YANA

the first thing you notice as you wake up is that you're not alone on the couch, the second thing is the arms wrapped around you holding you tight to a built chest, and lastly that leon, your husband who for the first time in his life refused to promise to come home to you, is finally back in your arms, warm and alive.

interlacing your fingers with the hand on your hip you bring it up to your lips gently, but you can't help the gasp when you see that the skin is completely clear, no longer marred by infection.

the gasp jolts him awake, eyes open and locked to yours within a second, but when he doesn't see any tension in your face, just amazement. it has him relaxing and taking a moment just to stare. he couldn't believe he almost missed this, almost didn't survive to hold his husband in his arms once again, so he can't help but stare at you, trying to sear the image of you into his mind.

fuck, he was a goddamn idiot, leon thought before breaking the short staring contest between you two by tilting his face up, lips meeting yours gently at first, but quickly turning desperate.

needing to feel the softness of your lips, the safety he feels with you, it makes him pour out all the conflicting emotions he has into the softness of your lips. how greatful he is that he gets to be with you again, how relieved he is to have you safe in his arms once more, something he never believed he would get again, that he didn't deserve to have, he thinks as his unoccupied hand comes up to cup your face.

you unfortunately have to pull away from each other to take in gasping breaths,, but as soon as his lips leave yours he's leaving a trail open kisses across your jaw and neck, breaths fanning across your skin. "fuck. sweetheart, i was wrong, i was so wrong" he mumbles into your collarbone with regret clear in his voice. his hands both move to your hips to pull you to straddle him as he lays flat.

his desperate kisses on your neck and shoulder start trailing even lower as you sit up fully on his lap and ask in a teasing tone despite your tears, unable to contain the joy spilling out of you "what were you wrong about this time darling?" you yelp as he playfully pinches your hip in retaliation turns to a chuckle while continuing to lavish his attention on your neck, able to feel the vibrations of it.

“well i was certainly wrong to leave you at home like this. what was i thinking when i've got a personal weighted blanket, it's even heated.” he smirks into your skin.

despite the teasing he remembers what he needs to tell you and sobers up, clearing his thoughts as he pulls back to look deeply into your eyes. pinning you in place with the intensity in the piercing blue gray as he tells you truthfully, "i'm sorry i didn't value my life as much as you do" one hand trailing up over your spine slowly with a featherlight touch, moving up to cup the back of your neck.

“and i'm sorry it took so long for me to realize that fact, that you're right, there's more to life, than.. than this shit, the atonement turned martyrdom. the people i couldn't save deserve someone to live and keep their memory alive even if it's only me" he tells you as his hand grips onto your neck, not pushing, just holding on like he's drowning and you're the last life float.

he's unwilling to hide from you after surviving raccoon city syndrome, something he thought was going to steal this life from him, the life you built together, the lives of the people he loves, his own life. thought it would rip everything away from him, destroying any semblance of peace he has, consuming everything and everyone in its path in the same way raccoon city has done for years.

but after meeting grace, he refuses to allow it to continue to let the fire keep consuming. he won't allow it rob him of everything he cares about, to continue to control how he feels about his own life. not this time.

“oh leon..” you choke out with a tight throat and tears welling in your eyes, “my love.. you've done so much more than honor their deaths and keep their memories alive.” your hands coming up to grip his face so he finally understands. “you have done your best to give them justice, respect, even in death. they would be so proud of you.”

you're both crying at this point, but you're not done talking yet, thumbing at the tears rolling down his cheeks as you continue, “i’m proud of you, for finally valuing yourself as much as you value others, for valuing your scars, your successes, your pain, as much as i do” you're honored at his vulnerability with you, it's something that you had vowed to never take for granted long before your marriage to the man.

laughing wetly through your tears you ask, "so who finally convinced you i was right all along huh? i need to thank them personally.” making him huff out a laugh to match, “oh you don't think i could've figured it out on my own, huh?” he jokes back with a croak in his voice.

he nuzzles into your hands on your face, rough stubble rubbing against your hands as he closes his eyes for a second, before the hand on your nape moves to gently brush aside your hands from his face. leaning up he brings you in for such a gentle, soft kiss that it has you melting back into his chest.

"the girl i mentioned before, her name's grace. she.. she showed me exactly how wrong i was. it's not that i didn't trust in you, i swear that to you. it's just that- it's one thing to know something, to change your beliefs on a psychological level, and it's another to see it, to see someone prove, without a shadow of a doubt. that what i was taught was wrong, that i was wrong." he tells you in a devastating tone, pain and frustration clear.

your tears start back up at his words and you lean in to press your forehead against his, eyes locked, sharing each others breaths you tell him, "well, i certainly need to thank her for that don't i..."

you trail off with a hum before bringing one hand up to card through his hair, "im so thankful that despite everything that's been taken from you that you're back home, safe. that you chose me and yourself over the mission, that's all i've ever wanted.”

as soon as the words leave your lips leon is leaning his chin up to connect his to yours passionately, only stopping to mumble in the small intimate space between y'all "how did i get so lucky..." before his mouth is back on yours, swallowing every noise he pulls out of you. tilting his head to a better angle for you to bite at his bottom lip playfully in the way he knows makes you smile into the kiss.

"i don't know either, it certainly ain't because you're an incredible person, even if you're incredible person that also happens to be a self sacrificing idiot" you try to pull back to say more but his big hands settle on your waist, keeping you in place.

he lets out a genuine laugh against your lips and you can't help but smile at as the sound vibrates through your own chest, but before you can get another word in his hands move to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he sits up and stands with you still on top of him, making you squeak at the sudden shift of being lifted up so easily.

"not so funny now is it?" he says as he leans back in to capture your lips, purposely ignoring your eyeroll and slick "i don't know.. it's pretty fun in this position" comment at his words, easily carrying you to your shared bedroom.

walking through the door he breathes out a reverent "fuck, i can't believe i'm here with you again.." as he places you down gently before he's immediately crawling on top of you. strong arms that just carried you next to your head propping him up as he runs his hands up along your sides while kissing you passionately, his stubble rubbing against your face in a familiar way you can't help to smile at.

his hands move to rest on your hips as he shifts his attention to your jaw. lavishing the skin there in open mouth kisses and the occasional nip you can't help but let a gasp out at every time. "god leon, more. i need more.. missed you so so much while you were gone, please don't tease." you say desperately, making him smile against your skin at the reaction.

he follows your directions without any complaints, mouth continuing down to your neck, then your collarbones, thoroughly marking the skin there with gentle bites that have your hands coming up to grip onto his shoulders.

then he breaks away, the hands on your hips moving to grip the bottom of your shirt to pull it off fluidly. he's enjoying the sight of your now exposed skin so much that he can't help himself as he bends down to leave soft kisses around your chest as he's unbuttoning his own shirt. when you arch up into his mouth though.. well he can't help the way the last few buttons pop off in his rush.

needing no further encouragement his skilled mouth moves to one of your nipples, tongue caressing circles into your skin that have your hands gripping him even tighter as his hands move down to the waistband of your boxers, incessantly tugging them down.

once he's done with that he switches to your other nipple as his now free hands come up to rub at and lightly pinch the one still wet with his spit. when he feels your moan more than he hears it he can't help but detach for a moment, taking in a shaky breath as he looks back up at you.

“don't worry handsome, i don't plan on teasing you, no..” he breathes out the last bit as his hands move down from your chest to settle on your waist, “no, you deserve better than that, i plan on worshiping you the way i should've been all along” he breathes out, sounding almost reverent.

your hips involuntarily jerk up at the words, reminding him that he's still half clothed. he grabs his belt buckle to undo it and his pants button, pulling the belt out quickly it gets stuck on a loop and you swear you heard him let out a little growl in frustration.

he decides to just push them down as quick as possible, not even bothering getting them further than half down his thighs before his mouth is back on your skin. kissing and mouthing down the middle of your stomach, creeping down your hip.

once he's hovering above his goal he moves to kneel down on the floor. using his grip on your hips to pull you further down the bed until you're settled on the edge of the bed with your legs thrown over his shoulders, plush thighs around his ears. he can't help himself when he starts nuzzling into one, tucking his nose in the crease between pelvis and thigh.

breathing in the scent of you makes his eyes flutter shut for a moment, completely content at being surrounded by you, your scent, your soft skin, your taste..

he's in the perfect position to lick a long stripe up your slit with a flat tongue to gather up the slickness gathered there, as you pleadingly whine at the feeling of him so close, but just not enough. he chuckles against your heat before focusing all his attention on your dick.

god, the feeling of his fingers gently keeping your lips spread as he starts to circle it with his tongue already has you gasping, but when he puckers his lip around it and he sucks you jolt up like you'd been electrocuted.

he's pulling out every trick to have you rutting up in his mouth, trying to bring you to your peak as quick as possible. your hands immediately go to his light gray-brown hair and tug which makes him open his eyes back up to lock onto your own with an intensity that has you clenching around nothing.

while maintaining eye contact his hand slides up your thigh to rest right above your mound, absolutely savoring the way you close your eyes and fall back against the beds.

it's an act of complete trust that has his heart clenching in affection for you and regret at his previous decisions. thanking every god there is that there was a cure and that he could enjoy being with you once again as he moves his head down further, fingers replacing his mouth on your dick.

the dual sensations of his soft lips on your most sensitive area, plus his stubble lightly scratching against the sensitive skin on your inner thighs has you arching up into him. you feel his tongue bullying it's way inside and you can't help your shiver at the way it feels like he's literally trying to pull an orgasm from you, his tongue working you open so well all you can do is move shaky hands down to grip his hair through the waves of pleasure.

you're so close that you're practically fucking yourself on his tongue, making leon chuckle into you before the hand still on your thigh moves to your knee, pushing it up and holding it there to keep you in place.

it pins you well but it also keeps you spread open for his waiting mouth, “be a good boy for me an stay still so i can enjoy my meal, yeah beautiful?” he mumbles out before diving right back inside of you, making you realize he ain't stopping until you cum on his tongue.

the feeling of your husband trying to get his tongue as far inside you as possible has you crying out in pleasure, eyes shut tightly as you start mumbling, “fuck-leon, so good, so good.. don't stop” you cry out desperately, grip on his hair tightening almost painfully as your hips twitch when you cum on his tongue.

as soon as he feels your walls sporadically twitching around him he moans directly into your pussy, the vibrations making your hips twitch while he works you through the orgasm with gentle but intense movements.

when you start tugging on his hair to give your poor dick a break he pulls back until he's leaning his head against your thigh, leaving gentle kisses on the skin there while you pant out, trying to catch your breath.

“thank you gorgeous, you taste..” he takes a long breath in to keep him from losing track of his thoughts so quick, “you taste so amazing, sweetheart. i dreamed about this, about you every time i closed my eyes while i was gone” he admits.

you prop yourself up on your elbow as the hand in his hair scratches his scalp softly, him leaning into your palm with his eyes half closed on instinct, “i know handsome, you did so well, coming home to me safe and healthy..” as his eyes open fully at your words when you give him a teasing smile, “now show me how happy you are to be home.”

he pulls back from your touch with a small smirk on his lips, “don't mind if i do” which makes you groan and fall back in dramatic exacerbation even though you started it.

but when he moves to pull away from you, even though you know it's just to climb onto the bed to join you, you can't stop the way you whimper so sadly at the loss of his presence.

it has him rushing back to join you, laying on his side next to you as he cups your face softly, turning it to face him. “hey, hey, it's okay… i'm not going anywhere, ii promise i'm right here, just let it out..” he whispers out soothing words in between the two of you.

you don't know why, but when he pulled away.. you were afraid you'd look up and see that this had all been a dream. see that this time, this mission, he didn't come home to you. because in reality he almost didn't. it's finally hitting you like a ton of bricks now that you're not aimlessly filling your days as you desperately hope he's gonna come back to you.

thinking back to the memory of your anxiety when he didn't finish his half of the phrase you say every time he leaves you, “come back safe” “always, got very important business to finish here” with a smirk on his lips, but this time he just pulled you in for a hug and walked out the door without meeting your eyes.

you think about the fear that gripped you when you stopped getting updates from sherry that all was well, the way your stomach sunk further when you think to yourself if she'd even be able to tell you, if anyone would be able to tell you, given the nature of his work. then about your relief at waking up in his arms, the joy you felt seeing his hand no longer covered in spidering black veins, of having him here and home and safe.

you start sobbing uncontrollably, shifting to your side as you curl in on yourself, feeling lightheaded from the different emotions. the pain, anger, depression, and relief.

leon had been bracing himself for this since he had gotten home, he knew the stress would take a toll on you. stress that would've only multiplied if he didn't return, he thinks regretfully, wishing desperately he could take away the pain he's caused you.

he knows he was wrong, and he doesn't plan on ever leaving your side again. “shh, it's okay i've got you, i'm still here, sweetheart.” he says with tears welling up in his own eyes as he pulls you in. your body is shaking with sobs as you curl into his chest, gripping on to his arms and back like he's gonna disappear at any moment. “i know.. i know, i promise i'll always come back to you.”

“but you almost didn't, you almost didn't come home. you didn't promise me you'd come back to me when you left, you left without promising me leon!” you get out in between sobs, hands weakly smacking against his chest as he pulls your shaking body fully to his, bringing you into a tight hug.

he rests his forehead against your own as icy blue eyes meet yours, locking you both into a moment of intimacy. his hand cupping your jaw moving to brush your hair back as he quietly admits, “you're right, and i am so, so sorry for that sweetheart.” his brow furrows a bit, “i thought.. actually- it doesn't matter now.”

he pauses for a moment, jaw clenching in resolution, “it doesn't matter, because what i thought was wrong, so so wrong.” his thumb strokes underneath your eyes, wiping the tears falling because of him. he swears to himself again he'll never do this to you again.

“and i promise you, if you'll give me the chance i will spend every single day of the rest of my life making up for the mistake of making you go through that. i can't erase the fear i caused you but i swear, i'm gonna do everything i can to atone for it..” he tells you with complete sincerity shining through.

you close your eyes, leaning into his hand as he wipes away the fresh tears spilling out. with a tearful voice you ask desperately, “god leon, you cant just- what happened out there? i'm so, so glad to have you home, but when you left you looked like you were headed for the gallows. i'll never forget that look on your face, but now you're here a-” your eyes flutter open to study his face.

what's staring back at you is the honesty in his eyes, his bandaged injuries on display now that his standard issue white shirt, that the dso has thousands of, is gone. the way he looks like he actually rested, no longer chronically tired with dark circles under his eyes the way you've gotten accustomed to. the way he's no longer shaking with coughs from raccoon city syndrome that got worse by the day.

“now you're here talking like a man who's seen the light, and i don't.. are you okay?” you admit, concerned and overwhelmed by the sudden change in his actions.

“i'm doing what i should've been from the beginning. i am so fucking sorry it took me so long to realize that my shit wasn't just affecting me, but our relationship and you.” he clenches his eyes shut, tears spilling out freely. “and i swear to you that i'll tell you everything that happened..” his arm around your torso squeezes you tighter to him, “.. but i need to just be with you right now” he begs you in a voice tight from tears.

the sight of leon -someone who has survived some of the most awful things, dealt with monsters both human and BOW so terrible that they haunt him even now- crying and begging to just hold onto you has your eyes softening.

your lips meet his in a sweet embrace as you nudge at his left shoulder, encouraging him to lean back flat. as soon as he complies you're crawling up to straddle his waist as you lay your entire body down to rest on his chest.

when you're settled comfortably he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you in tighter like he wouldn't ever get the chance again. you just chuckle against his warm skin as your hands come up to bury themselves in the at the nape of his neck, absentmindedly twirling the hair there.

one of the arms around you pulls away to grasp your chin, tilting your head until he's able to reach your lips. the soft touches quickly become heated when he groans into your mouth, loving the way your hands had moved to start scratching at his scalp.

it was everything to him, the obvious care in the gesture soothing his overworked, stressed mind that was only made worse in wrenwood, and especially.. after.

it has him leaning into you with more intensity, more desperation, kisses turning from intimate and loving into pure need for one another, the need to be closer, to be together.

when you have to pull away for a breather you don't go far, panting against the stubble of his jaw in between the kisses and nips you leave on the skin there, intent on marking him in the exact same way. you leave a trail all the way down his neck, and when you get to the crook of it you nuzzle into it with a smirk on your face before you open your mouth and bite down.

leon can't help the way he jolts under you, arching up into you as a groan gets ripped from his chest at the possessiveness of the action. it has him letting out a breathy “fuck, baby…” as his hands move to grip your hips like a lifeline.

you're smiling when you pull back, soothing over the dark mark with your thumb as you sit up to stare at the mark with satisfaction. it has you biting your lip as you grind your bare cunt against him, making the both of you groan at the smooth slide from your wetness.

you lean back to grab at his cock, giving it a couple quick pumps before you start to guide the blunt head inside you. the feeling of your wet heat so near has his hips jerking up, but instead of entering you he puts his hands on the underside of your thighs.

his big hands are holding you up, effortlessly stopping you from sinking down while his gray-blue eyes are staring up at you with concern. “wait. sweetheart, you only just stopped crying.. i don't think w-”

you quickly shut that shit down, “leon. i'm in my husbands lap, naked, grinding down, and trying to get him inside me. i am enthusiastically consenting.” you tell him with a playful roll of your eyes, unable to contain your smile.

“plus…” you trail off as your hands drift across the curve of his pecs, “i thought you said you'd do anything to show me how sorry you are and make it up to me.. promised you were gonna take care of me leon..” you say with an exaggerated pout on your face.

your teasing has him tilting his head back with a groan as he gives in to you, hands gripping your thighs even tighter before he lets go. “i suppose i did, didn't i..” he tries to give you a ‘disapproving’ stare that just looks more like a pout and the sight makes you smile wickedly, looking like the cat that got the cream as you start to sink down.

the stretch has you gasping out and clawing at his chest, erring on the side of too much. “you're almost there sweetheart..” he encourages while his warm hands run up your body. moving to cup your chest and thumb over your nipples as you settle down on his pelvis, taking a moment to just breathe.

it don't matter how many times you've taken your husband, the way he fills you up perfectly always steals your breath.

while you're getting used to the feeling you start rutting against him slowly, hands trailing down his chest down to his muscular stomach. you watch in interest at the way the muscles tense and twitch under your touch before you plant your hands there to give you more stability as you give a few quick, shallow bounces.

you quickly settle into a rhythm where on each downward stroke you're letting out a keening whine from the way he stretches you out, cock bullying your cervix out the way to make more room for him. you can't help but think about how well he fills you up, and you're not the only one.

“shit… look at you handsome..” he lets out a groan as you clench down harder at the praise, “taking me so goddamn well” he encourages, moving his strong hands underneath your ass to do most of the lifting for you once you had set a comfortable pace, “this dick was made just for you, i was made just for you” he murmurs out with a look of adoration on his face.

those loving, damn near heart eyes leon is aiming at you sends a jolt through your body. it has you sinking back down as you grind yourself against him, chasing your own high. your jaw drops open in a silent scream as the new angle has him rubbing directly against your g spot.

with his hands no longer lifting up your hips one moves to your lower back, trailing it up your spine with a featherlight touch that has you shivering against him. his hand stops at your nape, cupping the skin there and rubbing along the muscle with his thumb as he gently pulls you down until you're laid back across his broad chest.

you tilt your chin up to connect your lips, tongue tracing at his bottom lip before you bite down. his chest rumbles with a groan as his other hand drifts down to rub against your dick. the jolt of pleasure has you gasping into the kiss with your hands reaching up to grab onto something, anything. they end up falling on strong shoulders as leon moves his hips up to meet your mindless rutting.

your nails bite into his skin, leaving shallow little crescents that turn into long red stripes from clawing at the skin as you lock up around him. you let out a moan of leon's name directly into his mouth, hips still rutting down through the aftershocks.

the intensity of your orgasm has you falling against his chest, cunt still twitching around him. you're absolutely boneless on top him, panting into his sweat damp skin while his hands move to cradle your face. encouraging you to face up towards him he strokes your cheeks on either side as he asks, “how're you doing handsome? you done?” with full sincerity.

you lovingly roll your eyes at him, moving to bite at his hand which he pulls away with a fond chuckle. it moves to trace your temple and push your hair away from your equally sweat slicked skin softly as he gives you a moment to gather yourself.

leaning in to his touch you let out a hum of consideration before you tease, “are you done, old man? i mean- it's okay if you are! i know how back pain can be at your a-” you're cut off by your own laughter as he moves to flip your position until you're the one under him.

leon takes a moment to swallow thickly as he brackets you with his forearms. you're smiling so brightly, so trusting underneath hands that have killed things you couldn't even comprehend. things he kills specifically so you don't have to comprehend the horrors that created them.

it steals away his breath for a moment, how could he ever consider the possibility of leaving you to fend for yourself when he knows exactly what's out there?

as if you can read his mind, or more likely the sad look on his face leon don't even realize he's got going on, your hands reach up to grab his face like he did to you before. except when you do it you shake his head back and forth, trying to “forcefully” shake the thoughts out of his head.

when he huffs out a laugh and relaxes you stop messing with him, happy to remind him that theres no other place you'd rather be than trapped between your husband's arm, surrounded by him in every way.

his eyes pierce into yours as he lines himself up and pushes into you again. even when your own close at the feeling of fullness after the sensitivity of your orgasm- you know he's watching. you can feel his eyes on you, studying your reactions as if he were worried about missing out on a single flicker in your expression.

when he sits back up he sets a slow, deep pace while his hands trail down your body. when they reach your thighs he guides them into the exact position he wants, one leg over each shoulder as he leans back in to kiss you.

he's got you in a fucking mating press. it's got your eyes rolling in the back of your skull with the new angle he's hitting. his every stroke is rubbing against your g spot while he's got your knees fully pinned to your chest. he moves to catch your lips and pull you into a heated kiss, nudging your legs further up as his hips pick up the pace.

you break away from his mouth with a sharp gasp, unable to focus on his lips as you desperately try to catch your breath. every thrust is pushing you closer and closer to the edge, you just need-

leon nuzzles in to your neck and chuckles as he kisses up to your ear so he can whisper, “all this for an old man like me, handsome?” ending with a teasing nip against your lobe. it has laughter bubbling up between moans as you let out a breathless, “only for you.”

it has him dropping his forehead to your collarbone with a groan as his hips twitch up against your fluttering cunt. he moves a hand to stroke your dick as he starts to mindlessly mumble against your sweaty skin, “you feel so good around me. fuck, im going to cum.”

his panting breaths turn into wrecked whimpers, steady pumps into jerky back and forth motions as he finally spills inside you, filling you with thick ropes of cum. he's still jerking you off in between twitchy thrusts when you clench so hard around him and scream as you cum around him.

it has his jaw dropping with a punched out moan while he works you through it, stretching both of your pleasures out. he don't stop until you're both teetering on it being actually too much, enraptured with the way your walls are milking him until he's bordering on painful over-sensitivity.

that third orgasm has you melted into a puddle beneath your husband. between the praise, his warmth filling you, and his reassuring presence completely surrounding you, you're completely blissed out.

as you catch your breath you reach your hands into his hair and drop your legs from his shoulders to pull him down into a loving kiss. you're smiling against him, about to pull away to tease him when you taste something salty and feel wetness on your face. concerned, you try to pull back from him, but he stubbornly chases your lips with his own, letting out a desperate mumble of, “wait-please..” against your lips.

he takes in a shaky breath through his nose as he pulls out of you slowly, before falling to the side of you and pulling you into his chest. with thick arms protecting you from the rest of the world he confesses, “i.. i can't explain everything without putting you in serious danger.” he says with genuine remorse.

“what i can say is.. it was always my life on the line for theirs. it was.. the only way i could protect the people around me. with sherry, i.. they were going to-” he cuts himself off sharply, taking a deep breath to center himself again.

he clutches you even closer as he confesses, “taking this job is-was the only way i could keep sherry away from those.. shit.” he clenches eyes shut for a moment to think about what he can share.

“it was up to me to keep her safe. claire absolutely tried her best, but she was even younger than i was. i couldn't put that on her. i had to keep sherry safe” he tells you as tears start to well up in those gorgeous blue eyes you love so much.

“but when i met grace, and then emily- it made me realize how far i've come since then, how far we've come. i'm no longer the young rookie that's trying to save everyone yet unable to actually save anyone. i've got colleagues, friends, a family to help me protect what matters.” his hands trail down your arm to grip your own, pulling one to his lips he leaves a kiss on the center of your palm.

“and i am so fucking sorry i took that for granted. i was so consumed with everything i'd done wrong that i couldn't see the things i'd done right until i almost lost everything..” he kisses your hand again before letting it fall so he can cup your face, gently rubbing away the tears falling down your flushed cheeks.

“and i am so lucky to have an opportunity to be here to tell you just how wrong i was, how sorry i am for everything..” his voice cracks at the last bit, eyes closing in shame at his own actions.

it has your eyes softening even further, staring at him with an enamored look, “leon.. i'm the lucky one. you do so much, giving everything to come back home to me, you don't even realize how much you do.. plus….” you trail off as your tone lightens, a small smile on your lips, “i'm the one getting to watch my big strong husband tell me how wrong he was, and how desperate he is to prove he's so sorry for doubting his absolutely perfect husband.” you tease, desperate to fix the sour mood and pull a huff of laughter out of him.

“but seriously.. i'm proud of you, you know? you been mak-” you're cut off by your own laughter when leon reacts to your praise by dropping his head to hide it in the crook of your neck.

he starts leaving kisses on the deep red marks he left there previously as his hips start rutting up into your own. his hands move, pulling one of your thighs up and over his hip so he can grind his cock teasingly along your soaked slit, letting out a wrecked moan against the slick skin of your neck.

you let out an amused lil hum and move your hands to thread through his hair as you ask innocently, “what is it dear?” you can feel it when his mouth pulls up into a smile as he lets out a groan of defeat at your teasing words.

“you know what you did, what you do to me…” he mumbles out while his hand trails down to rub your clit, hips gently pushing back up into you.

when he's fully sheathed inside you he stills, pulling his face out from your neck to ask, “this alright, handsome? if n-” he checks in with you so sweetly.

it's one of the many reasons you're in love with the man, you absolutely adore how he treats you with so much consideration.. but right now?

“leon.” you deadpan, interrupting his question before it's even fully out. you refuse to let him stop on your behalf when you are exactly where you wanna be, needing him just as desperately as he needs you.

you need him right now actually, and you emphasize that point by grinding up against him, making yourself moan out when it pushes him even further inside.

“got it..” he chuckles out in reply, but it quickly turns into a moan when you clench down on him in retaliation. his head dips back into your neck, moving to mark your collarbones and chest in the same way he did your throat and jaw, as his hand on you clit starts to move in slow, circular motions.

every time you grind your hips against his he pushes up to meet your movements, encouraging you to fuck up onto him as you use his cock to chase your own orgasm.

while you're lost in your own pleasure he's moving his head back to stare down at you intently, almost needing to catalogue every single one of your gorgeous expressions.

“thank you” he says in a low tone, not wanting to break the blanket of silence that had settled over you both, only interrupted by breathless gasps and moans.

you hum out in confusion as you open your eyes, only for them to immediately meet his own that’re already intensely focused on your face.

“i just.. needed this. the closeness, you. thank you.” he chokes out in a rough voice. he's not embarrassed at needing you, and he never would be. he's just embarrassed at how much he needs the comfort you bring him. the comfort of being taken care of, valued, everything he's not allowed when he's on the clock.

“of course, my love. always. i will always be here to give you the closeness and the care you deserve, leon..” you trail off as your hands move back to his hair, fingers absently twirling the soft locks there.

he moves to capture your lips with his own passionately, humming into the kiss when your hands grip him even tighter, pulling at his hair. he gasps into your mouth at the twinge of pain as his hips buck up into yours.

the movement has you smirking against him, encouraged by the reaction. but the smirk is quickly wiped from your face when leon moves his hand to trail between your bodies in retaliation.

when his hand touches your cock your expression crumbles, hand reaching down to grab his forearm. your nails dig into the skin there, unsure if you want to push him away or pull him closer, you're so sensitive from your previous orgasms you almost can't take it.

“yeah baby.. just like that..” he murmurs hungrily into your mouth before pulling away from your lips just enough to get out, “you're so good for me handsome.. just one more for me? yeah?”

his hand starts moving even faster against you, and when your jaw drops in a silent scream he completely breaks away from the kiss. needing to see the way you tense and shudder through your orgasm as your nails dig into his forearm hard enough to break the top layer of skin.

too much, it's too much, you feel like your grip on leon is the only thing keeping you tethered to your body. all you can do is hold onto him as you pant out, coming down from the intensity.

but when you do catch your breath, blearily blinking your eyes open, you can't help but notice that leon hadn't cum. you make a questioning noise as you try and grind your hips down on his still hard cock, but he stops your movements once again.

he brings his soaked hand to wrap around your hips and keeping them still, “wait.. i- can we stay like this? please..” he begs you breathlessly, fingers digging in to your skin in desperation as he finally asks for exactly what he wants.

in response you just relax into his chest with a hum of acknowledgment, too tired to actually reply. you can feel his chest rumble against you in a low chuckle when you nuzzle the top of your head against his chin, trying to burrow into him even deeper despite there being no room left between you.

the pure intimacy of your positions, skin to skin, wrapped up in each other, while he's still inside you, has you shivering against him. eyes fluttering closed again as you listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat, the same heartbeat you can feel.

the thought of falling asleep like this, with the strong pulse underneath and inside of you.. it has you unconsciously clenching down against him despite the sensitivity.

it has leon letting out a wrecked whimper into your hair, the hand not moving back and forth against your hip comes up to bury itself there. when he starts scratching your scalp with gentle movements he can feel the way you melt even further into him, letting out a content sigh at being so completely surrounded by the other man.

leon though? leon stays up, watching the steady rise and fall of your back, enjoying being able to feel the way your breathing evens out by the puffs of warmth against his chest… and especially enjoying the way he's able to feel your slick walls subtly clenching around him even while completely relaxed against him.

“just look at us. we make too much sense together!” humming lightly as if he wasn’t drilling his cock into you: your walls swallowing his dick with each thrust. veins visible beneath his pale skin, fingertips digging softly into the plush flesh of your hips, the fabric of your pink satin gown pooling into the small of your back, bed creaking underneath the sheer force of his thrust.

he’s got you face down in the sheets, a soft silk pillow braced beneath your hips for support, the fabric cool against your warm skin — a sweet, sweet contrast to how his length stretched you out as his pelvis slammed into you, sending harsh ripples through your skin as he stuffed you full of himself to the hilt.

“mmmph— toru! shut uup!” you whined as his flared tip dug into the pulpy spot hidden away in your walls, leaving your pussy fluttering around his cock as he coated your skin in soft kisses and suckles.

one thing you learned about satoru was that once he got into his head, there was no easy way of pulling him out.

if anything, he was fully locked in. as if the only thing mattered was fucking you senseless, as evidence the two of you belonged together. which, quite frankly, you needed no convincing of. not when he spoiled you so much.

“you don’t think that’s true, right baby?” he hums, a genuine pout on his face, leaning over you, his bare chest flush against your back before tugging your earlobe gently between his teeth, making you suck in a sharp breath.

your hands tightened against the sheets as his tip relentlessly squishes against your sweet spot without even meaning to.

you only let out a muffled cry at his question, soft “oou’s” and “ahh’s” escaping your throat: each thrust getting wetter and messier by the second. the veins of his cock scraping against each nook and cranny of your velvety walls as you practically milked him dry, clamping down on him as his hips snapped forward into you, wetness pooling down between your thighs & drool spilling out into the sheets as your eyes glazed over prettily.

pretty.

you were so fucking pretty.

gojo always loved when you got like this. a pretty drooling mess, all because of his dick. all because of him.

“pretty,” he choked out, “pretty, pretty girl, so mgnh— fuckin’ pretty”, he gushed mindlessly, drunk off your puffy cunt, coating his cock in white sticky streaks, a creamy ring of white spreading over his shaft as your ass bounced off of him over n’ over again.

his hand slivered down over your arm before wrapping around your hand, fingers lacing through yours as he pressed a firm bite to your shoulder, “c’mon… answer me.” voice muffled against your heated skin, but unmistakably impatient.

“toru !” you mindlessly babbled, half scolding, half pleading as you pathetically pushed yourself back on his dick trying to chase more of him, burying your face in the sheets entirely as if to escape him, “wanna— please!”

“wanna what? go ahead, baby. say what you’re thinkin’.” he practically growls against your ear, his grip on your hips not ceasing their brutal pace.

“cum— wanna cum, please”, you gasped out, words slurred together, voice syrupy, holding onto any last semblance coherence.

“mm? you’re close?” he cooed against your ear, “use your words pretty girl—say what i wanna hear.” his sweaty, damp forehead was buried in the crook of your neck, his full weight squishing you beneath him as he let out a soft whimper against your ear, making you clamp down on him.

“you’re perfect f’me!” you cry out as he removes his hand from the flesh of your hips to tug lightly at your roots, pulling your face from the sheets, lips plush and slick, brows knitted together so perfectly, eyes half-lidded, seconds away from shutting in utter bliss.

with your head tilted, he presses a sloppy kiss to your exposed neck before his teeth met your flesh, followed by his tongue swirling over the sensitive spot. “hah—so fucking perfect!!”

he lets out a low laugh, “good girl… thaaaat’s what i like to hear.” he drawled, his voice breaking off into a heavy groan as his cock twitched inside you, stirring up your guts.

the only thing slipping past your lips now being a messy blend of hiccups and cloying moans, all his sweet words of praise going in one ear and out the other, drowned out by the obscene clap of skin on skin.

his hand tightens around your own, the other sliding up to cup your jaw, leaving just enough pressure to make you whine, bringing your gaze back to his.

his pupils are blown wide, almost unreadable, that crazed edge that made your tummy twist up.

“go on then, cum on your soulmate’s cock.”

and as if under his spell, you do: cunt milking him and your juices spill all over his shaft, coating his sack as your body jolted everso slightly, thighs trembling violently under his touch, face falling back into the cushions as he begrudgingly let go of your face.

before your spasming cunt could milk him dry, satoru groans, squeezing his eyes shut before abruptly pulling out of you, chest heaving as he lets out a shaky laugh under his breath, flared tip red and angry, thin rivulets of precum spilling onto the curve of your ass, cock twitching violently as he held back his own orgasm.

“you’re gonna be the death of me...” he pants from above you, sweat slicked forehead resting heavily against your back.

after a minute of lying under him limp and boneless, your fingers flexed weakly as you tried to steady yourself, trembles soon dying down into stillness, you hum, “satoru…”, voice sweet yet wrecked.

he pips up with a small “mm?”, leaning over your shoulder, clearly amused. taking in how your pretty face was all undone. tear stained, warm and glossy with sweat, lashes clumped together as you only batted your wide, glassy eyes at him, soft confusion sitting behind your cloudy gaze.

“why didn’t you . . . y’know? . . . finish inside?”

he only blinks down at your before letting out a soft laugh: “oh? you want me to cum in you that badly?” he taunts, only earning a frown you.

“fine. i’ll tell you.” he hums as he leans back up to his full stature whilst resting on folded knees. “i’m not done with you yet pretty girl”, smiling as he flips you over, dragging you back to him, hiking your legs up over his shoulders.

you only blink up at him, lips parted, a soft gasp slipping out at the sudden change in position.

“y’know…” he frowns, leaning over you, white strands tickling your forehead. “people are getting a little loud about us.” his thumbs trace lazy circles into your side. “we should probably check if they’re right.”

“as in . . ?”

“well, you could sit on my face for starters!”

yeah.

he was definitely more than you could handle.

wrote this at 3 am 👌🏽

“Long night?” Kento asks softly, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused expression on his face.

You sigh, nodding. “You could say that, thank you for the coffee Nanami! I owe you the next one.”

You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper chic, sort of Gojo’s vibe. Yet instead of him eyeing her, he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all,” Nanami says, clearing his throat. “Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know, smiling and leaning back.

“We don’t really get birthdays,” he mumbles, running a hand over his face.

You grimace, sipping the coffee again. “No we really don’t, but thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looks disgusted as he shakes his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as he walks off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, how could his spoiled ass walk a few steps!? No, you must go to him.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, trying not to roll your eyes, tapping your pretty glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“Meet me in my office, sweetheart. Now.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was just a constant source of annoyance for you.

You clear your throat and plaster on a smile. “Coming, Mr. Gojo.”

You smooth down your cute little office dress, if you had to be miserable you’d at least be presentable about it! You’re adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office, lit bright by the sun, peering in the door way to see the bane of your existence.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the very top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, these hints of bergamot from his cologne, it was all something that was very distinctive to Gojo.

He may be a little shit but he smelled good.

He also looked good, reclining casually in that leather chair, his signature dark blue Gucci sunglasses on, round ones that are covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciate, because they were so damn pretty it made it hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant you weren’t immune to those baby blues.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

Satoru taps his fingers on his abdomen, just resting there on that dress shirt all casually, long fingers you had no business looking at for too long. “Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all,” he smirks all arrogantly, and you have to grit your teeth not to just crash out on this man. “You have two meetings today, sir. One for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that,” he says with a little sigh. “I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.”

Oh fuck no.

Not on your birthday.

You shut the heavy door behind you, resting your aching head against it for a moment and shutting your eyes.

“I asked for tonight off,” Gojo scoffs at that – this little fucker scoffs, grinning, flashing those damn fangs like some vampire, all glinting from the sun that beams in. “I am not going.”

“No?” He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“No,” you hate how he makes your heart race when he’s in front of you.

“I'll pay you well, sweetheart – plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit, get paid to have some fun, drinks and food, dancing…”

“As your date?” You ask, pursing your lips a bit.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario,” he grins like he’s bestowing the finest gift on you. “Don’t fall in love tonight.”

“Psh,” you roll your eyes. “Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially a date with me. I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy,” well fucking ouch. “I need you, little law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too, so it’s a no brainer.”

Not eye candy.

Men flirt with you pretty frequently actually, on the very rare occasions you’re not working you’ve had quite a few ask you out. You know you’re a pretty girl, but of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to try to even attempt to look like a model. Shit, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty, is that what you're saying?”

Satoru pauses then, frowning at you.

“What, no? You're very pretty,” he'd never said that about you – HR and all. Though he’d banged damn near all his assistants besides you, Satoru barely complimented your work let alone your looks.

Him calling you pretty really fucks you up, you have to catch your breath, looking up at him, curious how he had suddenly gotten just an inch away.

Sneaky ass.

“‘Not eye candy,’ isn’t that what it means?”

“Well no, that’s not what it means, just you dress kinda boring,” you blink again, as he digs himself into a hole. “No like…just all businessy and shit? You don’t dress sexy is all. I mean… not that you have to, I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit.”

You snort at that, shaking your head – you loved clothes, and to dress up, but of course he probably wouldn’t know that. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work for you.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks,” this man… “But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.”

Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted, and they always worked – You were almost immune to that.

You take a breath for courage, it’s about time you said something, especially if your plan is to go. “It's my birthday and you want me to work overtime?”

Gojo frowns. “Birthday?”

He looks utterly confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient. “Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you carefully. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe,” you do look young but then, so does Satoru. “But it’s actually my third birthday here, and you have never given me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have some big plans, hot shot?”

No. Sure don't. “Yep.”

“Cancel em,” he shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl. “What? Need me to cancel them?

“No! I won’t.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments, before flickering back to your face.

“No? What do you mean ‘no’?”

No one turned Gojo down – no one ever told the gorgeous, manchild of a CEO the word ‘no’ to anything. His six-foot-four frame bends over just a bit as he places an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features, eyes lidded just a bit. you glare back up at him.

“Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday,” he gasps, all affronted.

“What, then have fun with me! I’m fun!”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm,” he tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact and what it makes you feel, your tummy clenches up. “I'll make it fun, I promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

You are gonna fucking agree, aren’t you?

“Gojo, I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too,” you offer, he shakes his head, leaning too close.

“You're my best, sweetheart, I need you by my side.”

Bastard. Not him batting his pretty white lashes.

You sigh. “Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a shaly breath as he backs away. “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that!?”

“Why not?” He’s sticking his hands in his pockets now, grin widening. “I'll have a brand new outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this event.”

“Probably not…” You’re not turning down free dresses from Satoru Gojo’s rich ass. “Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks, like he’s touching your body. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?”

Fuck.

Your cheeks heat up at his little assessment, the way it feels like he’s brushing his fingers over your body – though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a pussy, and it reacted to him in ways that make you irritated. Satoru just chuckles deeply, turning away and waving a hand.

“You're dismissed, sweetheart. See you tonight.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just…

Work.

No you weren’t doing anything – but you could have cuddled on your couch! Not had to mingle and spend a night with Satoru Gojo of all people.

You rush out all irritated, downing your now cold coffee and cursing that blue eyed man.

****

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh,” you grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup.

If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it – lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your pretty white day bed. You open it finally, the pretty black gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of the little shit Gojo himself. You gently pull out the gown and hold it up, and almost all of your irritation dies off.

Fuck if he doesn’t have good taste.

Black and decked with sequins, it glitters in the light, it was a silky fabric, soft as a caress against your skin. You undo the little zipper and peer in the mirror, sliding it on, it glides over your curves perfectly, coming to cinch in at the nip of your waist. The neckline was slutty dear lord – it plunged ridiculously low in fact, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work.

The question was, how did Gojo know your damn measurements?

Pervert is what he was.

A pervert with good taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was as if he truly knew every measurement you had, better than if you’d went and tailored the damn thing.

Well at least you get a pretty dress for your pain and suffering!

You spin to look at the back of the dress in front of the mirror, it dips daringly low as well, exposing the smooth expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel super pretty in a dress like this.

You rummage through your little jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress, and deciding on a pretty silver necklace and earrings, something simple. You’re clipping the earrings on when a text pops up.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, when another text blings.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…

Fucking Gojo. Ugh.

You: Coming now.

You lock up and head down the stairs of the apartment building, and see Ijichi Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was one year younger than you, that boggled your mind more than Nanami only being one year older.

Geto and Gojo wore people out.

If you didn’t have a great skincare routine, Gojo would make you look old too.

“My lady,” he says sweetly, and you smile at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head resting back so that his throat was exposed.

His head snaps down, and he looks right at you, no sunglasses, only those pretty  blue eyes, the pouty pink lips parted. You tense, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one, but he’s quiet – blinking those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shuts the door, his gaze taking you in ever so slowly.

Achingly slow, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trails off, shaking his head a bit.

How does Gojo say how good you look?

Since when is Satoru Gojo tongue tied like this? And he is tongue tied, you’re so pretty tonight he can hardly catch his heart from racing, so effortlessly beautiful always in your business suits, but he’s never seen you like this. Twenty sixth birthday and he came up with excuses to make you come with him.

Yeah, Satoru knows it’s your birthday.

He came up with the idea to ‘need you’ like the selfish little shit he is, like he comes up with every idea ever, random things he knows damn well he can do himself, but why would he? When he can look at his pretty assistant constantly, hear her angry sigh and smell whatever body spray she has sprtized on her?

Satoru Gojo was a dick, and he knows it.

“Thank you for the dress,” you say softly, as he just… stares.

“Of course, consider it my birthday gift,” he smirks then, as if he’s composed himself. “You look…”

Beautiful.

Gorgeous.

Ethereal.

“Really fucking hot.”

Really Satoru, can’t come up with anything better?

You giggle at that – not beautiful or breathtaking, but would that really be something Gojo would say? No, you’ll take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you suddenly, ever the sneaky little jerk, and you tremble a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you, as your boss ya know.”

You roll your eyes and snort. “I can’t dress like this at work, Gojo.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so,” his fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sends tingles through your body, making you even more irritated at him. Why is he so close? “I’m buying you an entire new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are, I like to be professional, unlike you,” you smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grows cold without the touch, goosebumps laid out in a network across your skin.

“You do really look good,” you take in his outfit, a black tux which fit his slim muscles perfectly – It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear at one of his charity auctions.

Maybe Gojo was some rich superhero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too,” you murmur softly. “You always do.”

“I know,” Satoru winks at you as you roll your eyes.

Conceited ass Satoru.

He’s leaning forward to snatch up champagne, brushing against you far too intimately, you hold your breath and jerk just a bit when he pops it, pouring you each a pretty flute full. You take one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, sipping the tart drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious,” you lick your lower lip and find him a breath away once more. You don’t move, but you’re frozen in place, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asks then, his voice breaking, eyes gone dark. You have never seen Gojo like this.

You blink just a bit, taking a breath. “Uh… how did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl,” he gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? What the heck, Satoru… Yes I was thinking of it, and seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny.

Fuck Gojo – not literally.

His eyes study your own seriously now, jaw setting. “If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.”

Your breaths come faster, every word was pouring like honey from his tongue, his hand tightening in your hair, yanking your head back ever so slightly to look up at him – making your mind race.

Imagine him pulling it when you…

Satoru’s imagining it right now, pulling your hair as you suck his cock down your loud little mouth, fucking your throat till it’s sore and you can’t talk the next day. Filthy images as the strands card through his fingers, and you scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists against his chest, on the material of his dress shirt.

God you’re pretty.

“Oh, would I?” You challenge him, god you always do, notching your chin up a bit, Satoru laughs without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office, hmm?” You swallow nervously, eyes narrowing. “How many have you had to send home for me? You think I don’t know how to fuck you dumb if I wanted to? Think I couldn’t rail your pretty cunt so hard you squirt all over me? Oh sweetheart, you wouldn’t even be able to walk when I finished with you.”

Gojo’s filthy fucking whisper was against your lips, it’s goddamn diabolical how he talks, you could taste the champagne sweet on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucks on, your mouth almost salivates in his proximity. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him, those images running rampant.

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it!? You don’t want me anyway. Not your type,” he snorts at that, one of his big hands on your waist, touching the bare skin on your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?”

“I sure do,” his thumb brushes underneath your breast, an action that makes your nipples tighten, aching as they press against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down, noticing the peaks and humming to himself.

“The women who entertain me,” his fingers move in little circles against your ribcage, eyes shooting back up to yours. “They aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm,” it’s difficult to focus, you sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. “It doesn’t matter, you’re just talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightens, and it makes you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any, I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, tugging at it. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know,” you scowl up at him. “Guess what? I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

Satoru scoffs and your fingers itch to smack him. “As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit,” you grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time to make any! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slap him then. Slap your Boss.

Slap Gojo Satoru.

His hand catches your wrist, long fingers wrapping it tightly, pale cheek just blooming pink from your mark, your hand stings from the hit, breath making your chest rise and fall as his lips curve down.

“Ring a little true, sweetheart?”

“I can get fucked if I want, any time thank you very much,” you yank your hand back and shake it out.

“I didn’t say that, clearly you can get fucked,” his voice deepens, as he imagines all the ways he’d have you. “It’s just you don’t even want to, and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type to fuck around.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time,” Gojo’s eyes widen at that, brows raised. “Yep. Sure would, he’s handsome – oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would, so does that answer it for you?”

Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears as the blood rushes through at the statement, and Gojo’s grip on your waist tightens. “You would fuck… Nanami Kento?”

Ah, you made him mad – Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot,” you shrug casually, smiling all fucking mean at him now.

“Out of anyone in the office?” He asks, voice quiet – this side of Gojo no one ever really sees, when he’s utterly jealous, unhinged and insane.

You make him this way.

“Mmhmm,” you answer, then he smirks.

“Including me?”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a man…

Look at him, who wouldn’t?

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand catches your chin, forcing your gaze to his.

You swallow nervously, licking your lips and drawing his attention to them. “No.”

“No, what?”

“No… not including you, fuck is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffs. “You’re childish.”

“Me, childish!? You are!” You shove at him again, and he lets you go, you take a greedy breath and down more champagne. “It changes nothing, I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better,” his voice sounds so damn hurt – it sounds sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downs his own glass and looks away from you.

“You think what, fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot, I’m the best fuck there is,” you scoff at that, Satoru just shrugs, some of that casual, conceited demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen,” you say firmly now. He smiles.

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…” Fuck him.

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words,” you scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by, setting down your drink and crossing your arms.

“Are we there yet?”

He laughs now. “See? Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm, or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag,” you gasp at his audacity, turning back and seeing his mean little grin.

“I do not! And I am not stuck up!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You feel your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks that fall a little too perfect.

“Oh, do tell, pretty little assistant,” he practically purrs those words, leaning forward. “I’m dying to know how.”

“Cut the shit, Satoru,” you roll your eyes at him. “You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off on women, or in their mouths…” He shrugs like the little slut he is, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!” You hiss.

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe,” you blink, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.”

Gojo lifts your hand, ridiculously small in his own grip – the man has five inch fingers or more, you swear, and the touch alone is ruining you – the sight of your hand swallowed by him.

“They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper is so damn cocky, you can’t stand him.

Can’t stand thinking of his fingers inside you.

You’re breathless, as he holds out his own hand against yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of men you’ve been with. Likely larger than the couple of dudes in college, which was about all of your experience, Gojo’s probably done more in a night that you have – slutty ass CEO Nepo baby that he is.

“I… you…” You want to cuss him out, quit right then.

You should quit!

You also want his fingers inside your now soaking wet cunt.

Fuck him.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood,” his hand takes your own, putting it right between your thighs, making you whimper. “We don’t have to fuck for that, there are so many ways I can keep my pretty assistant happy.”

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You manage to breathe out, but you have no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. – because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to fuck your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant,” Gojo’s plump lips kiss down your jaw, his hand gently pressing yours against your soppy little cunt over those panties, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already so hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

You bite your lower lip, feeling your own fingers led by his brush over your soaking wet panties. “F-fuck off…” It’s a whisper, a pathetic one at that – you want it, and you hate him.

You hate that your walls are just pulsing around nothing, that your clit is eagerly twitching against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan of your name from his lips against your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came.

Gojo slides his own finger against your panties for a brief moment as he moves yours – pausing, moaning again in that slutty way he does – pulling back to look at you.

You’re so fucking wet, all Satoru can do is imagine burying his face, letting you use him – every time he pisses you off you could push him to his knees and spread those pretty thighs, You could make him lick, kiss, taste your pretty cunt as his endless apologies, as he drags his fingertip higher, and uses his more than yours, he watches you.

You were so gorgeous like this.

“Fuck,” he whispers, something was just different about you. Gojo with women was always so self assured, but something about touching you has him vulnerable, when his long finger presses against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. “Sweetheart…”

He shouldn’t talk like that, look like that, you’re arching your hips up, and his fingertip is running up up slightly, pressing more firmly, your hand grips his collar, tugging him close. You’re dumb to do this, to roll your hips and whine all needy, watching as his eyes go black.

Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady,” Kiyotaka’s voice has you both realize the limo had stopped.

Fuck.

You two shoot apart, and you struggle to catch your breath, adjusting your dress hastily, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo turns and adjusts his pants, tugging his cock up into his waist band so he wouldn’t have a bulge at this damn event – not even looking at you.

How can he look at you without sinking to his knees and begging you to coat his face right now?

He turns back and clears his throat, you curse softly when you finally notice his tie is all fucked up.

“You can’t tie properly, Satoru,” you murmur, leaning over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it until it’s perfect. You notice his Adam's apple bob up and down, and he’s shockingly quiet, just looking at you.

Gojo Satoru, quiet.

“There,” your hands linger, your eyes darting up to his lips once more.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, and your eyes meet, the two of you at a loss for words in the quiet of the limo.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opens the door, exposing you both gratefully to some cool night air, and you get out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

loves i'm dying to hear what you think ahhhh! ofc i'll always love the original and keep that up but I'm excited for this <3

"Think you can just bat your lashes and I'll give you whatever you want? After the stunt you pulled?" Satoru hissed, slicing a glare at you above his rimless glasses. Those cutting blues were enough to pin you to desk alone.

He huffed, nudged the tips of his index and middle back against your slit and stroked in an agonisingly slow drag. "Not a chance. You weren't acting like my sweet girl so I won't treat you like one."

You could only chew on your lip. He was right. you weren't being his sweet girl earlier— in fact, you were being a bitch.

Every now and then you let this whole secret dating thing get to your head and forgot that it was indeed the nerd that you mocked on the daily who had you shaking for him every night. Forgot that it was that 'loser Satoru' who tongued on your clit till you grew teary.

Forgot it was that 'weird nerd' who held you down in his sheets and pummelled your poor pussy into his mattress until it creamed.

This morning, it seemed your memory slipped again. There you were in your shared physics class. Prattling on about the latest gossip with your group of sharks in stilettos. Completely ignoring the presence of your boyfriend who played his part of the script well. Sat in his spot and pretended his eyes weren't drifting to that skirt you were in like a magnet.

Your friend tapped your shoulder. Told you that the loser nerd was checking you out.

And maybe you panicked. Or maybe you really couldn't shake off that ugly bitch deep down. But you made a scene. Stole his book like you were fucking highschoolers. Mocked him in front of the entire class.

So yeah. You deserved every second of this torment. Of his long, pale fingers dragging the sticky heat beneath your panties, but never once peeling them away. Deserved his mouth sealed in a frown as it sucked on the fabric above your clit. Tonguing on the bud and suctioning his lips until you whimpered and tried to buck your hips into his face. Tried to beg.

"T-Toru I'm sorry— please. Please I-I won't do it again—" you croaked, fingers daring to slip into his fluffy white hair and rake through.

His free hand snatched your wrist, slamming it back to the desk.

"Don't."

He muffled. Rolling your clit on the flat of his tongue as he shot a glare at you over his glasses. "You don't fucking get to touch me right now. Just lay there and take it, brat."

The whimper died on your throat. Interrupted by a pitched yelp as his teeth teased your clit. Nipping faint enough to have you squirming back on his desk.

Strong hands caught your thrashes. Squeezing your thighs with a muffled grunt on your pussy as a warning. His teeth snatched your garter next— dragging the pitifully drenched fabric then shnapping! it back against your needy heat.

He didn't care for your jolts. Nor your whines. He hardly batted an eye at your needy calls of his name nor the sweet musk of your throbby pussy filling the room.

You knew that look in his eye. Knew that whenever Satoru got like this, it meant teary eyes, messy thighs and not a single orgasm. Maybe one, if you were lucky.

"You know, I never quite get why you act like this."

At last, a finger curled into the corner of your soaked panties. Pulling at the cotton and watching the sticky webs stretch as he hoisted it down your thighs. A pale brow arched as the filthy strings snapped back on your pussy. Made a muddle of your folds.

"Why you act like you aren't just a messy slut for me when no one's looking." His thumb, calloused from years of gripping pens, rubbed your swollen clit. Up, down, up, down— in an agonisingly slow sequence. As if he were counting your trembles and hitched breaths.

"Like you aren't just my pretty girl with an attitude problem."

Spit built on his soft lips then splattered on your clit. Hot and wet as he rubbed his saliva on the bud. Pupils dilating as he watched some of the bubbles trickle down to your fluttering slit.

His index and middle returned. They flattened on your clit and smoothed down the wetness to your leaky pussy. A huff fogged his glasses that had slipped down his nose. "Hold this bratty pussy open for me. Wanna fix her attitude."

Your breath thinned. But your fingers moved on instinct. Delving between your legs and and swiping your folds back in a v-shape. Your pink, manicured nails grazed your sensitive skin and inner thighs.

"Toru?" You called. Sweetening your voice to that honey you know he loved.

He shot you a look from his tilted head. Still sharp as ever, but to let you know he was listening.

"I. . ." jutting your lip in a pout, your fluttered your lashes. "I really am sorry, baby. Didn't mean to be such a brat."

Silence. Then a sigh. Deep and weary as his tousled hair shook with his head. "I know you're sorry, sweetheart." Those two fingers tapped your clit. Your fingers quivered. "But I'm not ready to forgive you. So just shut up and take it, kay?"

With the click of his tongue, his fingers swatted your glistening slit. Once. Twice. Three more times— until your thighs bucked uselessly in his hands and you struggled to hold yourself open for him.

All your begging died on your tongue. Your glossy lips pressed into a thin line. You tried— oh, you tried your hardest to be his good girl again. To not rock into his pussy spanks and not plea for his forgiveness. Satoru was many things. A patient man wasn't one of them.

The last thing you wanted was to be thrown over his lap while you're all needy and pulsing only to have your pretty little ass spanked red.

"There ya go," he muttered, looming his face into your cunt. His fingers flattened to deliver quick— sharp pats to your clit. The kind that had your thighs squirming and pussy drooling. "Look how she's leaking baby. Pretty pussy says she's soooo sorry."

His nose nudged into your slit. Then bumped your clit. His tongue laved a fat, long, slow stripe all the way up your slit. Before he pointed it to circle on your throbbing nub. Your fingers struggled to hold yourself open with how they quivered.

"Satoru—" you gasped. Caught a whine in your throat and flicked your head back. Your free hand slipped up your tight, buttoned-up white shirt. Feeling at your tit and flicking your thumb over the perked peak. "She is. She is. So so sorry."

"For what?"

Thwack! This smack came harder. Made your swollen pussy stutter and your hips almost chase his hand. Instead, you chewed on your lip and watched as his brow raised higher.

His thumb slotted against your clit. Circling on it in a rough attempt to rub out your answer. "C'mon slutty girl. Sorry for what?"

"For— being mean," you croaked. Throat bobbing as tears glossed your eyes. "For being mean. For being a bitch. 'm sorry toru— please."

Another wet, filthy spank. Then another— and another— until your fingers below were trembling and uselessly trying to hold yourself open to the onslaught of your boyfriend's cruel hand. You couldn't take it anymore. Didn't care if he threw you over his knee. You started bucking. So desperate to catch your clit on the callouses of his palm and grind yourself to a pitiful orgasm.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/pixopix. art cred: @/yinartss (ig)