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BAM: Empty Beds

in which king gojo satoru returns from a diplomatic mission to find his bed empty, and has qualms with it

gojo satoru x fem!reader

word count: 3k genre: kinda hurt/comfort but mostly fluff, royal au, childhood friends to lovers type: one-shot reader: fem (she/her pronouns, fem terms, fem clothing including dresses) warnings: gojo picks up the reader, the end is a little bit intense emotionally but not super bad the reader just has intimacy issues and gojo confronts her abt it

usurper!gojo tag || masterlist

“embrace me,” he orders, muffled against your throat. it’s sullen, demanding, and you make no move to comply.

your husband whines wordlessly at you—it’s that noise which calms the tumultuous unease within you, an assurance that whatever mood he’d been in is quickly passing (or that your touch is so important he’ll cast aside any other thoughts in favor of pleading with you). he kisses up your throat, along your jaw, only to nose against your cheek like some affectionate cat. when he speaks it’s a beg; beseeching. “embrace me, wife.”

“talk to me, husband,” you retort. “your sulking is bad for my health. i was terrified.”

against your skin, his lips quirk into a teasing smile. “you’re adorable when you’re terrified.”

Someone has slipped into your room.

You’re asleep. You have been for hours, yet Satoru’s borderline paranoid insistence on you learning to defend yourself even while resting have led to a far less deep manner of slumber, and so you’re roused by the simple sound of the door opening and are made aware of this unwelcome visitor the moment they enter.

It’s all you can do to keep still, even out your breath. Your mind conjures thoughts of your guards slaughtered just beyond your door, your maids and your ladies-in-waiting massacred in your vast array of rooms meant to be a sanctuary, your king returning home from his diplomatic trip east to find your own body not even in your shared bed but in the lonely one occupying the queen’s bedchamber, yours in name but so rarely used.

You hear the figure’s footsteps approach you; they sound large, imposing, though you dare not open your eyes until the ornate dagger beneath your pillow is in hand and the possible assassin close enough that it can do you any good.

Your fingers find the heavy hilt, wrap around it securely just as the mattress beneath you dips with the weight of the trespasser. The motions are ingrained in your body from weeks of practice with your husband; you lash out, knife against the intruder’s throat before they can realize you’re not asleep, aiming to slash at the throat—but then you pause, thankful that you’d opened your eyes to see the face of your attacker before you spilled their blood.

“Satoru?”

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omfg yes yes and yes and also he pretends not to be sad realllyyyy really hard but sometimes its just too much and when yall first moved in together (!!) and he was crying in the bathroom hiding you went in and kissed his forehead (gojo melt moment) and held him and sat on the cold tile cradling his head and didnt say anything sarcastic or stupid or anything actually and just sat w him until he started talking to you abt his feelings

AND he was so embarrassed afterwards he tried to make it up to you and apologize for wasting your time and you smacked him in the face (!!!!) and scolded him for thinking that way and he felt SO LOVED 🥰

i feel like gojo would be in a ‘hot chocolate x green tea’ relationship.. his partner is very funny but more of the sarcastic humor and he pretends to be offended but he never actually is. his partner is his sense and is the person who tells him to stop eating so many sweets and maybe get in some protein, makes sure that he sleeps well and tells him not to take missions when he’s sleepy. and when they do all this he wants to cry because he never got that time when he was babies becs he had to grow up so quickly. his partner his this older , mature energy about them and it makes him feel so different- not like he has to impress anyone or have anybody’s back. because hes finally being taken care of with no strings attached, and it feels so good to him. OH LETS NOT FORGET HOW HE WILL BE THE KINDEST PERSON EVEN TO HIS PARTNER!! because they’ve done all this for him and he wants to now buy you the entire earth or say the most disgustingly kind things to you.

like if you so much as tell him to have a good day , to be careful and that you love him he stops dead in his tracks and goes. , “thank you !! i love you more!! you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!! byebye yn!!” while he’s walking out , and his voice is getting farther and farther but he’s also getting louder because you MUST know how special you are. the good you’ve done. how much of a good person you are. you HAVE TO. and don’t get me started when you’re sad. because when he’s sad he doesn’t know how to express it properly so he makes these atrocious jokes that leave you so concerned, but you still comfort him anyway, and he loves you so much for it. so he’ll hug you a tight but doesn’t know what to say at all😭. so he’s holding you and rocking you side to side and just saying , “i’m here, it’s alright, i’m right here,” because that’s all he really knows how to do but he PRAYS that it’s enough for you because he will literally wither away if it isn’t. gojo n his more emotionally smart, mature but still chaotic partner </33

aND LASTLY. everyone hates when you two are together because it’s so chaotic , you can’t even get out a sentence because every word you seem to say has some kind of dumb ass inside joke or something. like you once read a book that mentioned a baseball bat being heavy and he was so distraught . he kept going ,” heavy????? 😏 baseball bat???????? 😏” and now whenever anyone brings it up or it’s on tv you both topple over laughing. megumi is done cus he thought you were supposed to be the mature one 😕😕😕💔💔

a man down so bad for you he calls you ‘dumbass’ under his breath but plans out the next sixty years of his life with you in mind

in which: bakugou only shows his dimples around you

sfw, fluff, dialogue heavy, humour, this is a quick drabble i whipped up from an idea i created ages ago bc my 8k word bkg fic WON'T POST AGHHH!

"i love dimples, they're so cute!" mina squeals from beside you whilst you were hunched over the dorm's coffee table, finishing outstanding calculus questions you hadn't completed during class.

"me too," you absentmindedly murmur, reaching for your calculator to input a definite integral. "people say that they are kisses from angels, as if that isn't the cutest thing ever."

the pink-haired wails, "stop it! i wish i had dimples."

"if you try hard enough, then maybe," you snort before turning the page of your maths textbook. "i remember people would press pencils to their cheeks to make it appear. it would work for like five minutes."

"well, duh they're not gonna be permanent, i'm not that stupid."

"you always ask me what two plus five is."

"uncalled for, that's not the same!" mina slaps the back of your head, causing you to hold it whilst hissing in pain.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, shielding yourself in case she hits you again.

thankfully, mina is pacified again, returning her chin to her palm as she fiddles with her nails. she remains quiet for a few minutes, allowing you to concentrate on your work before she pipes up again. "jirou has cute dimples."

you hum in agreement. "yaomomo too, on both cheeks," you add.

"kaminari too!"

"and bakugou."

mina darts up, back now as straight as a pole as she gawks at you with the weirdest expression. did you grow two heads or something? what was so weird about bakugou having dimples?

"no he does not!" counters mina.

"he does! on his right cheek!" you even point to it for good measure. "surprised me too when i saw it for the first time but it's actually really prominent! i don't know how we never noticed it before."

"you're lying to me. bakugou katsuki could never have dimples, he's too evil for that."

"he's not that evil."

"are we talking to the same bakugou? he threatened to blow me up the other day."

you laugh at the memory, an action mina doesn't appreciate. "i was there for that. anyways. his dimple is just something he's born with, it's not ordained by personality, what's the big deal?"

"what part of bakugou being too evil to have something as pure as a dimple do you not understand?"

your homework now lays unfinished and forgotten as you begin having a quarrel about your classmate and the mystery surrounding a feature that was given to him from birth. the blond shows it quite often, how come mina's not seeing it?

she then begins pulling up numerous photos and selfies; none of which have the evidence of bakugou's dimples. you furrow your brows in confusion, swiping through and zooming in to no avail of finding any remnants of a dimple.

strange.

you know you can't be imagining this.

"yo mina, y/n!" a deep, raspy voice comes from the entrance of the common room. you both turn around in shock to see your fellow red-haired classmate approaching.

immediately, you turn off mina's photo to rid any evidence of your previous conversation. because wherever kirishima is, bakugou normally follows.

"i'm gonna kick your ass in mario kart!" comes an explosive voice from behind. there he was.

kirishima leans over the couch where mina was sitting on. "what are you both up to?"

"oh y/n and i were just chilling. why?"

"oh bakugou and i just wanted to play a round of mario kart, that's all! hope we're not bothering you."

you pipe up from where you were still trying to figure out maths equations, "mina talks my ear off whilst i'm trying to solve these questions. i think i'll be okay with you two."

before mina could slap the back of your head again, a shadow looms your textbook and tufts of blond hair appear in the corner of your eye.

"you got that wrong," bakugou says after not even two seconds of reading your equation.

"eyes off my book," you exclaim, about to cover the pages with your hands when the explosion-quirk user snatches it away from under you. he continues reading through it like it was some newspaper article.

he does this all with a proud smirk on his face. "question 2 wrong, question 7 wrong, question 15 wrong," rambles your classmate, ignoring the way you were demanding it back.

"i'm going to fuck you up. give me back my book."

"damn your handwriting is messy."

your punch his arm lightly. he laughs at the impact, uneffected. "yours is illegible!" you shout back, challenging him with a nasty glare.

mina and kirishima watch with amused expressions at the disputation occurring in front of them. however, the pink-haired feels the world stop for a moment when she notices something very interesting.

a dimple. on bakugou's right cheek. just like you said.

something she has never seen before.

then she notices the way he looks at you. despite teasing you and making fun of you, there's an undeniable look of fondness evident in his eyes, one that grows the more you threaten him with unspeakable acts of violence.

his smirk grows softer, becoming that of a lopsided grin when bakugou gives you your textbook, confessing that none of the questions were wrong and that he was just 'messin' around'.

as it turns out... bakugou katsuki does have dimples, but they only appear around you.

lol some Miami firefighter got suspended for texting this

HE’S NOTHING COMPARED TO ME miya atsumu 18+

cw: smut. female reader. no protection. oral. enemies to lovers. hate s^x! one bed trope :) repost!—2.3k+

[ masterlist ✮ suna + kuroo + osamu! ]

“get your dirty hands off me.”

he scoffed, pushing his nose into the back of your neck, “don’t act like ya don’t like it, princess.”

arguing with miya atsumu on a day you were anticipating relaxation was not part of your schedule—to be fair, arguing with him was never planned at all, but he always seemed to weasel his way into your plans.

whether it was when you cleaned the msby jerseys, fixed the net before their practice, any basic chore—he always had something to critique you on. ‘it’s too low’ or ‘you missed a spot’ slipping through his lips more times than you could count, and that stupid smile he wore at your frustration never drifted.

he was nothing but a perfectionist in the end, and as much as you wished he kept it to himself; he didn’t. it was second nature at this point to listen to his small complaints, and it pained you to know exactly why he was that way.

growing up with constant competition of a twin who always seemed to be a little better than you in everything was difficult to grow out of, and perhaps you had the smallest bit of a soft spot for him because of it.

and as you avoided most things involving atsumu, he couldn’t help but infiltrate your schedule each and every time. being forced to bunk with one of the most irritating men on the team would have caused a migraine if he hadn’t already created one hours prior. the small snickers from the other members that filled your ears as you pulled the short end of the stick made it even worse; a vein could nearly pop from your forehead due to frustration.

to make things even worse, atsumu was already mad at you to begin with. being forced to share a room with him made him feel a mixture of emotions. the way you flirted with his brother hours prior repeated in his head—and right in front of him too! it was as if he was wracking his brain to get an upper-hand, but the thought of losing to his brother once again plagued his mind.

he was mad; angry—all because of you—someone who raises his heartbeat in a way he despised. he normally wouldn’t feel so strong in a situation like this because as a perfectionist, he always gets what he wants.

until it came to you.

landing on the wrong foot, things were rocky and only got worse throughout time. the small compliments and helpful hand always seemed to turn for the worst—and then of course, you met his brother. one sentence and you were smitten, atsumu knew it. there was only one way to fix the issue, and he wasn’t going to miss the perfect chance.

“seriously miya,” his hand squeezed tight against your side as you attempted to pry it off, “what’s your endgame here?”

“’s cold.”

his words made little sense as his skin was much warmer than yours, the hot sensation of his breath sticking to the back of your neck as each second his body seemingly inched closer. wiggling your body against his, you tried once again to free yourself from his grasp. the comforter rubbing against the bed filled the silence as he continued to pull you close—refusing to let go.

flipping onto your back and still between his arms, a smug look filled his features as he peered down at you innocently, “it’s not ma’ fault theres only one bed.”

the low vibrations of his voice sent shivers down your spine as his hand let loose to rub against your thigh. the darkness of the room covering the tint against the tip of his ears, much to his liking.

pushing him away once against, he furrowed his eyebrows at your movements. though, his hand found home on you once again. and as if it was a game of cat and mouse, arms tangled between each other with a mixture of protests.

“could’ya just—“ his arm continued to fight against yours until he swiftly wrapped it around your waist, pulling you close against his chest, “just stop?”

“i fucking hate you,” your words shot into him, anger resurfacing within him once more as you continued throw insults, “havent you realize that?”

“ya don’t hate me.”

“i do.”

he pulled you closer, nose brushing against his without notice, “what do you want from me, miya?”

silence filled the room once again as you stayed tense in his arms, his eyes shaking slightly as if his brain was pacing for the perfect words—a perfect excuse—to use.

“i saw the way ya looked at ‘samu today.”

a dry laugh left your lips as your eyes rolled, jealousy was always the fort built in his words, his brother being the reoccurring victim of his insecurities, “all of this because of your fucking brother?”

“do ya like him?”

“more than you.”

you hated the way his furrowed eyebrows made your chest tighten. the unresolved feelings you’ve felt towards the man that held you close fighting against your urges to end the feud once and for all. the defeated look he showed was covered up quickly, the façade he wore was radiating determination, “then ya know what i want.”

“and what’s that?”

miya atsumu was tired of the game taking place in his heart, dipping down softly to place a sweet kiss against your lips. the lack of response concerned him until you pulled him back in hesitantly, asking for an answer with the way your arms wrapped around his neck, hands carding through his hair with a pull.

“to change that.”

rolling atop you and spreading your legs as if he’s done it a million times, his lips did not leave yours. the animalistic growl leaving his throat shocked you as he rubbed himself against your warmth in no time—like an animal in heat. the clothing separating you both becoming his worst enemy, that was, after you of course.

“all this because—“ your words were broken between his kisses, “your twin is better than you?”

“‘m better than him.”

“i bet he fucks better than you.”

“just another thing i’ll prove wrong,” his hands pulled your shirt off your body, taking his own in the process and relishing at the chance to touch your intimate skin against his, “he’s nothin’ compared to me.”

his hands roamed your body, unhooking the clasp on your back, mouth finding your tits instantly as your head fell back. the tugs in his hair had him grinding harder against you, the shaky breaths evident as your plump chest bobbed against his face.

sweat surfaced on his skin as the temperature of the room seemed to get higher, the grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise if he continues to hold you flushed against him.

his cocked jumped at the sound of his name leaving your lips in a moan, marks littering your chest as his mouth worked its was down to you center. the slur of your words were almost intoxicating as if his veins were filled with infinite adrenaline, salivating at the thought of how wet he’s made you with his tongue alone.

“may i, princess?” his hand rubbed against your folds through your shorts, the small whine leaving your lips as you arched your back was enough of an answer for him to discard of them immediately, leaving you completely bare under his touch.

“your brother would have had me cumming by now.”

he laughed lowly at your words to cover his irritation, tongue invading your slick as if he was feasting after weeks of starvation. the feeling of his groans worked perfectly against your clit as he circled, growing harder at your taste.

precum wet his sweats as he realized his imagination did you no justice, months of his secret yearning to be between your legs completely worth it as his digits found their way inside you, pushing you closer to that climax with the search of your sweet spot.

“is this it?” his voice was condescending as he watched your legs shake under the curl of his finger, navigating and memorizing every inch within you. you yelped slightly as he caressed you inside, a laugh leaving his lips, “there it is, baby.”

“i hate you.”

“sure ya do,” he began to suck harder against your bud, thighs clenching around his head as that climax approached, “cum for me, angel. ya got this.”

the approval was sexy; encouraging. the feeling of both his mouth and hand simultaneously fucking you was intense. it was delicate, yet rough. he wanted to give you the best experience—he wanted you to crawl back for more, “f-fuck! ‘tsumu!”

the gushing against his hands almost made him cum alone as his mouth cleaned the mess he created on your cunt. the stutter of his first name from your lips was hypnotizing as he began to test your limits on your sensitivity, licking your swollen bud and holding your body down with his arms.

the roll of your eyes—in a way that wasn’t annoyance—was ethereal. raised his body to roll his sweats to his knees, he couldn’t wait any longer. he looked prideful as your release painted his face sloppily, his hand slowly pumping his hard. coming down from your high, your eyes watched his as he smeared the cum on his tip a few times at the sight of your fucked-out look.

“what are you waiting for?”

“i am admirin’ the view.”

heat invaded your cheeks as his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. was it lust? similar, but not quite. it’s as if he had been anticipating this moment, eyes fucking you before he actually did.

pushing his tip against your clit, goosebumps caused his shoulders to jerk at the pleasure. your body twitched against him as if you were begging for him. slowly sliding his way inside you, his eyes clutching shut at the feeling of home within your walls. moving at a pace you didn’t agree with, he wanted to feel each detail of you before his inevitable corruption.

“please,” words finally slipped your mouth, his eyes opening at the pleads, “fuck me like you mean it, miya.”

his surname forced him to forget his needs as his hips snapped into you, stretching you against his length at an immeasurable speed as the slaps against your skin filled the room.

“back to miya, huh?”

the small smirk faded off his lips as your head fell back against the pillow, the raise of your legs to ease the position found their ways into his hands, his palms holding your knees back into the mattress to watch himself disappear inside of you thrust after thrust.

“yer so fucking pretty,” his words were broken, as if he was choking. all emotions leaving his face as he was too focused on the sight of you. the way your tits bounced, or the way your previous orgasm helped you fit him in perfectly, it was too delicious for him not to stop and take it in, “yer mine. all mine.”

“you wish.”

he changed his pace at your rejection, pulling out completely and slamming back into you to watch the curvature of your back pull up from the sheets. his arm wrapped under smoothly to repeat the motion. the way your jaw slacked open completely caused his demeanor to change back, an irritated smile filling his lips at your submissive state when you were the opposite moments prior.

“don’t lie to ya’self, baby,” the cock of his head would have made you roll your eyes if his actual cock wasn’t already forcing you to do so, “say yer mine.”

“over my dead body.”

“the way ya going limp on my dick right now, you kind of resemble one.” he joked, rubbing his thumb on the forming bruise he held you at minutes before.

“fuck,” you moaned your words, “fuck you.”

“that you are.”

his hair stuck to his forehead as looked up at the ceiling, relaxing his neck. hands loosening up on you as his body was slowly giving up at the orgasm he was pursuing. stars swarmed his vision as he picked up his pace slowly, yet sloppy.

he was cute, you admitted. as if he was lovestruck, even though you constantly pushed his egotistical words away for months on end. his breath shook while his legs gave out, pushing his chest into yours as his eyes latched onto you.

“so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, “so, so beautiful.“

“cum in me, ‘tsumu.”

widening his eyes at your command, his forehead pushed against yours as he continued to push through. an ungodly noise left his body, but was quickly muffled as you pulled him in for a kiss, lips clumsily working against each other as his thrust became weaker, your body clenching against his to milk every drop out of him as he filled you completely.

disconnecting his body from yours, he collapsed next to you. your inhales syncing up as he pulled you close like before, except this time you didn’t pull away.

sweat covered his body but you paid no mind as yours did too, the sexual pheromones turning into nothing but an unspoken love being acknowledged; one that was present for days on end but never talked of.

sleeping with atsumu invaded your schedule, and fucking him was the result. although you seemed relatively busy, you weren’t exactly against clearing up time to make the night become a habit. maybe having benefits with a perfectionist would end up being more beneficial to you in the end, but was it really benefits? or was it something more?

“get outta ya head,” he mumbled against your neck, “and just stay here with me.”

“ok, miya.”

“keep callin’ me that and i’ll make ya a miya,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly, “that way ya cant call me that anymore.”

“like… marriage?”

“how else, dummy.”

“i guess marrying your brother wouldn’t be that bad.”

his voice was grumpy as he pulled you closer to his chest, leaving a small kiss on your neck, “brother? i don’t got one.”

[ taglist ]

see writing is funny because sometimes you have to google things like “can the human body survive with every rib broken” and other times you have to google things like “is there an ikea in manhattan???”

NIGHT SHIFT 

a/n: (wc: 1k) gojo x reader, angst, i literally do not know what this is but i was listening to lucy dacus then this happened, not proofread we die like men

Contrary to popular belief, Satoru has never been good with his words. Not when it truly matters, at least.

A silver-tongue when it comes to all forms of mischief, he’s impressive at worming himself out of sticky situations. However, this is all the less impressive when you learn that his quick-witted remarks are usually what get him into those same situations. Oh, the double edged sword that is Gojo Satoru’s way with words.

Sometimes, he’s decent with them. He can convince you to stay in bed with him on those chilly winter mornings, turning five more minutes into twenty and a phone call into work feigning ill. He can persuade you to take a midnight trip to the bakery with him, indulging in sweets that would have your dentist going into cardiac arrest at the mere thought. He can recite the Jujutsu High handbook verbatim with ease, having memorized all of the rules he goes out of his way to ignore and diminish.

Always the loose-lipped loudmouth, it’s safe to say that he says a lot of things. 

On the contrary, one thing the great Gojo Satoru can’t say is I love you. 

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