Ok But What If Like. Werewolves Transform Under The Full Moon But Theres Just This One And By Day Hes

The first thing Bakugo wants after a life or death fight with a villain is to fuck you.

Bakugo denies all medical attention, ignores his colleagues pleas to calm down as he barrels off the battlefield in a blind fury. He storms through the front door, still covered in freshly spilled blood and practically growling like a wounded animal while his eyes search for you in your shared home.

You rush downstairs at the sound, your eyes widening in shock when you approach him. “Katsuki? What the h—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, shoving you up against the wall in a desperate attempt to get closer to you. Dirtied gloves paw at your clothes, the salty metallic taste of blood and sweat coating your tongue from his split lip as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. It’s as if Bakugo’s body is moving on its own, his mind trapped in a haze of unknown need.

“Need you,” he groans while sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, one of his hands threading into your hair and holding the back of your head. “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Kats—”

You try to pull back, to ask him what’s going on, but he keeps cutting you off with harsher kisses and bites to your neck. Bakugo pants against your pulse point, licking the skin as his voice becomes uncharacteristically soft. “Please…”

That’s when you notice the tremble in his touch, how the hand on your waist is squeezing tight enough to leave a bruise. It clicks — this isn’t just about sex and he won’t say it, can’t say it. He needs you. Needs you to distract him, hold him and get the adrenaline out of his body, to not let the fear of almost losing you drown him.

One of your hands tangles in his hair as you kiss down his neck, your teeth sinking into the spot that makes his knees buckle. Bakugo audibly moans, a low and guttural sound that only you know how to pull out of him. You lead him to the couch in the living room, ripping off his hero suit piece by piece to give him exactly what he wants.

“Thank you” are the only two words that roll off his tongue repeatedly like a prayer, spliced between voracious moans as you ride him harder than ever before. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

lmao okay... filipina! gf having a petty shouting match with bf! katsuki and cussing each other out in each other's languages.

the argument started over something stupid—so stupid you couldn't even remember how it began. but now? now, you were pissed.

"hoy, ikaw! akala mo porket pogi ka kaya mo kong bastusin?! (hey, you! do you think that just because you're hot that means you can insult me?!)" you snapped, jabbing a finger into his chest.

katsuki, never one to back down, fired right back in japanese. "kimi wa boku o okora seru nda yo, wakarudaro? itsumo sono kawaii kao de ki o magirawasu nda! (you piss me off, you know that? always distracting me with that pretty fucking face!)"

you weren’t even sure if he fully understood what you were saying, and you definitely weren’t catching all his rapid-fire japanese insults, but that didn’t stop either of you from cussing (possibly flirting) each other out in your own languages.

"para kang tangang sakit sa ulo na may abs! kung hindi ka lang gwapo, sinuntok na sana kita! (youre like a stupid headache with abs! if you weren’t so hot, i’d have punched you by now!)"

"ore wa hontōni mendōna sonzaida! demo... kuso, ore wa boku ga imamade deatta naka de mottomo mendōna sonzaida! (you’re such a pain in my ass! but... fuck, you’re the prettiest pain in the ass i’ve ever had!)"

neither of you were backing down. your voices clashed like thunder, both of you stubborn as hell, and honestly? if anyone walked in, they’d think you hated each other.

"oi.-kun ga utsukushīkara to itte, kimi ga itte iru koto o watashi ga rikai dekiru wakede wa nai yo.' (hey. just because youre beautiful, it doesn't mean i understand a fucking word youre saying.)" his jaw clenched, eyes blazing.

"ulol! (idiot!)" you shot back, arms flailing in frustration. "hindi kita maintindihan pero alam kong gago ka! pogi o hindi! (i don't understand you but i know you're an ass! handsome or not!)"

katsuki scoffed, stepping in closer, his voice dropping into something lower, more dangerous. "kuso, `chikatte iukedo, kimi ga nani o itte mo mechakucha shitsureina ndaroukedo, demo, kimi ga boku ni donatte iru toki no kuchibiru wa ī kanjida yo.' (fuck, i swear, whatever the fuck you’re saying is probably rude as hell, but damn, your lips look good when you’re yelling at me.)"

oh, hell no. (whatever the hell that meant.)

"ay, gago, ano sinabi mo?! pakyu! bahala ka dyan! maghanap ka ng ibang aawayin mo! ayoko na sa'yo—! (oh, you asshole, what did you say?! fuck you! suit yourself! find someone else to fight with! i don't want you anymore—!)"

before you could finish, his hands were on you—hot, firm, relentless, gripping your waist and yanking you forward.

katsuki grabbed you, his lips slamming onto yours with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs. you barely had time to react before your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling just as fiercely.

the kiss was all heat, teeth, and frustration—his tongue sliding against yours in a battle neither of you wanted to lose. the argument was already forgotten, who the hell cared what you were fighting about when this was so much better?

you tugged at his shirt, fisting the fabric, pouring all your irritation and want into the way your lips moved against his, biting on his bottom lip. he groaned, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling, tilting your head just the way he wanted.

you gasped into his mouth, and he used that opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue pressing against yours like he was still trying to win.

it was messy. angry. hot.

his hands roamed, gripping, kneading, staking his claim as if trying to prove his point without words. your back hit the nearest surface—maybe the wall, maybe the counter, you didn’t care—and katsuki pressed into you, lips never leaving yours. his breath was ragged, matching yours, and when you nipped at his bottom lip, he growled, gripping your thigh and hoisting you up.

"still mad?" he murmured against your mouth, voice low and rough as you wrapped your legs around him.

you tugged at his hair, making him hiss. “oh, now you wanna use your mouth for something other than yelling at me?”

he scoffed, fingers digging into your waist. “tch. big talk for someone who was just moaning in two languages.”

you scoffed, shoving at his chest (not that it did anything, because he was built like a damn wall). “excuse me?”

he grinned, lips brushing against yours. “nah, you’re not excused.”

and then he used his mouth the other way he knew how—by kissing you stupid.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ used google translate for katsuki unfortunately🤕 lmk if any of the translations are wrong, and i hope you guys enjoyed!! inspired by @ch3rryjampi3's comment in my recent filo fic💜💜

GOOD GRACES

You meet Gojo at a party and tell him he needs to prove his worth before you let him take you out.

Or, the four times Gojo tries to date you and the one time you try to date him.

The dress you’re wearing is impossibly tight against your figure, and this night is impossibly boring. You’re a good friend. A great friend, even. To put yourself in a room with all these stuffy, high society people. You think you deserve some kind of award for it. 

When Utahime asked you to join her, there was no contest. Of course you’d say yes to your best friend, no matter how heinous her request was. She’d been unable to find any plus one and she knew half the people at this event would turn their noses up at the fact she’d shown up alone. That was enough to deter you but the desperate look on her face had you accepting.

That’s why you were here, sitting on a table on your own while she mingled with others. You think it might be some alumni event from the rich high school she went to. Jujutsu Tech? You remember she showed you the tuition her parents used to pay once and you nearly passed out. You’re sure that's an amount of money you’d probably never see in your life. God, you hate the rich.

At least some of her peers were hot. You had your eyes on the blonde wearing blue and cream. Definitely boyfriend material. You tug your dress up your body. Utahime was definitely smaller than you, and the expensive dress she’d lent you was much more revealing on your body than it was hers. You wonder what all the high class teachers thought of your cleavage popping out of your dress. You wonder what blue suit thought about your cleavage sticking out of your dress.

“You look like you’re having fun.” A voice teases.

“I’m glad somebody’s fooled.” You reply, looking up at the man standing in front of you.

He’s tall. That’s the first thing you notice about him. You’re sitting down but you’re sure even if you stood he’d still be towering over you, long limbs that cross over a broad chest. You can see the outline of muscle through the black button up he’s wearing, and the thickness of his thighs that stretch his black slacks. And his hair is white. Dusting over his eyes that are impossibly blue, crinkled with amusement as he looks down at you.

You hold a hand out. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

His brows furrow slightly at your hand. But he still grabs it and his palm is warm as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I don’t think I recognise you. You were in the class of 2018?” He tilts his head slightly as he asks the question.

“Oh, God no. I’m here as a plus one.” You shake your head.

“You don’t sound too happy about that.” He grins, taking the seat beside you. You turn a bit so that you're slightly facing him, rolling your eyes.

“Of course I’m not happy about it. This place is way too prim and proper for me.” You sigh.

Gojo laughs. “What, high society not doing it for you?”

“Hell no. It’s like every conversation I’ve had is just a competition of who can brag about their wealth more. I’ve taken to just lying about it all.”

“Lying?”

“Yeah. You have two yachts, then I have three. You have one million, I have two. I can go all day.” Gojo laughs again and it makes you grin.

“Well, Y/N. You’re a good addition to these things. I hate them too. Everyone’s always all over me, you know. I was valedictorian, the teachers love parading me around to the current students.” 

The very unsuccessful attempt at subtle bragging is not lost on you. Something about him, the attractiveness and cockiness rang familiar.

“Hm. You’re Gojo, right?”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “How did you know?”

“Oh, Utahime told me about you. Full of himself and tall, amongst other things. I think you fit the bill.” You pat his shoulder affectionately and he pouts.

“I can’t believe she’s been chatting shit about me. I’m a great guy.”

“It’s never the great guys who need to say they’re great guys, my friend.”

He pouts again and you giggle. You lean back, taking another sip of your champagne. You don’t notice the pair of blue eyes intently watching you do it.

“God, there’s a box of chocolate and a movie marathon waiting for me at home. I just need to power through this.”

“Oh yeah? What are you watching?” 

“Romcoms. Tooth rotting romcoms.” 

“Oh I love romcoms. You know, a lot of women say I’m just like-“

“I’m going to stop you right here.” You hold up a hand in his face and Gojo huffs, reaching up to grab it and move it.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m sure I can guess and none of it makes you look good.”

He’s still pouting and also still holding you. Long, slender fingers that basically engulf your own hand, they’re that much bigger than yours. You wonder what else-

Okay. Maybe no more champagne for you. You tug your hand out his grasp, trying to play off the blush that dusts your cheeks.

“If you wanted to hold my hand so badly you could just say, Gojo.” 

“I want to hold your hand.”

You fluster. “Shush. What’s your favourite romcom?”

“You just told me to ask. And.” He pauses, thinking. “27 dresses.”

You grin, now turning to face him completely. “I love that movie!”

“Me too!” 

“Wow. I thought you were just lying to get into my pants. But you’ve got good taste.”

“Yeah, I definitely have good taste.” And he looks at you in that intense way again that makes you laugh nervously.

“So what do you do, Gojo?” You clear your throat, changing your mind and downing the rest of your champagne. You could do with the confidence.

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Oh, cool. Like in suits.” 

Gojo snorts a laugh. “Yes, like in suits. Though I think I’m much more attractive than that Harvey guy.”

It’s your turn to laugh. He pouts again. “What, you don’t agree?”

“I don’t know. I’ve not actually watched the show.”

“Take my word for it. I am much more attractive than him. I’m taller, too.”

“What, that’s important to attractiveness?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks reddening again. You do know what they say and some part of you knows Gojo is probably not only blessed in the wealth department. 

Jesus. You really need to stop drinking so much at these things. You glance at the empty glasses near you and you pretend they don’t exist.

“Gross.”

Gojo grins again, flashing those pearly white teeth.  

“So, are you-“

“Gojo, fuck off.” 

Utahime’s voice is whispered as she speaks but Gojo’s face twists like he’s been yelled at. He stands and tries to pull her into a hug but she shoves him away.

“Utahime! It’s been so long, you grew up so beautiful!”

“Shove your compliments up your ass, Gojo. Come on, Y/N, we’re leaving.”

You frown slightly, glancing at Gojo who also looks slightly dejected. But Utahime warned you of what he’s like. And while all the flirting and everything was nice you’re sure it’s all just a ploy to fuck you and leave. You were not going to be another woman under his belt. That poor girl that he fucked once.

But he’s so hot. That button up is hugging his biceps so deliciously you have to physically pull your eyes away.

“It was nice speaking to you, Gojo.” His eyes widen as you go to leave.

“Wait, can I get your number?” He asks quickly.

“No, you can’t get her number. I’m not letting you fuck her over.” Utahime snaps, pulling you up on your feet.  

For the first time a twinge of irritation crosses Gojos features. “Come on, Utahime, don’t be like that. I’m not-“

“I don’t care, she’s not interested. It was not nice seeing you.” She snarls, dragging you away. 

You always commend Utahime on her strong character but you sort of wish she’d just shut up. You give one more wave to Gojo, and you sigh at the sight of him standing there, because you know it's the last time you’ll ever see him.

——————-

It turns out you will see Gojo again. Or more accurately, his wealth. 

You walk into your office the next day to see a very expensive looking bouquet on your desk. Blues and whites, all different types of flowers that bend and twist over each other. You slip off the card that’s attached to the bouquet and smile slightly at the very bad drawing of Gojo imprinted on the front. And a phone number scribbled underneath. A quick google search tells you these flowers cost a few hundred pounds. You’re so shocked by the sight of the price you don’t hear Utahime slide up beside you. You do hear her annoyed sigh.

“Let me guess. Gojo?”

You slip your phone in your pocket. “Might not be. I could have a secret boyfriend.”

“Yeah right. Like you can keep a secret for longer than a second.” She grabs the card out of your hand.

“Tell me you’re not going to message him.”

“I think I might. Thank him for the flowers, you know?”

Utahime brows furrow at your sly smile. “Whatever. I can’t stop you. You’re a grown woman. It’s your funeral.” 

She raises her hands in surrender and passes you the card again. You pocket it and decide you’ll message him after work. You spend the rest of your shift staring at the flowers, wondering when he’d had the time to even get them here. Had he been thinking about you as much as you had him? Because you had been, last night, as you were falling asleep. Thinking about his height, those slender fingers, that grin. You realised it had been a bit too long since you’d been with a man.

You decide to text him on your way home. You’re squeezed on the train between an old man and a woman you think is about to fall asleep on you.

You: thank you for the flowers mr gojo 

Gojo: 😁😁 Did you love them so much

You: I did

You: thought they take up a lot of room in my office

You: how much did you spend on them 😭

Gojo: Only the best for you baby

Gojo: And price is no issue 

Gojo: You deserve them

Gojo: Surprised you’re even messaging me

Gojo: Utahime finally lay off?

You quickly realise that Gojo is not against double texting. Or quadruple texting, it seems.

You: I told her to fuck off >:)

You: jk

You: I told her I’m a big girl who knows what she’s doing

You: especially with guys like you

Gojo: 🤔 Guys like me!?

Gojo: Incredibly handsome and rich and talented and funny and smart guys??

You: modest too..

You: no, I mean guys who fuck girls and then expect them to leave right after

Gojo: If EYE fucked you you wouldn’t be able to leave

Gojo: But I’m not like that 🙁🙁 what has Utahime been telling you about me

You: im gonna ignore that first message for ur own good 

You: and she told me enough 😒

Gojo: Whats enough 

You: what’s your body count first

Gojo: … 😅

Gojo: Okay not fair I used to be a slut when I was a teenager 

You: look i won’t say I’m not interested

You: ur hot and ur funny and u have good taste in movies

You: but I’m 24 😭 I’m not getting involved with someone who isn’t considering long term

Gojo: But I am considering long term

You: really?

Gojo: With you yeah

You: you prove that to me then

Gojo: 😫😫😫 HOW

You: YUCK don’t use that emoji 

Gojo: 😫😫 WHY

You: looks like ur in the throes of an orgasm

Gojo: LMAOOO

Gojo: I look much sexier when I orgasm thanks

You: okay luckily my stop is next so we can stop talking about your orgasms now

——-

The flowers become a regular thing. So does the texting. You let Gojo know after the third time of leaving them at your desk that this wasn’t proving he was serious about you. He tells you he knows, and that he just wants to spoil you. You pretend that it doesn't leave butterflies in your stomach. 

It’s been two weeks and you find yourself growing more and more attached to him. He messages you every morning and every night, during his breaks at work. He sends selfies too, with his three trainees, the smiley one with pink hair, the moody black haired one and the girl with a killer bob. Selfies of him in his suit for work, of him at the gym. You think those are definitely your favourite.

It’s weird that someone like Gojo is interested in someone like you. You’re sure there’s a thousand girls who are prettier and rich like him he’d get on with much better. You told him as much one late night, insecurities churning in your head, the early hours of the morning loosening your lips.

Gojo: Shut up don’t say that

Gojo:  I like you because ur funny and kind and ur so smart

Gojo: I could give two shits about how much money you have

Gojo: And you’re beautiful Y/N

Gojo: Why do you think I approached you in the first place?

Gojo: Once you finally say yes ur definitely wearing that dress again 😋

You: thank you Gojo <3

You: and that’s utahimes dress I had to give it back :/

Gojo: I’ll buy you ten like them

You’ve not actually seen Gojo since the party. But you couldn’t mistake the figure chatting to your receptionist as you leave for your lunch break as anyone else.

“Gojo?”

He looks up the second he hears your voice. And you think his eyes brighten a little when he sees you, and he bounds over. He stops in front of you, warm hands dropping on your shoulders.

“Hi, Y/N. I’m taking you to lunch.”

“I’m not going on a date with you, Gojo.” You cross your arms.

He smiles slightly, shaking his head. “Not as a date. As friends. We’re friends, right?” He smiles wider and you couldn’t say no to him if you tried.

You begrudgingly walk out, waving goodbye to Doris at the front desk. She winks at you and you shoo her away. Gojo ends up driving you to a cute little ramen shop not to far from your place. He orders something he insists you’ll love. He commends his choice again as the steaming bowls are placed in front of the two of you. Before you could call him too confident, you practically moan when you take the first bite.

“Oh my god, this is so good.” You speak through a mouthful of noodles and Gojo nods.

“I know! You’ve never been here before?”

“No! If I did I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

The two of you chat about work. Gojo tells you about his latest case, and you listen intently, only a little jealous of how fun it sounds.

“The most interesting thing that happens at my work is someone eating someone else’s lunch.” You huff. “Or maybe the huge bouquets of flowers that keep showing up at my desk.” 

Gojo leans forward slightly at the sight of your teasing smile. The table the two of you are on is small enough that when he does so his legs press against yours. You sit up a bit.

“Glad I can bring some entertainment to your office.”

“You’re giving me way too much. I had to give one of the bouquets to my mum,  I had no space at my place. And she’s asking questions.”

“Oh yeah? Who’d you tell her they were from?”

“My stalker.”

Gojo splutters. “Your stalker? That’s not fair!”

You laugh. “Why not!”

“Well, that's ruined my first impression. I need my in-laws to like me.”

You roll your eyes. “What happened to this just being lunch?”

Gojo hums. “I can’t be prepared for the future? Who knows what it holds?”

“Shut it you.” You dunk your chopsticks into your bowl

He just looks at you. You glance up at him. You think catching him in the act will make him stop, but he doesn’t. Just keeps staring at you.

“You alright there?”

“You look really pretty today.”

Your face heats and you swallow. “Thanks.”

“This blouse.” He leans forward, fingers curling into the collar of your button up. He’s about one inch away from touching your skin and you want him to, want him to reach and trace his fingers down your chest.

“Looks good on you.”

You nod. Eyes transfixed on his. “T-Thanks. Yeah. Thanks.” 

He grins once again, something glinting in his eyes.

————

A week later, the office postman drops something at your desk. An envelope with messy handwriting you can immediately recognise as Gojo’s. 

You rip the envelope open and two slips of paper fall out. You quickly deduce that their tickets. Your eyes skim over them quickly. Your mouth drops open when you read the loopy calligraphy on them and you grab your phone, immediately dialling Gojo’s number.

“Gojo! You didn’t!” 

“Wait, what did I do?” His voice comes confused down the other line.

“The tickets! To the outdoor movie night thing at the park! They were sold out, how did you get them?”

“Oh, that! Yeah, I know someone who works there that owes me a favour.” You can almost hear the smug tone in his voice but you don’t care.

Because the truth is you really wanted to go. Those outdoor movie parks. You always loved the picnic blankets all spread across a field, watching the sunset behind the movie screen. And not only was this one in the prettiest park in your town, but it was also showing one of your favourite movies ever. You usually went every year and you’d tried to buy tickets but you missed the cut off and they’d all been taken. You tried not to dwell too much in your disappointment, but this was too much.

“God, Gojo, thank you. How’d you even know I wanted to go?” 

“You mentioned it like. A week or two ago? When I called you during my lunch break, remember?”

You barely did, so you have no idea how he did. You say as much to him and he laughs.

“I don’t know either. It’s not important. I hope you enjoy them. 

He pauses suddenly.

“Also, this isn’t me like- asking you out subtly. They’re yours, you take who you want.” 

God. Was Utahime sure this is the same Gojo she had gone to school with? Bceuase the man she’d described was nothing like the one you were on the phone with.

“Shut up, I’m taking you, obviously.”

“You really don’t need to.”

“I know. I want to.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll pick you up after work, then?”

“I finish at five.”

“I’ll see you then.” 

——

 It’s been a month and Gojo doesn’t know what to do.

He hates it. Never in his life has he been this enamoured with anyone. It’s usually the other way around and usually he’s the one rejecting unwanted advances. As vain as it sounds, Gojo doesn’t think he’s ever met a woman who’s taken longer than a few days to fall for him. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much more. You respect yourself too much to fall for the stuff his usual girls do. 

Gojo will be honest. When he approached you at the party, his one goal in mind was to get you in bed. You just looked so good. Tight dress clinging around your curves, those tits almost spilling out. The expanse of your legs, paired with those heels. God, he’s only human. How could he not come over to you?

But then he’d actually spoken to you. And you were funny, and witty, and he kind of wanted to introduce you to his mother instead of just fuck you. And then Utahime had to ruin it all before he even had a chance. 

So Gojo’s been trying so hard to win you over. Done everything he can think of. And it’s worse now, because the more he tries to win you over, the more he gets to know you, and the more he wants you. Not just physically but in every way of the word. He wants to take you out on dates, and wants to introduce you to Geto and Nanami. Buy you necklaces and bracelets that cost half his paycheck, introduce you to his family.

And most of all, though, he wants to spread you open against his bedsheets. Kiss his way down your neck, your chest. Make you whine underneath him, come undone under his hands.

That’s all minor details. Patience is what Gojo needs and what he definitely doesn’t have any when it comes to you.

He walks into his office, cursing the wasted good weather as he signs in. He waves at the receptionist Ijichi, a cheery, starry-eyed man a few years younger than him. Before he can reach his office he sees Yuji and Nobara standing in front of the door, giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Megumi is standing off to the side. He looks uninterested but Gojo can tell by the way he’s slightly leaning towards them he’s listening too.

“Is there a reason you young trainees are giggling in front of my office?” Gojo asks.

He feels oddly like their teacher, even though new hires are sort of everyone’s responsibility. They always only come to him. Megumi is probably his favourite but he’ll never tell them that.

Yuji giggles again. “You didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend, Gojo.” 

Gojo’s brows furrow in confusion. He tilts his head to the side. “Apparently I didn’t tell myself either. What are you talking about?”

Nobara joins him, grinning. “Yeah, is she hot? I bet she is, you’re too vain to date someone ugly.” She shakes her head scathingly and Gojo splutters.

“Both of you shut up. Go do some work.” He shoos them away and they stalk off.

Gojo mumbles some choice words under his breath. He walks in and instead of seeing his messily kept desk he’s met with a bouquet of flowers on his desk. They’re definitely smaller than any of the ones he got you, but they’re pretty and pink. He plucks the card off the side and scoffs at the clumsily drawn person he’s guessing is supposed to be you. 

Gojo: Blushing so hard in the office rn 🙈

Soon to be gf: do you love them :D

Gojo: They’re very pink

Soon to be gf: does that hurt ur masculinity :(

Gojo: Of course not

Gojo: I love them😆

‘I love you’ is what Gojo wants to say but he holds his tongue. That’s always his issue. Gojo doesn’t love a lot but when he does, he loves hard. Loves so much that he thinks it might kill him, swallow him whole. 

He spends the first few hours of his shift idly working, eyes darting to the flowers that sit pretty on his desk. The trainees keep trying to find stupid excuses to walk in so they can try and see who they’re from, but Gojo just waves them off every time. He decides to go out for his lunch break, because the sickly sweet smell of the flowers is only reminding him of everything he doesn’t have.

And then he sees you chatting with Ijichi at the entrance and he remembers what this is all for. Your face lights up when you see him, grinning cheekily.

“Did you like your flowers, Mr Gojo?” 

“I did indeed.”

You rest your head on your hand, leaning against the desk. You’re wearing a summer dress, something blue and patterned that clings to your chest and torso and flits around your lower half. The skirt rides up your thighs as you lean forward to whisper something to Ijichi and he curses under his breath. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo walks until he’s right in front of you. 

You look up, something mysterious in your face.“I’m taking you out for lunch.”

Gojo tilts his head. “You’re taking me out? What's the occasion?”

“Just felt like it. Come on.”

Gojo follows obediently as you grab his arm, linking yours in it to walk him out the building. You chatter about something or the other. He can’t really focus because the sun is shining off your skin and your smiling and he just wants to reach over and touch you.

“Okay, we’re here!”

You pull Gojo into a bakery. There’s cakes and cupcakes and pies all lined up in glass cases, and the other half of the shop is filled with sandwiches and savoury treats. Gojo is practically drooling as he reads the menu.

“What- Why are we here?” He asks, eyes still trailing over the long expanse of desserts to choose from.

“I know you like your sweets so I looked around for a good bakery and this one was right here, right next to your work! So I thought I’d take you here so I could-“

You pause. “Yeah.”

“So you could what?”

“No matter. Now go pick something.”

You end up taking the desserts to go after the ten minutes it takes for him to decide what he wants. You lead Gojo through some pathways he’s never been down before. He asks you if you plan on murdering him and you roll your eyes. Doesn’t deny it though. 

The end result is not his murder location, but a cute park, with ducks and a pond. They sit on a rusty bench dedicated to someone gone, and eat their desserts. You scrunch your nose at the amount of sweets he can eat in one sitting. The two of you talk about everything and anything, until you start looking nervous. 

“You okay? You’ve gotten all fidgety.”

“Mhm. I’m okay. Just nervous.”

Gojo is confused. Nervous about what? About him? 

“What’s there to be nervous about?”

There’s a soft breeze blowing wisps of your hair into your face. It's only twelve o clock so the sun shines brightly above the two of you. The park is pretty empty, though, the occasional dogwalker or old man idly walking by. You bite your lip, scratching at your cheek.

“I just don’t know how I’m going to ask you out.”

Oh. 

Your cheeks flush red almost the same second as the words leave your mouth.

“Shit. Fuck, I didn’t mean- Oh god, I’ve ruined it.” You groan, covering your face with your hands. 

Gojo breathes a laugh. “What- What's going on?”

You shake your head, still hiding in your hands. “God, I just. I like you, I realised. Really like you. And I think that- that I want to be with you. So I thought about asking you out and I was going to do all the things you did for me, like the flowers and everything. But I’ve fucked it.”

You look up at him and he looks at the crease between your eyebrows, the small pout on your lips. And it seems the only thing he can do is reach forward and kiss you. His hands reach up and curve under your jaw, fingers toying with the hairs on the back of your neck. You make a little whine as he licks into your mouth and it makes him press closer. He’s sure you can probably feel the arousal on him, and he knows that as he lets his hands slip to the small of your back and pull you onto his lap.

“So beautiful, you know that? Been dreaming about this.” He groans, kissing your jaw, down your neck.

He licks at your pulse and you moan slightly and he can feel the heat on your face as you cards a hand through his hair. You pull him back, and it’s his turn to moan at the pain in his scalp mixed with the delicious pressure of you sitting in his lap.

“Gojo, we- we’re in public.” You laugh.

He leans forward, dropping his forehead on yours.

“I don’t care. I’ve been waiting for you for a month, you temptress.” He sighs dramatically.

“Ask me out first at least, gosh.”

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I hope you all enjoyedddd! i just randomly had the idea for this and i hope you all like it. also i really wanna write smut but i also cringe out so much?? so one day just expect at the end of one of these oneshots y/n getting dicked down!

as always asks are open, so plz feel free to leave me some suggestions!

Dan and Phil art is here 

dnp tipping this waitress $50 makes me soft because like,, thats honestly such a good deed to do, like honestly <3

alexander mcqueen models @amazingphil @danielhowell

reblogs are appreciated, thank you twitter | redbubble

i’m sick

you’re unsure how he can look at you like this and not feel the same as you.

bodies bare, clothes scattered around his bedroom. lips plump and dry from being kissed so many times. you both lay on top of the covers, wrapped so tight in each others arms, his fingers always sneaking to link with yours. you keep your head on his bicep, the perfect spot to stare up into his eyes and guess what he’s thinking.

or really to wonder how he can stare at you with his thick stone walls down, his lips slightly parted like he will duck down for a kiss at any time, his eyes slightly drooped from his orgasm a few minutes ago. his arms are looped around your back, pressing you with no air between and you wonder perhaps the reason you’re overanalysing everything is to commit it all to memory. soon enough you’re going to be in the uber back to your home and he’s not going to be yours again. just a contact in your phone that maybe you text a little too much and although you’ve been seeing this man for months, you’re still unsure what he wants. and you’re too scared to ask incase it’s not what you want to hear.

he presses a kiss to your cheek, it’s so innocent it makes you laugh so he presses another, then another just so you get louder and as he pulls away you first think why, why why don’t you want me? how can you do this and not want me? then you wonder if he’s kissed all the makeup off your face.

a thick finger traces your spine as he lays on his back, bringing your body with his like there’s no choice that if he’s moving, you are too. another comfortable position, your thigh across his legs, a perfect position for you to sink your teeth into his pecs. he begins to talk about himself. often, you both drift to childhood. wonder if you’d be friends, in the same classes. if you can still see you at fifteen inside you now and staring at him, you know your answer is yes. the deep longing, yearning to be liked by a pretty boy still burns inside you now, in fact you think you hear her scratching the walls for you to beg him to tell you everything he has ever thought of you. but you don’t since you’re older now. you just nod and reply how you miss her.

you share a tidbit about your family, a follow up part from what you told him about through text. your father randomly bought cats and he asks why don’t you go visit them. he stares at your lips when he asks before flicking up to your eyes to read your expression. there’s still a few things he doesn’t know about you which is okay. you’d let him in if he let you. you know later your friend will tell you how can you share your body with somebody and be to scared to share your mind but she doesn’t get it and it feels like you’re the only person to go through this age old, what are we? do you want something serious? i think i like you more than you like me.

it’s time to go home because he has work early tomorrow and then some athletic class in the evening. it reminds you that you need to keep busy too, because clearly he doesn’t spend every waking hour thinking about you like you do about him. you’re pulling your clothes back on, thinking about getting into crochet while he lays in bed and stares at the bending of your limbs. you catch him and frown, so he says you’re beautiful. truthfully you believe him, in some capacity you know he thinks you’re not ugly. or maybe that’s stupid, you know he thinks you’re pretty. but you can’t accept it wholly because if he thinks you’re oh so beautiful, staring like you’re a piece of art, why doesn’t he want you? why isn’t he begging you keep you in his bed, willing to be late tomorrow because even though you wake up on time, you spent way too long kissing?

so you just shake your head, foregoing a thank you to scan the way he shifts around to pull on his underwear. he doesn’t ask why you stare, it feels as if he always knows what you’re thinking but he never mentions it. he asks if you’ve ordered your uber yet and you’re unsure if he’s simply just asking or he’s now kicking you out his house. if you knew he wanted you, a label on what you are, you think moments like these would be easier. then you know he’d want you to come back as soon as. you make another mental note after starting crochet to distance yourself from him. let’s see how long that will last.

he kisses you goodbye once the car is outside at 3:17am and your feet are shoved in your shoes. you rest your hand on his cheek during the kiss, pressing your lips to his knowing the next time you do this you’ll probably still be in the same spot. confused and out of control.

when you finally step out his front door he tells you to text him when you’re home. you reply that he will be asleep and you ignore how he says “so?”

once you climb into your uber, not turning around to check if he’s still at the door because you know he won’t be, you think about crying. you have before in an uber so that won’t be anything new. instead you sit, thinking about him and the god awful radio station the drivers put on.

when you’re finally home, pyjamas on and climbing into bed, you get a text.

him: Home?

you: yes

finger guns 🌻