the same, eyes locked on your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing - so ready for him. Distinctly aware of how pathetically needy you were being in front of the blinking camera, you crane your head to glance at it. Was it really capturing-

“Now now, first rule is to never look at the camera during this scene.” Only for Satoru to squish your cheeks together, forcing you into an embarrassing little pout as he turns you back to face him. “Look at me.”

And oh you can’t not look at him. 

Especially when he tugs his pants down, just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, so fucking long and pretty. Smearing glossy precum all over his abs, flushed your favorite shade of pink, rock-hard and so so angry. Shit, he was so hard it looked like it hurt. 

“Satoru…” you breathe, legs wrapping around his slutty waist to pull him closer. Only needier despite that little nagging voice wondering how the fuck you’d take his sheer size.

“Sweetheart?”

“I remember he didn’t do a lot of waiting in the script.”

And God were you right - but Satoru doesn’t think he could’ve kept this act of restraint up any longer even if you weren’t. Too impatient, too starved, his sanity dancing away from him with each second his fat cock wasn’t stuffed inside your pretty cunt. 

“Mhm.” he purrs, one hand reaching down to drag his fat head up and down your slit. Heavy balls squeezing painfully at the way your lip wobbles in frustration. Up and down up and up and- “You’re right.”

And then it’s like something snaps.

Because it only takes a split-second for Satoru to start splitting you apart on his massive cock. Big fat tears pricking at your eyes at the feeling that he was pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“Sh-shit, s’fuckin’ tight-” he lets out a low grunt at the slight resistance, taking everything in him to not just fuck into your snug pussy and use you like his little plaything. “You gotta hah- relax, pretty girl.”

You needed to relax more - to breathe maybe, just something. You weren’t even in the right state to wonder whether that little nickname was in the script - and God was Satoru thankful for that. Because all you can think of is how you never imagined what the bane of your existence would look with his cock stuffed in your dripping cunt - but now that you’ve seen it, you think you’ll imagine it for many lonely nights to come. 

“Hey, now. Don’t get camera-shy just yet.” Satoru gives your ass a playful smack. “After all, this is only the best- part-”

Each word is punctuated with shallow, mindless little thrust to fit himself inside your dripping pussy. Such cute lil’ whines leaving your swollen lips that he really can’t help but tease you a bit. Leering down at your fucked-out face with a smirk, “Or- my bad. Forgot such a scene would be hard for a rookie.”

Oh, did he know how to press your buttons just right. 

Because immediately, you’re blinking away the delirious haze in your eyes, voice so adorably shaky - but determined - as you grit out, “Bring it on, you B-list wonder.”

That’s all that has to be said before he’s finally bottoming out inside you, mercilessly. Inch by fucking inch. You gasp as his twitching balls smack your ass so lewdly, feeling his veins beat in such a slutty lil’ thump! thump! thump! against your heavenly walls. 

“T-Toru- big- ngh- too fuckin’ big. M’gonna break mpf-” his lips claim yours. Partially because it’s been way too long since he’s kissed your pretty lips, and partially because Satoru might just cum right then and there if he let you run your mouth. 

So he lets his hips do the talking instead. 

Cooing into your mouth at each little ah! ah! ah! every time he stuffed you full of his dick, quick, experimental thrusts to try and find that one spot he knows will have you falling apart so prettily.

“Sounds so beautiful, sweetheart.” rocking his hips faster into yours. So hard you were sure he’d leave marks. “No camera in the world can pick up how fuckin’ perfect ya are. Can’t ngh- pick up those cockdrunk lil’ heart eyes.” Angling your chin just so that your sinful expression is caught on camera, “Shit do ya even know you’re doing those? Might just make me lose it for real tomorrow. Might just make me sneak you off to the dressing rooms n’-” Manicured fingers digging into your hips while he fucks you in jagged, purposeful strokes. Hitting that one spot. Hard. “Fuck you all over again.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he smugly hits that magical spot over and over- 

And it was so sloppy - so filthy with the way Satoru still had remnants of your slick all over his lips, matching the way you were soaking his cock. Fingers moving down to draw erratic little patterns on your clit, making it even messier. 

Close - too close. 

So, so desperate and debauched.

“C’mon. Show the camera. Tell the camera how much you love it.” 

“Ngh- f-fuck you.”

“Oh? Who’s fucking who now?” he’s laughing at your absolutely wrecked state. You can feel Satoru twitch inside you as you mumble out such delirious little praises to the camera - were they coherent sentences? You’ll never know, because the next words that fall from his lips have your mind reeling. 

“God, m’addicted to you, my girl.”

“That’s not- ah- in the script, Toru.” you hiss. Close. 

“I know. And neither is that.” he leaves such uncharacteristically gentle kisses down your neck. Miles away from the relentless place on your poor, abused pussy, fucking you deeper and rougher every time despite already bottoming out. “Does it have to be?”

“Th-that doesn’t ngh- make sense.” you gasp into his open mouth. 

“Doesn’t have to.”

Maybe it’s the way Satoru’s panting those words against your lips. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking right in your eyes while he says them - like it would kill him to pull away. Maybe even that fleeting little kiss he leaves against your lips. 

Because before you know it, you’re cumming and cumming so hard that you wonder whether you’d make it out alive. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and take it, thighs quivering, Satoru’s names spilling from your lips in such broken little whines while he thrusts so sloppy. Once. Twice. 

“Ah- this is gonna have me fallin’, huh?” And then he’s letting out such a low, muffled moan of your name, filling you up with rope after rope of his cum. 

What? 

It’s so messy - his cum overfilling your poor pussy, spilling out and coating his twitching balls. Shit, you can’t even worry about whether it would stain that overpriced couch below you. Not when Satoru’s whispering out sweet- lines from the script?

“Fuckin’ beautiful underneath me. Always was.” Hips still fucking into you - not even thinking at this point. “Always will be. Such a vision onscreen, sweetheart.” So thick and hot, and dribbling all the way down your legs with every movement.

And then Satoru’s lips are finding yours again, tasting so unfairly sweet while he drinks in all your cute breathless gasps. “Such a vision f’me.”

Those weren’t from the script either.

Something soft. Something scary. Something that has you looping your legs tighter around his waist, letting him collapse onto you. Pulling him closer, in fact, because now that you know the weight of his body on yours, it just felt so right.

It takes a moment of silence for you two to catch your breaths, the still rolling camera being the last thing on your minds. Neither willing to speak first, because shit Satoru might’ve gone to countless red carpets and film sets but this - you are what strips him away from all the glamor and fame. Until he was just, well, embarrassingly Satoru.

The Satoru that was now shifting shyly in your arms, trying to get up. “Uh- Hell of a way to run lines, huh? Better check the camera n’ see where to impro-”

He might be one of the biggest actors in modern Hollywood, but Satoru didn’t fool you - not one bit. So without a word, you’re tugging him back to rest against you. Heart lurching just a little bit as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Like a little hideaway - from the camera, from the world, hell, maybe even from you.

“Y’know,” he flinches ever-so-slightly at your teasing tone, giving you a playful bite. “I have one area of suggestion and it might just be that you’re too good at ‘running lines’.”

“...Good enough to win those five Oscars?”

“No.”

“Then guess I better prove it to ya, huh? Is the camera still on, sweetheart?”

Just then, some weird little part of you thinks that, hell, maybe you don’t hate Gojo Satoru after all.

Not anymore, at least. 

---

The Enemies-To-Lovers Trope of The Century?! Hollywood’s Biggest Rivals Sport Matching Hickeys (And Smiles) On-Set of Upcoming Film.

Oops! Gojo Satoru's Phone Wallpaper Accidentally Exposed: Surprise, Surprise It’s His Leading Lady! More on Page 6.

“No Comment. Though, I Have Moved Trailers. Twice.” Anonymous Manager Speaks on Latest Movie Rumors.

Director Is All Smiles As He Raves About Upcoming Romance Movie. “Hell, If I Didn’t Know Any Better I’d Say They Were Really-”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

Yep!!! We love supportive men!!!

showing off your (revealing) dress for girls night out!

ft. nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, toji, shiu

a lil suggestive on some but that's all, mostly just them being head over heels for u

My heart can't take it.

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

Daddy issues playing rn

Pliant

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: Every now and then, Tony needs you to help clear his head while he’s working.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT. TW: Somnophilia (consensual).

WC: 1.5K

A/N: Well, howdy. Here's a kinky treat for kinktober. Heed the warnings, please!!

MASTERLIST

Like a messy notebook with notes scribbled in the margins, sometimes Tony’s head got a bit crowded.

It was a rare occurrence - usually he was good at keeping track of his thoughts, or leaning on the assistance of his AI to catalogue his quick-fire ideas as they tumbled out of his mouth. Yet, on those particularly manic nights, when he was under a time crunch or running on a ridiculously unhealthy amount of sleep, things got lost. His ideas got snowed in beneath new ones.

He glanced at the time in the corner of his monitor. It was late - after midnight. He’d been holed up in the lab for over twenty-four hours, only taking a swift break in the afternoon to shower and eat (at your firm insistence). But he’d been rooted in the same problem for over an hour now and at this rate, he’d be backtracking through his voice logs with JARVIS to identify what it was that he’d been thinking but hadn’t said out loud and-

Well. There was a much more simple, quicker solution than that. Something that was a sure-fire way to clear the cobwebs in his brain.

“J, is she awake?” He asked, tapping out a staccato rhythm on his thighs.

The AI didn’t respond for a moment or two, and Tony sweared to fuck that the asshole was judging him. “No, she is currently in bed. Her heart rate indicates that she is asleep.”

He pulled up the camera surveillance of your shared bedroom. You’d left the lamp on. The sheets obscured most of your body, save for your upper back where he could see your bare shoulders. His lips pursed while he considered his options. There was something that you’d mentioned recently - something that had played on his mind that he was definitely intrigued by.

“You know…” You worried at your lower lip, shy eyes focused on where your fingers were working at loosening his tie. “You’re always coming to bed so late at night. And- well… I think that it’d be really fucking sexy if you got me worked up in my sleep..?” Your voice trailed up in the form of a question, unsure of what his response would be. “Just - I don’t know - the thought of waking up with your fingers, or shit, your cock inside of me… and knowing that you’d been playing with me while I was asleep…” You sighed dreamily, gaze flicking up to his own briefly before darting away again. “The thought kind of turns me inside out.”

He watched your sleeping form, his cock twitching at the thought of going up there and- He pushed himself out of his chair and started for the bedroom.

He took his shoes off before he ascended the stairs, his steps near-silent as he entered the bedroom, and quietly closed the door behind himself. His heart was racing. Despite the fact that you’d told him this was something you wanted, he couldn’t help but feel sneaky. Like he was breaking the rules. He crouched down at your side of the bed and carefully peeled the sheets off your body, biting down onto his tongue as your bare ass came into view. The way your leg was hitched up meant that your slit was right there for him to touch. He ran a warm hand over your even warmer hip, feeling your silky skin beneath his calloused fingertips. God, you were so fucking sexy. He’d never get enough of you - he was sure of that.

He sucked two fingers into his mouth, coating them with his spit before gently - so fucking gently - running a fingertip up your slit. He expected you to snap awake at any moment. He wanted to make this good for you; play things out the way that you’d described to him. He continued to carefully run his fingers up and down your slit, his pressure turning a bit more firm when you didn’t stir from your slumber. He could see the way your body naturally reacted to his touch, your sticky slick seeping out and making the glide of his fingers smoother, easier.

He had to bite down onto the knuckle of his free hand when he pressed a finger inside of you. Jesus Christ, you were so hot and silky. Each brush of his fingers, every quiet, wet sound, was seemingly amplified in the otherwise silent room. He slowly fucked you with one finger, palming at himself through his jeans when your body produced more and more slick, until pressing a second finger inside was an almost effortless squeeze.

“Mmm…”

He froze at the quiet sound, fingers buried inside of you to the hilt and eyes flicking up to your face.

You were still asleep: expression lax, lips slightly parted. “You dreaming about me baby?” He whispered, curling his fingers and huffing quietly at the way your hips lazily rolled into the feeling. “Fucking hell…”

He withdrew his fingers and spread wetness to your clit, lightly circling the bud as he palmed at his now rock-hard cock through his pants. Your breaths were turning a little bit heavier. He knew that you’d wake up soon.

He pulled his hand away and stood to strip himself of his clothes, wrapping a hand around his cock and biting down into his lip to contain his moan of satisfaction. Then, carefully rolling your body to provide himself with access, he ran the head of his dick along your dripping cunt. His eyes stayed on your face, waiting for a reaction that never came.

Slowly, oh, so fucking slowly, he guided himself into of you, eyes rolling back as you enveloped him inch by wet-warm inch.

“Oh. Ohhh…” Your moan was more present. He watched your eyes flutter open, the realisation dawning on your face before you let out the sweetest, neediest whine and hitched your leg higher up on the bed. “Oh my fucking- Tony yes.”

“Well hi, sleeping beauty,” he rasped, his voice gravelly and overwhelmed as he grinded in deep, “Nice of you to join me.”

He began to fuck you with slow, steady thrusts, allowing your mind to process the feeling. But fuck, you were so pliant - so relaxed, having just woken up - that the glide of his cock was so smooth it sent tingles up his spine. The needy sound you let out made his hips snap forward with a bit more force than he’d intended. “You love the thought of me using this pretty pussy whenever I want, don’t you?” He growled, picking up his pace. “Should’ve seen how quick you were to get worked up on my fingers. How easy it was for me to get you wet.”

You looked over your shoulder at him with pleading eyes, your brow creased with an overwhelmed frown, and the sight nearly did him in. He groaned and withdrew his cock, roughly taking hold of your leg and rolling you onto your back. He tugged your body so that you were laid out on the edge of the mattress before sliding back inside of you, the change in angle making you cry out. Each rock forward made your tits bounce, your hands moving to the bedsheets where you held on tight.

“I’m gonna come,” you whined, your neck strained with the tension of your building release. He reached down to roll your clit beneath the pad of his thumb, the slippery touch clumsy because of how fucking soaked you were. Jesus Christ. You were a fucking dream.

“That’s it,” he grunted, his thighs hitting your skin with resounding smacks, “Come for me. Show me how much you love being my little fuck toy.” His voice was strained as he fought to hold back his own release, deep and gravelly at how wonderfully wrecked you looked.

You shouted as you peaked, your body curling in on itself and clenching down at the force of the feeling. You squeezed so tight and perfect around his cock that it ripped his orgasm from him, milked his cock until his mind was blank of everything but pure pleasure.

And with that clarity of mind - that perfect silence - came the revelation he’d be chasing.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, jerking his hips forward as though punctuating the dual physical and mental relief. “Jesus, baby. You’re perfect. Such a perfect little toy.”

You reached out for him, your eyes dazed and needy, and he went to you without hesitation. He sighed out through his nose as he kissed you - licked into your mouth greedily and possessively. He felt your fingers card back through his hair, the feeling sparking against the aftershocks that prickled down his spine.

“You gonna come to bed?” You breathed, your voice warm puffs against his lips.

He looked down at your soft eyes, rolled his hips once more just to feel you squeeze around his sensitive cock. He hadn’t been planning to go to sleep. Rather, he’d just figured out how to jump the hurdle that was keeping him from completing his work in the lab. But- you had the sweetest look in your eyes. Your hands were toasty against the sides of his neck. And god, how could he say ‘no’ to you?

“Yeah, baby,” he hummed, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. Work could wait until the morning.

TAGS: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @boop-le-snoot @slothspaghettiwrites @littlegasps @agustdowney @suchababie @elemephstudies @rdjesus4ever @slut4tonystark @slytherintothedeep @rogerslaufeysonn @mr-tony-stark @tonystarkscumslutz @thran-duils @toekneestark @honestlytootiredforthis @pastelasagna

after mission break

hehe what a sensitive boy <3

For the love of my life, Nines:

28. “each of my thoughts about you are improper”

59. “are you sure? once i start i don’t think i’m able to stop”

I just know you’ll cook up something hot with these 😌💅

@dattebae Here you go, lovely! I love that two of my Nines prompts chose number 28. Clearly we're all on the same page where this boy is concerned!

Nines x AFAB reader. Rated M.

The RK900 was the most…androidish android you’d ever seen. If Connor hadn’t informed you of the fact, you would never have guessed that the grey eyed model was a deviant. It took until the fifth time you spoke to him for you to learn he had a name.

You worked on the reception desk at the DPD, so you knew all the officers well. Connor had endeared himself to you very quickly by always stopping to say hello. You thought he was cute, but your co-worker got there first. Since they made a pretty adorable couple, you didn’t begrudge that. It had mostly been a harmless observation on your part anyway. Nines, however, was a different story.

The RK900 had been discovered in the CyberLife Tower, was deviated by Markus, and had come to work at the DPD with Connor. He was an upgrade to the RK800, although the team valued both androids as individuals, of course. Nines was undeniably impressive with his skillset, but Connor had the edge on people skills, most of which came down to his experience. He’d been alive longer, been a deviant longer.

Nines did not bother to say hello every morning, and had actually not even acknowledged your presence until he walked in with Connor one day. After witnessing Connor stopping for a brief chat with you and your colleagues, he made more of an effort to be…pleasant. That was probably the kindest word you could use.

Small talk didn’t come easily to him. At least, not naturally. You’d seen him fake it for a witness once, no doubt letting his social relations program step in for him. The change was remarkable. He’d been warm and friendly, chatting about the latest Gears game, handsome face wearing an easy smile. You’d almost gawped at him from behind the desk before remembering that that wouldn’t be very professional.

At first you’d been indignant, wondering why he didn’t put that effort in for you, but then it had occurred to you that it was all false. The way Nines acted with you and your colleagues was real. It might not be as warm as you would like, but it was genuine, and there was something to be said for that.

There was something so intriguing and mysterious about the RK900, you couldn’t help feeling drawn to him. You knew it was unrequited. He made that perfectly clear with his stoic face and cold eyes, striking an odd balance between making the effort to talk to you while giving the impression that he probably didn’t care about the answers. You knew nothing about him, other than the basic facts, yet you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

There were plenty of people who had crushes on Connor, but from what you could see, you were the only one who thought about Nines. People admitted that he was hot, but were put off by his personality. Or lack thereof. According to the gossip you overheard, a man who appeared to be that stoic was likely to be cold in the bedroom. When you observed Nines’ uncaring nature, his focus solely on his job, you couldn’t help but see where they were coming from. Still, you kept thinking about him, kept seeing his face when you closed your eyes at night.

For a time, you just let your mind wander where it wanted to. It was a fun distraction, and you enjoyed the eye candy. After almost two months with no let-up, you were starting to feel a little concerned. Was this more serious than you’d thought? In which case, what were you supposed to do moving forward? At the start, his lack of interest didn’t bother you, but now…if your own interest ran deeper than you realised, you were fucked.

The smart thing to do would be to confide in Connor, who seemed to be Nines’ only friend, but you couldn’t. You’d never been the kind of person who could openly discuss your crushes, not even celebrity ones. It just felt too personal. As Nines’ friend, Connor would be able to tell you if your feelings had even the slightest chance of being returned, but even the knowledge that he’d be able to put your mind at ease couldn’t make you break your silence. It was better to just assume you were on your own and deal with it.

And then someone brought a gun into the DPD.

It was a minor incident, all things considered, over in less than a minute thanks to Nines, but it shook you. There was a reason why you were a receptionist and not an officer. You didn’t handle dangerous situations well, you tended to freeze and forget every single part of your security training.

The man, a desperate Red Ice addict who didn’t want to be arrested, had attempted to start a hostage situation in reception, but Nines had gotten there first, taking a bullet to the shoulder like it was nothing before snatching the gun out of the man’s hands. He’d tossed the gun aside, had the man on the floor and handcuffed before you could blink, but all you could think was that he’d been shot.

He swept his grey eyes around reception, assessing the situation, the state of the people there, in a glance. His gaze seemed to settle on you a beat longer than everyone else, unless you were projecting, and you wondered why. Then Connor was there, insisting on patching up Nines’ gunshot wound before leading him away.

You worked out the rest of your shift with wide eyes, feeling your heartrate decrease slowly, worried when you didn’t see either android again. When you left the desk to go to the bathroom, you saw them both doing paperwork. Nines didn’t seem any worse for wear, other than the gaping hole in his clothing, tinged with blue.

Your gaze met his on your way back, and you debated going over to ask if he truly was okay, but then his LED spun and he began to talk, taking a phone call. You continued walking, a little disappointed, but glad to see that he seemed to be fine.

Your shift ended promptly at 6pm, and you headed to the break room to wash up your coffee mug before you had to get the bus home. Connor unexpectedly stepped into your path when you were done, and you smiled at him.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Fine, but I was wondering if you could do me a favour.”

You glanced at him in surprise, but nodded. “Sure. What is it?”

“I need to head out to follow a lead, could you take this folder to the archive for me?”

He held up a neatly-labelled manila folder, and you reached out a hand for it. You had a little while before your bus came.

“No problem.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded. “See you tomorrow, Connor.”

He headed for the door, and you diverted to the elevator down to the archive. It wasn’t the first time you’d run small errands for the officers. You knew how busy they were, so as long as they didn’t take advantage of your good nature, you didn’t mind helping out with small things. You were surprised to find Nines there too.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Good evening,” he replied. “What are you doing down here? Your shift is over.”

“Connor asked me to put this away,” you explained, holding up the folder.

He tilted his head a fraction. “Interesting.”

“It is?” you said, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“Yes. Because he asked me to put this away.” He showed you a folder of his own.

Heat flooded your face as you realised the two of you had been set up, and you wondered what Connor could possibly hope to achieve.

“Oh,” you said.

“Yes.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen Nines look awkward. It was…interesting.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, then you gestured with your folder.

“I’ll just…”

You walked past him, shoulders hunched in the universal sign for ‘sorry I’m in your way even though I’m not really’, and found the correct file cabinet. By the sounds of it, Nines was doing the same.

Job done, you headed back to the elevator. You pressed the button for the main floor, surprised when Nines entered with you. You’d just assumed he’d take the stairs, since you were only using the elevator because it had been a long, tiring day.

His tall, looming presence made the boxy space feel even smaller, and you bit your lip, wondering if you should attempt small talk.

The elevator came to a juddering halt, and you yelped as you were plunged into darkness before the emergency lights came on, bathing you both in eerie red.

“What the…?”

“Stay calm,” Nines instructed, although you weren’t panicked, just surprised. “I’m calling for help.”

You watched as he communicated silently with someone, his LED blinking. He looked even more intimidating in shades of scarlet, the lights casting deep shadows on the planes of his face. Not that you felt intimidated exactly; it was just something you observed.

You waited as patiently as you could, eyeing the now-blank display above the doors. When Nines finally moved, you glanced at him, taking in the disgruntled expression on his face.

“What’s going on?”

“The power’s out,” he informed you. “I could only get through to Connor, he’s on his way back. He said he’ll update me as to what’s happening, but for now we just have to wait.”

You sighed, suddenly feeling a conflicting mixture of tired and tense. You should have just taken the damn stairs! Now it could be hours before you were able to get home. At least you weren’t claustrophobic, although the sensation of being trapped was making you a little uneasy. Being trapped specifically with Nines – your secret crush – was only adding to your unease. You felt too awkward to handle it well, you were bound to say something stupid, highlight exactly why androids were superior to humans.

The elevator felt stuffy, although whether that was just in your head or an effect of the air con now being off, you weren’t sure. You sat down on the floor, back against a wall, and Nines looked down at you for a moment before mirroring your pose on the opposite side. He didn’t need to sit, so he was clearly just doing it to make you feel more comfortable. That was a nice gesture.

The first half hour dragged. You sat in silence, unsure what to say, and Nines didn’t venture anything either. He had to be impatient, possibly more so than you, but you couldn’t tell looking at him. His expression was placid, grey eyes strangely pale in the red light. He sat with his feet flat on the floor, knees bent, arms resting on them in a pose that was oddly casual for him. You assumed he was mimicking humans he’d seen.

You tried hard not to stare at him, but since he was the only interesting thing in the elevator, you didn’t succeed much. Your gaze kept creeping to him, only for you to guiltily snatch it back. A few times, you switched position, partly because the floor wasn’t the best seat in the world, partly to busy yourself for a few seconds. When the room got warm without the air con, you started to unbutton your shirt, thankful you had a tank top underneath.

Nines watched you, and you tried not to fidget under the heavy weight of his stare.

“It’s hot,” you mumbled by way of explanation.

He didn’t respond, most likely not considering it necessary.

A few awkward moments slipped by, and you dropped the shirt next to you, glad to feel some air on your bare arms.

“Why do I make you uncomfortable?” Nines spoke up out of the blue.

You frowned at him in surprise. “You don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I…” You trailed off, your protest dying on your tongue. You’d been about to say that you weren’t lying, which would have been another lie, but that was so much easier to say than the truth.

“Well, it’s because I have a gigantic crush on you, but until recently, you barely knew who I was, much less cared, and I wish I could just stop, but every time I see you I just want to climb you like a tree, and so being stuck in a small room with you is putting me on edge.”

Yeah, no. Best leave that unsaid.

“You realise I was built to be intimidating,” he added. “It’s not something I can help.”

“No, I know,” you answered, picking at a thread on your pants. “And you’re not. At least, I don’t find you intimidating. It’s…um…I just…I’m just really tired. I was looking forward to getting home.”

“What did I say about lying?” he snapped, tone accusing.

“I’m not lying, I really don’t see you that way!” you protested.

“Your reactions indicate otherwise,” he argued. “When I’m near you, you become restless, agitated. Your pupils dilate, your breathing rate increases. All signs of fear.”

And arousal, you added silently, trying not to panic as your reactions were picked apart. Did he really not realise what was happening? He was the most advanced android ever created, which meant that he must know what else those signs could mean. Could it be that he just didn’t consider it a possibility?

Your heart twisted at the implications of that. He clearly took on the weight of his daunting presence and the ways it could affect his day-to-day life, but did that mean he thought that everyone was afraid of him? Did it mean that he didn’t believe that someone could be attracted to him?

A sudden stray thought struck you, making your eyes widen. Was he, perhaps…lonely?

That was a lot to unpack, and your need to keep your feelings to yourself was suddenly warring with your need to reassure him.

“Nines, I…” you began, unsure where you were going with it. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He looked unconvinced, and you rushed to continue.

“Actually, I…I like you.”

His eyes were steady on you, boring through you, trying to get to the heart and truth of you. You swallowed and looked away, scrambling awkwardly to your feet as you gave in to your sudden need to move. As soon as he did the same, you regretted the decision, since he was taller than you. Sitting had equalled things between you to an extent. Now that he was looming over you once again, you struggled to find your words.

“I…I know you don’t feel the same,” you said, holding up a hand as you assured him that you had no expectations. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I just…I just want you know that not all of us find you scary, okay? And if you need to talk to someone, I’m here. I want to be your friend. I…don’t even know if that’s something you need or even want, but the offer stands. Just…just remember that.”

He stared at you for long seconds, face blank. That wasn’t unusual for him, but you wished he’d show at least something of what he was thinking.

“I can’t be your friend,” he said eventually.

Your heart sank, and you bit your lip as anxiety washed through you.

“Okay,” you said, doing your best to react the right way and not let the disappointment seep in. You should have known better than to expect an android of his advanced skills to need a human like you.

“Don’t you want to know why?” he asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t think there’s any point in–”

“It’s because each of my thoughts about you are improper,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence.

You froze, wide-eyed, trying to figure out exactly what he was saying. Your Nines translation meter must be slightly off, because it just wasn’t making sense.

“I can’t be your friend,” he went on. “It wouldn’t be right. I’d always want more, and I will not put you in a position where I demand more than you want to give.”

You were hearing his words, spoken in English, a language you definitely did understand, but their meaning just didn’t register. They were so at odds with his stoic expression.

“Wh…what?” you stuttered.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You winced at the harsh words, but then realised that they were a touch defensive. Nines was feeling vulnerable. Because of you. How was that even possible?

“You…like me?” you ventured cautiously. “As…more than a friend?”

“I believe that’s what I just said, yes.”

“But you…why didn’t you…? Why didn’t you say something?” You gasped, remembering that you knew exactly why. “Shit, you really did think I was afraid of you, didn’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” he threw out.

“No! No, you… Fuck! For a man with a fucking supercomputer for a brain, you’re so dense!” you said between near-hysterical giggles.

He tilted his head, looking a little affronted, and you laughed harder.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Do you have any idea how long I’ve pined for you? Nines… I wasn’t afraid of you. I was attracted to you.”

His eyes widened a touch, and his LED whirred. “That…” he said after a moment’s thought, the words carefully considered, “…would make sense.”

You stifled another laugh. You didn’t want him to think you were laughing at him, it was just the whole bizarre situation in general.

“So now what?” you asked.

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, crowding you against the wall with very little effort.

In a deceptively soft tone that sent shivers through your body, he said, “I believe a kiss would be appropriate. If you consent to that."

You swallowed hard, nodding, your gaze inevitably pulled to his mouth. He bent his head, you lifted your chin to meet him, and your lips met.

You’d imagined it dozens of times, but you had no idea what to actually expect. In light of your most recent conversation, you wondered if you were his first kiss, but if you were, you couldn’t tell. He knew what he was doing, his lips cool and pliant against yours, his tongue licking into your mouth with exploratory precision. A soft groan rumbled low in his throat, and you shivered. You’d suddenly thought of a much better way of passing the time.

You pulled back from the kiss, breathing hard, your eyes locked with his.

“Can I…?” you began.

“Anything,” he said.

You pushed him back half a step, then sank to your knees. You were starting to recognise micro-expressions in his stoic look, and you caught the brief flicker of surprise, and then the desire that followed it. Had you just been blind, or was he just giving you a chance to read him finally? Either way, it was gratifying to see.

You undid his belt and the fastenings on his dark jeans, taken aback to find yourself staring at pale skin rather than the underwear you’d expected.

“Shit. Have you been commando all this time?” you blurted out.

“What do I need underwear for?” he said validly.

“That’s hot,” you murmured, easing him out of his jeans.

Nines sighed as you touched him, stiffening and growing in your hand exactly as a human would. You gave him a few slow pumps, gauging the size and weight of him, feeling the softness of his skin, the surprising warmth beneath it. He had no scent that you could detect, and you playfully licked at the tip, grinning when he jerked and moaned above you. You took that sensitive part of him in your mouth, sucking gently, massaging the rest with your hands.

He moaned again, hips twitching in a very human-like way, plainly indicating what he wanted. You sucked a little harder, then ran the flat of your tongue across the underside before pulling back. You didn’t miss the way he leaned forward, chasing your mouth, and you felt your clit throb.

“Fuck my mouth,” you said, sitting back on your heels to look up at him.

He’d braced one arm against the wall, his rebellious lock of hair falling forward as he cast a shadow over you. His lips were parted as he drew air into his systems, and his eyes were heavy-lidded. And you’d barely started.

“Are you sure?” he asked you. “Once I start I don’t think I’m able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” you said simply.

His eyes took on a look of determination, and you felt a thrill of adrenaline. His free hand slid into your hair and held your head still, and you felt yourself grow wetter.

“Open for me,” he ordered, and you almost whimpered at how many different ways you could take that.

You obligingly opened your mouth, and he slid back in, plunging deeper than you’d allowed before. You relaxed your jaw, taking as much of him as you could, already knowing that he’d have to make do with the limitations. It was fortunate that you were pretty good at controlling your gag reflex, since you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat.

He started to thrust, and you immediately picked up on both his desperation and his control over it. It told you that he wasn’t going to hurt you, even accidentally, and you relaxed even further. You let him do what he wanted for the first few minutes, then let your hands and tongue come into play, teasing and caressing where you could until he was panting hard above you.

“Fuck!” he grunted, and you inwardly grinned. You’d never seen him so animated, so unguarded, and you had a feeling you could easily become addicted to it.

You hollowed your cheeks and sucked, needing to hear him come apart. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling, but it was a dull pain. You liked knowing what you did to him.

“I’m…I’m going to…” he said, sounding thoroughly wrecked. You’d never heard him sound anything but calm and collected. The fact that he was tripping over his words now excited you. “Can I…?”

You freed a hand to curl your fingers into the ‘okay’ symbol, letting him know it was alright. It was more than alright.

With a harsh cry and a jolt, he came. Your throat was coated with synthetic cum, and you swallowed it, surprised by its heady, bittersweet flavour. Something familiar that you couldn’t immediately identify in your distracted horny state. Then it hit you: dark chocolate. He fucking tasted like dark chocolate.

You had so many questions for CyberLife.

You let him slip from your mouth, wiping the drool from your chin before he could see how undignified you were. Then, since he seemed to be dazed, you helpfully tucked him away and zipped his jeans, buckling his belt in place. It was only as you struggled to stand up on stiff legs that he snapped out of it, gripping your upper arms and helping you up. He pressed you against the wall, mouth on yours in a fierce kiss. You wondered if he could taste himself.

You intended to ask him how it had been for him, but you didn’t get the chance. No sooner had you broken apart, when he sent you a predatory look that rendered you speechless, and said firmly, “My turn.”

He got to his knees, hands working on your bottom layers before you had a moment to catch your breath. He looked up at you when he saw how damp your underwear was, and you shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“I told you,” you muttered defensively.

He actually laughed, just a brief chuckle, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it.

Your smile turned to a gasp as he explored your wet folds with his fingers, parting them before bringing his tongue into the mix. You had no idea if this was new to him too, but he knew exactly what he was doing. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them expertly and brushing against your G-spot, making you moan his name.

“Fuck, Nines!”

Your hands found his hair, fingers drifting through the silky strands. Making him come had turned you on so much, you didn’t think you were going to last long. Not if he kept being as dextrous with his tongue as he was with his fingers.

Oh god, his tongue. You were going to have recurring dreams about his tongue, you could already tell.

“I need you,” you whimpered. “I need you, I need you.”

It had mostly been an outpouring of feeling for you, but Nines seemed affected by it too, his LED spinning yellow. His fingers pumped faster and harder, and he closed his mouth around you, sucking on your clit, playing with it with his tongue.

“Oh fuck!”

He kept you at such a constant level of pleasure, your orgasm took you by surprise. You cried out as you came, bucking against his face as he worked you through it. He drew it out exquisitely, leaving you convulsing against the wall for what felt like an eternity, his tongue lazily sweeping over and over your sensitive flesh until you had to beg him to stop.

When he stood, cupping the lower half of his face to wipe the excess slick away, you watched him with dazed eyes, and as you’d done for him, he helped you redress. You had so many things you wanted to talk to him about, about how he thought of himself, about why he hadn’t believed that you cared, but you weren’t sure how to begin.

“Connor saw it,” Nines said, seeming to sense the topic you were stuck on. “What was between us.”

You nodded. “That’s why he sent us to the archive. He must have hoped we’d talk if we…” You trailed off, eyes widening. “Oh shit! Did he trap us in here?”

Nines frowned, his LED immediately flickering yellow.

“It was him,” he confirmed after a short, silent conversation. “I told him to get us moving again.”

“That sneaky little bastard!” you exclaimed, although you were too blissed out to be angry. Besides, his stupid plan had worked.

“He saw that you cared for me,” Nines surmised. “And he saw that I was fascinated by you. When that gunman was in reception today, I…I was struck with the possibility of you being hurt, and it was…difficult to deal with. I think Connor must have seen my struggles.”

“I didn’t like seeing you hurt either. You were shot.”

“I was repaired,” he assured you. “I had to act quickly, to protect you.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond to such a declaration. You squinted as the lights came back on, the elevator jolting into movement once again, and you shelved it all for later.

“Want to come home with me?” you asked. You needed to feel him inside you, but not in a crappy DPD elevator.

Nines managed a small smile and nodded. “On one condition. When Connor meets us outside the elevator doors, where he’ll inevitably be, we pretend that nothing happened.”

Your lips curved into a sly grin. “Deal.”

One day soon, you’d let Connor know his efforts hadn’t been in vain, but in the meantime, you’d punish him for trapping you.

It felt good, having Nines as a co-conspirator, and it took a lot of effort for you to walk out of the elevator like nothing had changed. It was harder still not to laugh at Connor’s annoyed expression. Much later, after Nines had almost fucked you into a coma, you reflected that maybe you forgave Connor just a little bit.

I genuinely miss toji and he's not even real

Toji coming home late from a job, exhausted and knowing he messed up with you, again. All he wants is to be comforted by your warm body and to hear you talk his ear off before going to bed together, but instead he finds you fast asleep on the couch. He watches your curled up frame for a minute or two, feeling the achey heaviness of guilt in his chest. He promised you a movie, but things at work didn't go as smoothly as they normally do, and because of it, he's home later than he thought he would be. He doesn't blame you at all for losing your patience and succumbing to your tiredness, rather than fighting it, for his sake.

He smiles softly, admiring the bliss in your features, before quietly heading off to the bedroom to grab some clothes so he can tidy up before he even thinks about touching you.

Toji sees your shower products next to his, and though he doesn't plan on putting them on, like he has before in a state of longing for you, he does pick them up to take a whiff. The smells are as sweet and comforting as you. They help him wind down a little more after the day he's had. Your shampoo and body wash managed to distract him a bit. He stood there frozen, thinking of you as water cascaded down his body, until he remembered that you're in the house, sleeping on the couch, still waiting to see him. He expedites his shower, quickly gets dressed, and hurries up with his hygiene routine so he can get back to you.

When Toji returns, you're in a new position. Your limbs are all sprawled out. He watches you for another minute or so. You are the image of pure comfort on that old couch. Just being next to you could pass on the effect to him, but you're so enticing, and he really wants to be in that bubble of serenity with you. Before his proper judgement convinces him to carry you to bed, he's crawling between your legs, his eyes on yours the entire time, to make sure he doesn't wake you before he even starts adding his weight onto you.

Your sleep ridden eyes feel heavy as you peer them open and look at the man nuzzling himself into you. You hear the smallest little groans, almost like purring, as Toji continues to try and mold his body into yours. He knows he doesn't fit with you on this tiny couch, but you're so warm, and you smell like the body wash he inhaled in the shower. He's going to make it work.

"Hey, Toji," you mumble, dazedly, still half asleep. He almost melts at the feeling of your fingers running through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp with every passing. Your other arm comes up to rest on his back. He then realizes he's not close enough. Being right on top of you, with his head on your chest... Not close enough.

"What?" You laugh when Toji starts shifting again, those soft hums returning as he presses himself into you even more. He wants to be greedy and take all the comfort you can possibly give him. "Did you..." you giggle when he settles, his face buried in your neck. "Did you miss me?"

"Miss" is an understatement. Toji was ready to come home and cozy up in bed with you. He was ready to distract you from whatever movie you decided on, with kisses. He was ready for things to evolve into something more. He thought about this all day, and he's home now, and it's not at all what he thought it would be. The sad part is, you're not even mentioning these ruined plans. You're not upset with him for being home so late, you're not giving him the cold shoulder. You're the same loving girl he discussed these plans with in the morning and it makes him feel like a total asshole.

"Mhm. Are you comfortable sleeping like this? I can't move."

"Yes, Toji," you respond, immediately, though you know he's exaggerating. The question lures a soft laugh out of you. "You're acting like this is the first time you've ever plopped yourself down on me."

"Just making sure, doll, 'cause I don't wanna move," he says, with total honesty this time.

"You don't have to. You're the warmest blanket in this house. I scored by getting crushed."

"Yeah? I'm flattered." You can hear the smirk in his voice so clearly.

"And i'm flattened."

Silence. Crickets in the background. Everything is so still, you could hear a pin drop, and to make matters worse, you laughed at your own joke.

"I should go back to sleep," you say, knowing that when your nonsensical thoughts start spilling out, it's time to get some rest.

Toji's grin has yet to straighten out. He can tell you're still tired. He laughs, a sharp breath through his nose, at your ridiculousness. "Silly girl. Are you cold?"

"Impossible. I have a bear on top of me."

"Want me to go get the blanket? Wanna go to the room?"

"Stooooop, i'm fine." You kiss to the top of his head. "Goodnight, Toji."

"Can you do that thing you always do?"

Without a word, your hand goes to the back of his head, and your fingers begin coursing through his hair, again, your nails dragging gently along his scalp, like before.

Toji sighs, contented and entirely at ease. "'night, doll."

OTOYA IS SUCH A COMEDIAN.

oh the shading is doing things to me