Heartbeat Between Your Teeth

heartbeat between your teeth

Summary: A pleasant afternoon with your husband is rudely interrupted by a phone call.

or; Disco interrupts your beach day tryst with a very inconvenient call. Neither of you are particularly concerned with the panic of the auction house; you'd much rather indulge in pleasures of the flesh, and talk of your (seventh) spontaneous wedding.

wc: 3.8k~ (SICKENING)

cw: fem!reader (AFAB + she/her pronouns), light mentions of (canon typical) human trafficking and drugs, mentions of violence, spoilers for sabaody arc!, reader is morally grey, some violent imagery, mentions of food, smut, praise, feminine petnames ('good girl', etc), light dacryphilia, light come eating, fingering, p in v, overstim, low-key dumbification(?) reader has a thing for hands

AN: majority of the phonecall dialogue is pulled directly from doffy's cameo in saboady. also shoutout to nyla (@ofoceansandtombsanew) for helping me with doffy's spanish dialogue because my spanish is. less then stellar LMAO you're a real one girl <33 (english TL is in the end notes!)

heart divider is by the lovely @/enchanthings ! mdni banner by @/arminsumi !

The sea is in good spirits today, and so are you.

You watch the gentle lull of the tide against the shore. Doffy picked a good spot: your shared folding chair is tucked neatly beside a little glass table, whose attached umbrella spared you from the worst of the sun. The rest of the family is out of sight and mind; it’s quiet without their antics but you're both grateful for this rare moment of privacy. It would be a long while before another chance presented itself like this, so you pounced on it, ushering those who didn’t want to stay onboard the ship into town (and Doffy putting up a mini Birdcage just to be sure). And so you find yourself sprawled across your husband's lap, legs dangling over the arms of the chair, savoring every sun-soaked second alone like a rare delicacy.

The island you’ve stopped at is an easygoing one. A nice change of pace from the chaotic highs and lows of the Grand Line’s open waters. It’s something plucked straight from a postcard– lush palm trees dancing with the breeze, streaks of white clouds spilled against the blue of the sky like paint on a canvas. It’s warm, but pleasantly so; enough to soften the tension in your shoulders. A distant seagull cries out in what you decide is delight at the good weather.

Beneath you, Doffy shifts, his big hand stroking fondly at your thigh. He lingers at the border of your sundress but keeps his touch tame. "I hope that smile is my doing," he says, and you feel your grin widen at the pleasant rumble of his voice.

"Well, it is now," you giggle. "I was just thinking about how happy the birds are today."

He chuckles, dimples peeking out. "The birds?"

"The seagulls, specifically. I hear them singing about how nice the weather is."

"Ah, I see. I wasn’t aware that you spoke seagull.”

“It isn’t too difficult of a language. Most of it is screaming, really. Sometimes for food other times to warn one another of predators–or, like today, sometimes they just scream for joy.”

“I thought they were singing?’

“Screaming is singing in their culture.”

Doffy laughs, a sound like rolling thunder. “However did you become so acquainted with the particulars of seagull culture?”

“Trebol and Diamante,” you deadpan. “They aren’t seagulls but with the way they eat they may as well be.”

He hums. The conversation ebbs away with the tide. You nestle into the comforting silence and the crook of your husband’s shoulder. The buttons on his shirt are half-way undone and you take advantage of his exposed skin; Doffy’s heat is soothing, cozy in the way a fireplace is on a wintry night. You press your cheek to it with a contented sigh. He slides his palm up your leg and lets it settle at your hip. Your fingers decide they want to wander too, so they creep up his stomach to his chest, tracing lazy circles over his heart. Doffy gives you a squeeze in return and kisses the crown of your head.

“We still have some time before we need to report back in,” he murmurs into your hair. “Where would you like to go next?”

“Do we have to go anywhere at all? I’m more than content right here.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.” You press an open mouthed kiss to his throat. He gives you another squeeze. “I quite like this little island. They have a nice beach,” kiss, “and mangos,” kiss, “that one bookstore looked cute,” kiss, “and did you hear? Their honorary mayor is a cat named Señor Bigotes. Señor Bigotes, Doffy! Is that not the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard?”

Mischief pulls his lips into a smirk. “I can think of a few things actually–” and without warning, his hand shoots up to fondle your breast. A startled sound leaps from your throat, a breathy thing somewhere between a whine and a yelp. “ –that sound being one of them.”

You smack at his bicep. “Ass!”

Not a shred of remorse is reflected in his sunglasses. “Would you have me any other way?”

You sigh, not without fondness. “I suppose not. But, like I was saying, I’m just fine staying here.”

He nods. “Then it’s here we’ll stay,” he says, and that was that. Once Doffy made up his mind about something there was nothing anyone could do to change it.

“And since we’re staying…” gently, he tilts your head up by the chin. “Why don’t we get married?”

You just manage to hold back a laugh. Seven times Donquixote Doflamingo has asked you to marry him. All seven times you have said yes. And so you have had seven different weddings, on seven different islands, followed by seven different honeymoons. And yet each time he asks this question, it is with the same tenderness and sincerity as the first. As if he were cracking himself open and inviting you to hold his bloody, beating heart.

You press your palm flat over the space where it beats. A steady tune drums beneath his skin; your favorite song.

(Sometimes, you think that if he could, he would pull it from the cage of his ribs and give it to you. Sometimes, you wish you could do the same for him. Give yourself to him in whole.)

“You flatter me, Doffy,” you coo. “Really? You’d do it again?”

His mouth twitches down. “Are you doubting me?”

“No, never.”

“Then what’ll it be?”

You really do laugh this time–he sounds so serious. “Do you honestly have to ask? My answer will always be the same; you should know that by now!”

His grin is as brilliant as a diamond. “Is that a yes?”

Something soft and petaled unfurls between your ribs. You answer with a kiss– a proper one, this time. He tastes like sea salt and the syrupy sweet of mango juice. Groaning, he kisses back heatedly. He cradles your head to pull you in deeper, closer. You allow him to guide you in, shifting to straddle his waist.

You're flushed tight against each other, no room for air; it’s not enough. You want to pry open your chest cavity like an oyster and tuck him safe inside you, your treasure. You want him to eat your heart like a pomegranate so you can lick the red of your life from his chin. You want to meld to him like the fabled soulmates of Plato, four arms, four legs, two souls as one.

You want him to fuck you.

Thin cotton is the only barrier between your clothed sexes. He twitches under you, already eager to bury himself inside you. Arousal coils tight in your core. You give your hips a languid roll, deepening the kiss. Wandering hands run down your back, dip beneath your dress–

Pere-pere-pere-pere-pere! Pere-pere-pere-pere-pere!

Doffy's head lolls back with a frustrated groan. You bite your cheek, holding back a curse.

The snail transponder.

It had sat, mostly ignored, next to his drink on the table. Now it springs to life, stalked eyes wide and alert, it's droning a reminder of other priorities. Reluctantly, you situate yourself in your original positions. Doffy gives the device a withering glare; pleasure will have to wait for business.

"Someone had better be dead," he grumbles, snatching the receiver.

Before Doffy can even get a word in there's an explosion of noise. A man's voice babbling almost incoherently. You catch the words Sabaody, and pirates, but everything else slips through your fingers with his sniveling.

“Stop blubbering and tell me the situation,” Doffy cuts in. “State your name and business!”

The man on the other end coughs, a wet rasping noise that reminds you of rusted blades. “Th..this is Disco, reporting from the Auction House in Sabaody Archipelago!” Disco takes a gasping breath. “Mister Doflamingo! We need you here right now! It’s terrible–the biggest disaster we’ve ever seen–!” another gasp, “A celestial dragon has been attacked! All of our merchandise has escaped!”

You blink, surprised. Someone attacked a celestial dragon? On Sabaody, so close to the marine base? What kind of idiot would do something like that?

You see Doffy’s eyebrows perk and know he’s having similar thoughts. “Who?”

“Straw hat,” Disco wheezes. “Straw hat Luffy and his crew.”

‘Straw hat’? That sounded familiar; one of the rookies, maybe? If you think hard enough you can conjure a shaky image in your mind, a wide grin and the red-ribboned hat that gave him his name. You’ll have to ask Doffy about it later.

And from the looks of it, Doffy does know something; he’s laughing. A full bodied, belly deep laugh.

“This is no laughing matter!” Disco wheezes. You think, idly, that he might have been stabbed. “This is your shop, you know! Mister Doflamingo,” he pleads, shakily, “Where are you right now?! The shop has lost all credibility, and then there’s Roswald’s family too! They’re definitely going to lash out at us–do something to fix things!”

Doffy is still laughing. “Seriously…Human trafficking is so old fashioned, you idiot.”

“...Eh?”

“It’s all about smiles now!” Doffy explains plainly, as if speaking to a small child. “Smiles!”

Now that you know this isn’t actually important you’re impatient for this call to end; the excitement from earlier begins to stir once more. You nip at his collar. Doffy glances at you. Locking gazes, you lick a hot stripe up his throat. He grins wickedly at the want in your eyes. “Soon,” he mouths, patting your thigh.

“Disco,” he coos, “I’m giving the shop to you. So don’t be callin’ me anymore!” Another laugh bubbles out of him as you lave your tongue along his jaw.

“What?!” Disco shrieks, appalled. “You’re abandoning us during the worst crisis we’ve ever had?!”

You feel him tense at the outburst. You rub soothingly at his chest and continue to pepper kisses onto him but this does not dull the sharpness of his tone. “Quiet, you annoying bastard! While you sit there blaming me for your own misfortune, a “New-Era” draws ever closer, Disco-kun. The navy has given orders forcing me–no, us–into active duty!”

Doffy reaches for his mango juice and takes a languid a sip from his straw, giving the ice a swirl. He downs the rest of it with a satisfied “ah!”

“Knowing this, what do you see on the horizon, Disco-kun?” The empty glass clinks heavily against the table. You’re more than a little distracted by the way the sunlight glimmers on his golden bracelet. “The Whitebeard Pirates versus the Seven Warlords of the Sea!”

Again, Doffy laughs, rich and deep. Disco can only gape in shock. Before he can start gibbering again Doffy ends the call. Go-cha! The snail transponder closes its eyes and droops, a puppet with no strings, lifeless.

“Now then,” Doffy purrs. “I do believe that I was proposing?”

You run a finger down the path of the gold winding down his arm, tracing the curve of his bicep. “Oh, I think you were doing a little more than that.”

“Really?" he smirks. He pulls off his sunglasses, rosy eyes darkened with lust. "I can’t seem to recall. Care to remind me?”

“But of course.” You move to straddle him once more. This time there is no teasing, no hesitation. Doffy slips a hand beneath your dress skirt and yanks your panties down. The fabric is left bunched mid-way on your legs. You widen your stance a little more, sucking a mark onto his neck, as he traces circles on the inside of your thigh.

“Doffy,” you whine, leaning into his touch. “Please…”

He ghosts the pads of his fingers along your vulva. They come away slick. “Please what, my sweet?”

Fire burns your cheeks, your neck, your center. You want it to consume you. “Inside,” you plead. “Put ‘em inside me, please.”

He kisses behind your ear. “Good girl.”

You whine again, pulsing at his words. “Doffy…”

Teeth press against your bottom lip as he finally slips his middle and ring fingers into you. You grasp at his shirt for purchase; their familiar length curls upwards within you, seeking out the spot that makes you see stars. You arch forward, pushing the heel of his palm against yourself in a way that makes your walls clench. He shifts a touch the left; you suck in a breath, eyes fluttering shut. You feel him smirk. There.

What began as gentle exploration becomes a merciless charge forwards. Rhythmically, he pumps in and out, in and out, striking his target without mercy.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he says hotly into your ear. “Give it to me. Almost there.”

Nails brand red crescent moons into his shoulders. Every part of you burns. If you lose your grip, you think you'll be engulfed by the flames, turn to ash in his arms. You want it more than anything. “Doffy!”

“Almost,” he pants. “So close, just a little more–!”

With a final thrust, you are undone. Pleasure burns you away to nothing. A mewling noise falls from your lips as you scrabble desperately at his back. Cruel fingers wring you for all you can give, continuing their administrations until you’re teetering on the edge of madness, crying your husband’s name with every movement.

There are tears pricking your eyes when Doffy unzips his pants. You whimper, but not in fear. Pearly rivulets of pre-cum trickle down the head of his blushing cock; he’s big, thick too, and throbbing with desire.

He swipes some onto his thumb. He need not even ask; your mouth is already open and waiting when he presents it to you. “Good girl,” he praises as you lick him clean. It’s a bit salty, but with a sweet undertone. And all yours.

He pulls out of your mouth and squishes your cheeks, fingers damp with your saliva, to cant your head back. It takes a moment to realize, your mind clouded under the thick haze of passion, but you let out a breathy laugh when it clicks; he’s admiring the teardrops swimming in your eyes.

“What a sight you are,” he sighs, reverent. “An angel, caught right in my arms.”

All you can manage is a soft moan in response. You feel as if you are both floating and sinking, caught between the height of ecstasy and the depths of hedonism. You think you might be drooling in more ways than one. Le petit mort, some call it. ‘The little death’. If this is what it feels like to die, you would cross into eternity with a smile.

Doffy positions himself at your entrance, giving his shaft an idle stroke.

“Do you think you can handle all of me, my angel?” he asks. “Use your words.”

You ball his shirt in your fists, grounding yourself. “Yes,” you manage, nodding. “I can take it, I want it.”

His lips meet yours in a searing kiss. It is want and ache and a bloody heart. “Good girl.”

Slowly, gently, he begins to ease into you. Big hands hold you steady as you take deep breaths. Deeper, deeper, deeper. You welcome all of him into you, feel your walls flutter around each inch as it sinks in. He hisses, twitching, but keeps hold of his last threads of composure. Finally, he stops.

A tear falls through your lashes. You’re stretched, full, and it feels divine. You squeeze your eyes shut and take in one last deep breath.

Doffy kisses the wetness from your cheek. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

As always, he starts slow. A careful drag of his hips that has you digging your nails into him again. Then back in. His jaw is ticking in anticipation, wanting more, more, but he keeps the beast muzzled a few moments longer. When you start to bounce on your own, juices running down your legs, he knows you're ready.

He grips the plush of your hips tight as he grunts, thrusting forcefully into you. All illusions of restraint are shattered; the beast is free, and it is hungry. He pistons into you with such beautiful brutality that you weep, shuddering as another orgasm rips through you like lightning.

You slump onto his shoulder, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you. Your body is limp, pliant and soft like fresh clay, his hold the only thing preserving your shape.

“Such a good girl,” he pants, “taking me so well. You want it, huh? Want me to, ngh, fill you up real good?”

Tears are streaming down your face. “Please,” you slur, squeezing around him.

He curses. Impossibly, he starts to move faster. That familiar tightness builds in your core and you sob as you cum for a third time, pleasure and pain swirling around your skull in an all encompassing mix.

“Doffy,” you gasp, “Doffy, I love you–!”

A burst of warmth floods inside you. “Ngh–fuck!” he curses, stilling as his own climax overtakes him. He rests his chin atop your head, breathing heavily. “Cariño,” he groans. “Mi cariño. Te quiero, ángel. Te quiero demasiado. Tienes todo mi corazón.”

You hug him tight, drink in the tenderness of his words, the comfort of his scent. You hold all that he is in your arms and it is perfect. “I know, Doffy.” You kiss the teeth marks you left on his throat. “You have mine too. I’m all yours.”

You both stay like that for a little while, each recovering from your respective highs, holding one the other for as long as they need.

When your mixed juices begin to overflow and dribble out of you Doffy shifts, slowly pulling out of you. You come apart with a squelch so lewd that you can’t help but flush. It’s then that you remember that you are exposed in every sense of the word; the beach is thankfully empty thanks to the Birdcage, but still. The open air has you feeling self-conscious, and you hastily pull your underwear back into place.

Already, his sunglasses are back in place. “No one saw,” he assures, picking up on your nerves. “I would have killed any voyeur that dared to try.”

“I know,” you say, giving your surroundings a hasty look. “Just need to make sure, I guess. I think I might actually die if anyone but you saw me like that!”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he chides. “We have a wedding to attend, remember?”

The petaled thing in your chest blooms once more. “However could I forget?” you swoon, cozying up to his chest. Tucked safely beneath your ear, his heart carries on its familiar music. "When were we thinking? Tomorrow morning?”

“Mm, we wed in the morning last time. I had an evening ceremony in mind.”

You perk up. It paints a pretty picture, making your vows on the bony white sand, starlight dappling the ocean waves. “Could we have it right here, by the shore?” “I don’t see why not,” he shrugs. Then the mischief returns to his voice. “it’s fitting, seeing that we’ve already consummated the marriage here. Perhaps we should commit fully and wear the same clothes?”

You flush, mortified at the thought. “God, no!”

He nudges you teasingly. “Oh come on. It’s not like anyone would know.”

“I would. I would know. And even worse, you would know! And I know you, Doffy, I know exactly how you would act.”

“And how would I act?”

“Like yourself. So, you know. A bastard.”

He grins. “Would you have me any other way?”

You smile, soft. “No, never.”

“Good,” he chuckles, giving your thigh an affectionate pat. Then, after a pause, “I think I’ll wear my black suit. The one with the white overcoat.”

You trace the rim of his bracelet. “This too?”

“You really do like that piece, don’t you?”

“It draws attention to your hands,” you say dreamily. “And you know how much I love your hands.”

“That I do,” he smirks. As if to prove this point, he holds the one not stroking your thigh up to you. You take it between both of yours and pepper little kisses along his fingertips and knuckles.

“If this is the kind of treatment it’ll earn me, I’ll wear this everyday,” he chuckles.

“You should,” you hum, pressing your lips to his wrist. “If you do, I will give you ten million kisses every day for ever and ever.”

“When you put it that way, I’d be a fool not to.”

You laugh deviously, rubbing your cheek against his palm like a cat. “All according to plan. Now you have to wear it to the wedding and for the rest of your life!”

“How evil you are,” he snickers. “It appears I’ve finally started to rub off on you.”

“It was inevitable,” you nod solemnly. “All I need is a pink-feathered coat and a Warlord title.”

“Speaking of; I think you should wear your pink dress for the ceremony. Pearls, too.”

“Off the shoulder or lace sleeves?”

“Lace.” He toys with your dress skirt. “I’d appreciate some lace underneath the dress as well.”

“That can be arranged…” You shift to look up at him. “Serious question; do you think we could get Señor Bigotes to officiate?”

Doffy raises an eyebrow. “Darling. I would pull the moon and all its stars from the sky if you asked me to. I think I can manage to wrangle one cat.”

His earnesty makes your breath stutter. You know if you look at him any longer you’ll get too mushy and start crying again, so you snuggle back up to the crook of his neck. Doffy knows when you’ve had enough so lets you retreat. The crashing of the waves is more than enough to fill the silence. The seagulls chime in occasionally, which makes you chuckle.

“We’re getting married,” you sing, after you’ve settled.

He kisses your head. “We are,” he says, in that honey-suckle sweet voice just for you. “We should also get you cleaned up.”

You groan. “But I’m comfortable.”

“And you will continue to be comfortable,” he assures, hooking his arm under your knees. “I’ll carry you.”

You circle your arms around his neck as the world lurches upward. It used to make you nervous, being so far from the ground, but your husband is as strong as he is tall–if not even moreso. He won’t drop you.

“What are we thinking of for the cake?” he asks as he starts toward the ship. “Last time we did a marble so that one is out.”

“Hmm, red velvet?”

“We had that on our fourth.”

“Chocolate?”

“Did that on our first.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thoughtful. “Vanilla?”

He hums. “Vanilla…simple, but elegant. Vanilla it is.”

You kiss his chest. “We’re getting married,” kiss, “on the beach,” kiss, “with a cat–an office holding cat!–to officiate,” kiss, “and a vanilla wedding cake.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

The beat of his heart thrums steadily by your ear. “Yes. It sounds perfect.”

additional AN: title is from the poem 'devotion' by ocean vuong--you can read it here on poetry foundation !

TL for the spanish portion: "Darling. My darling. I love you, angel. I love you so much. You have all of my heart."

THIS MEANS WAR V

Dick Grayson x Reader x Jason Todd

divider by: @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto word count: 3k synopsis: Gotham’s youngest neuroscience lecturer never planned to get tangled up with two of its most eligible bachelors. Both are determined to win her over—without revealing they know each other… or that they’re vigilantes. But when the Joker takes an interest in her, things get a whole lot more complicated. a/n: This might’ve been one of my favorite chapters to write so far—I had way too much fun with it Also, not sure if everyone caught my earlier heads-up, but I’m currently on vacation! This is a scheduled post, and I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to interact while I’m away. I will catch up once I’m back though! You can check out my little announcement here, for more info on when posts are scheduled and how long they’ll keep coming. The taglist will most likely be on pause until I return, but feel free to let me know if you’d still like to be added—I’ll make sure to include you in later chapters once I’m back!

OUTSIDE THE GOLDEN CUP

You were fully ready to go home and forget Jason Todd ever existed—maybe even bitch about him to Milo and Anthony over some wine, when you caught sight of the last two people you wanted to see.

They were strolling your way, all smiles and casual affection, like some goddamn ad for moving on. Jake laughed at something she said, and you watched—horrified, frozen—as he brushed her hair back with the same hand that used to trace your jaw.

Your breath caught.

No. No, no, no.

“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath. “This is not happening right now.”

They hadn’t seen you yet, but it was only a matter of time. And you couldn’t do it again—you couldn’t be the girl standing alone while your ex showed off his new life like it was a goddamn prize he won by throwing you away.

You refused to give him that satisfaction.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You turned around and bolted after Jason.

“Wait—come back here!”

He turned, confusion flickering across his face as you reached out and grabbed his arm. “What the hell—?”

You barely let him finish.

“I need you to kiss me,” you hissed.

Jason stared at you like you’d sprouted a second head. “What? No!”

“Just kiss me!”

His brow furrowed in complete disbelief. “Why would I kiss you? Are you—are you insane?”

You glanced over your shoulder—Jake was looking this way now—and panic flared hotter.

“I’m serious!”

He leaned back slightly, like he was trying to decide if you were testing him or genuinely unwell. “Absolutely not. You’re completely bipolar.”

You let out a desperate, frustrated sound and grabbed him by the collar before he could protest further—then yanked him down and slamming your lips against his.

You kissed him.

Hard.

He froze.

But only for a moment.

His grip slid instinctively to your waist, and he kissed you back with a heat that knocked the breath out of you. His mouth was warm, confident, a little possessive. Infuriating as he was, Jason Todd could kiss.

Your fingers curled tighter in his jacket as the world fell away. For one dizzying second, you forgot Jake existed. Forgot why you were doing this. Forgot everything except the heat of Jason’s mouth on yours and the steady grip of his hands anchoring you in place.

Then—

“Y/N?”

Your name cut through the haze like a slap of cold air.

You pulled back, breath catching in your throat, lips tingling. Jason didn’t move. His mouth was still inches from yours. His gaze flicked to your lips, then up to your eyes, like he was debating whether he should kiss you again—reasons be damned.

Jake’s voice came clearer now, closer. “Y/N.”

You turned toward him, feigning surprise like you’d only just noticed. “Oh!” you gasped—more breathless than you meant to be, though that only worked in your favor. “Jake! Wow, what are the odds of running into you again?”

He smiled, but it was thin, the kind that hovered somewhere between forced and insincere. “Yeah. Funny coincidence. Who’s this?”

You forced a bright smile, even as you felt Jason’s stare drilling into the side of your face, sharp enough to make your skin prickle.

“Jason—my boyfriend,” you said, pitching your voice higher than usual. “You remember, right? The doctor I told you about? We met at that neuroscience conference.”

Jason still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t stopped glaring. Your nerves were fraying with every second of silence, mentally begging him not to ruin this. Not to humiliate you.

Then, finally, he shifted.

Jason turned toward Jake and Hannah with a grin that was all charm on the surface—and nothing but sharp edges underneath. “Jason Todd,” he said, extending his hand.

Jake hesitated, then reached out. The second their palms met, Jason’s grip tightened just enough to make a point.

Jake winced.

“Jake,” he replied, trying not to sound rattled. “You’ve got a strong grip. So… you’re a neurosurgeon?”

You resisted the urge to groan. Three years of dating, and Jake still hadn’t figured out the difference between a neurosurgeon and a neuroscientist.

“Scientist,” Jason corrected smoothly, not missing a beat. “Same as Y/N. We work together—and I have to say, she’s a brilliant woman.”

Jake’s smile twitched, strained at the edges. “Yeah she is.” he agreed more out of the sake of agreeing rather than actually believing it.

“Oh wow, that’s so amazing,” Hannah gushed, completely sincere. “A couple that’s both gorgeous and smart? Total power duo.”

You didn’t miss the way Jake’s jaw ticked at that. His smile faltered.

Jason, of course, leaned into it with practiced ease.

“Ah, Y/N’s the amazing one,” he said, glancing down at you with a look so convincingly tender your stomach flipped. “I don’t know what I love more—getting to work beside her or waking up every morning knowing she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat blooming beneath your skin.

God. He was good at this.

“He’s such a charmer,” you laughed, sharing a quick smile with Hannah before turning to Jason with a soft shake of your head. “If anything, I’m the lucky one.”

He crinkled his nose. “God, I love you.”

“I love you,” you giggled—at the exact same time.

Jake blinked, clearly caught off-guard, his expression faltering. His mouth opened like he might say something—then shut again, silent for once.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours again, gentler this time. Your fingers curled around his jacket instinctively as your body leaned into his without thinking. When you finally pulled back, you let out a breathless laugh, resting your head against his chest.

“We’re really happy,” you told Jake and Hannah, your voice light, breezy, too casual for how hard your heart was pounding.

Jason nodded, keeping you close with a hand settled snugly at your waist. “We are. But then again—who wouldn’t be happy with her? She’s got the brains, the beauty… even the brawn. Did you know she was a gymnast in high school?”

Jake stiffened. His frown appeared, vanished, then locked into place. “No. I didn’t.”

Jason’s grin turned wicked. “Didn’t think so.”

You gave a slightly awkward smile, not having expected him to bring that little detail up. “Yeah… he likes to brag,” you said with a giggle, reaching up to lightly slap his cheek in a silent shut up.

Jason just laughed, eyes dancing with mischief. “Ooh, feisty—I love it. My girl’s such a wildcat.”

And then, to your horror, he emphasized the point by bringing his large palm down on your ass in a quick, confident smack.

You let out a startled squeak. “Jason!”

He grinned, entirely unrepentant. “Sorry. I just can’t get enough of you.” Then he turned to the other two with a grin that was anything but apologetic.

Jake looked like he was rethinking every life choice that led him to this moment.

But Hannah?

Hannah sighed like she’d just watched the final scene of a rom-com. “That’s so romantic,” she breathed, practically glowing. Her eyes were glued to Jason, dreamy and starstruck, like she’d just mentally cast him as the lead in every fantasy she’d ever had.

You blinked.

Jason smirked.

And Jake looked one second away from combusting.

He shifted awkwardly, clearly itching to escape. “Well. It was nice seeing you, Y/N. And… meeting you, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You too, Josh. We gotta run.”

Jake blinked. “It’s… Jake.”

“Oh.” Jason tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Right. Jake. Sorry, man. So many J names floating around in my life lately.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard, doing everything you could not to burst out laughing.

“It was really nice meeting you,” Hannah said sweetly, clearly trying to smooth things over.

Jason turned to her like she was the only person in the world. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said, catching her hand with gallant ease.

Then—of course—he bowed slightly and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand like he was stepping straight out of a period drama.

Hannah flushed instantly, caught somewhere between flattered and utterly frazzled.

Jake’s frown sharpened, but he forced a brittle smile. “Oh look at that. A kiss on the hand. Classy.”

“You are so lucky,” Hannah whispered to you with starry eyes. And she meant it. The poor girl was enchanted.

You gave a polite, noncommittal smile. “I know.”

Jake clearly had enough. He tugged Hannah’s hand a little too firmly. “Enjoy your night.”

“Oh, we will,” Jason replied, already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against him like he’d been waiting all night for an excuse. As the couple turned to walk away, Jason called out, sweet as syrup, “See ya, Justin!”

“It’s Jake!” came the snapped reply from halfway down the block.

Jason grinned, satisfied. Like a cat full of cream and mischief. His eyes still sparkled as he watched them disappear around the corner.

Then Jason turned to you, expression flat, voice bone-dry. “So. Want to tell me what the hell that was?”

You let out a slow breath, brushing your hair out of your face as the adrenaline finally started to fade. “An emergency.”

He arched a brow. “That’s not how normal people handle emergencies.”

You snorted, the tension finally beginning to unravel from your spine. “I’m not normal. You of all people should know that.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That’s one word for it.”

Your mouth twitched, and you looked up at him, expression softening. “Thanks, by the way. Really.”

A sly smile curved across his lips as he cupped a hand behind his ear. “Sorry—what was that? This ear’s a little deaf.”

You huffed, but it came with a reluctant smile. “I said thank you. Thank you. You don’t have to be annoying about it.”

He grinned, but this time there was something softer behind it. Something genuine. “You want to try this again? Start over. We could grab a bite—your pick.”

You hesitated, teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Then he added, “You do owe me an explanation for… whatever that was.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. He wasn’t wrong. You had, technically, assaulted him with a surprise kiss and roped him into a soap opera without warning. The fact that he went along with it—without throwing you to the wolves—definitely earned him a second chance. And probably dessert.

“Come on—I know a café just down the street. Cozy, quiet, not too many people. Coffee that’s actually good,” you added, shooting him a teasing look over your shoulder, “and the pastries are amazing.”

CAFÉ NERO

“…and I packed up everything,” you said, fingers tracing the rim of your iced coffee. “Turned down a position at STAR Labs. All to move back here with him.”

You took a sip, using the taste of the cold overly sweet liquid to ground you for a second.

“Few months later, I found him in our bed with his yoga instructor.”

Jason winced. “Damn.”

You gave him a rueful grin. “You can say it. I’m an idiot. Three PhDs, I literally study the brain—and I still didn’t see how much of a tool he was.”

Jason shook his head. “You’re not an idiot. You were in love. Love’s great at messing with the parts of the brain that normally warn us about red flags. Doesn’t make you dumb. Just makes you human.”

Your gaze softened at his surprisingly insightful words. “He just wasn’t the guy I thought he was. It feels like… a mistake.”

Jason leaned back, his tone more certain. “I don’t believe in mistakes.”

You gave him a look, amused. “That’s a very convenient philosophy for someone like you.”

He smirked. “Maybe. But it’s the mistakes that shape us. Break us down, sure. But they also build us. They brought you back here, didn’t they?”

You blinked, considering. “Would you rather be back in Central City?” he asked.

“Surprisingly… no.” You glanced out the café window, watching the Gotham streets pulse with life. “For all its chaos, Gotham was—is my home. I love my place and my best friends live across the hall.”

“And you like your job,” Jason added.

“I love my job,” you agree, thinking about all the brilliant sleep deprived lunatics you taught and worked with.

He shrugged. “So there you go.” Then, watching you mull it over, his smirk softened. “Just saying.”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “That’s dangerously close to sounding wise.”

“I have my moments,” he smirked, then quoted, almost under his breath,“‘We all have a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.’”

You blinked. “Wait—what was that?”

Jason took a slow sip of his drink, expression suspiciously innocent.

“No way!” You gasped “That’s Pride and Prejudice.” You pointed a finger at him, eyes lit with amusement. “That’s a direct quote.”

He didn’t deny it. Just smiled. “You sure?”

“Yes!” you laughed, practically bouncing in your seat. “That’s Elizabeth. Talking about trusting your own judgment. I wrote a whole damn paper on it in high school!” You leaned forward, studying him like he was a puzzle you’d only just realized you wanted to solve. “How do you know that quote?”

“Maybe I just appreciate the classics,” he said, trying for nonchalance—but the faint flush rising in his cheeks betrayed him.

You squinted at him. “How many times have you read it?”

He shrugged. “I’ve lost track.”

His flush deepened, blooming up his cheeks now, and you couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“You so are.”

“It’s good,” he defended, a little sheepishly. “Austen didn’t just write about romance. She wrote about perception. Power. How we lie to ourselves and convince ourselves we’re right—until someone challenges us.”

You tilted your head, watching him with new eyes—seeing a side of him that didn’t quite fit the arrogant bad boy persona you’d so easily pinned him with. Maybe he was right. Maybe you had been too quick to assume. He hadn’t exactly made the best first impression, sure—but you hadn’t given him much of a chance to prove otherwise, either. The truth was, you’d both misjudged each other. Different shades of the same mistake.

“It’s not just Darcy and Elizabeth dancing around their feelings,” he went on. “It’s how pride isolates you. How prejudice can ruin things before they even begin. It’s about waking up to your own flaws and doing something about them.”

“Wow,” you murmured, genuinely impressed. A smile tugged at your lips. “Okay. That was… borderline profound.”

He chuckled, looking a little self-conscious. “I read it when I was younger. Thought I was a Darcy type.” He paused, then added dryly, “Turns out I was more of a Lydia.”

You choked on your drink. “Lydia?!”

“Metaphorically,” he said, raising his hands. “Reckless. Stubborn. Thought I knew everything and didn’t need anyone.” He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “But don’t worry, I’ll still be the Darcy to your Elizabeth.”

“That is so cheesy.” You giggled. “I still can’t wrap my head around the face that you’re a closet Austen fan.”

“Don’t go telling people,” he said with a crooked grin. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Too late,” you teased. “I’m never letting this go.” A smile lingered on your lips as you shook your head in disbelief. “And here I thought you were all leather jackets and terrible flirting.”

Jason leaned in, forearms braced on the table, eyes glinting. “Maybe I just needed the right Elizabeth Bennet to call me out.”

You raised your cup, matching the spark in his gaze. “You’ve got a long way to go, Mr. Darcy.”

His smirk deepened. “Challenge accepted.”

Now that you weren’t arguing or making assumptions about each other, the date had gone… surprisingly well.

More than well, actually.

You found yourself genuinely enjoying Jason’s company—his sharp wit, his unexpected depth, and the fact that, beneath the leather and bravado, he was a total literary nerd. Not only could he keep up when you started debating themes and structure, he actually challenged you. Matched your pace with insight and humor.

It reminded you—just a little—of how Dick had been able to keep up when you started rambling about science. The way he hadn’t just nodded along, but asked questions. Listened.

You tried not to think about that. Tried not to dwell on the small, unwelcome flutter of disappointment still lingering in your chest over the fact that he hadn’t texted you back. Maybe he got busy. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. You brushed it off and pulled your focus back to Jason, who, to his credit, hadn’t given you a single reason to walk away again.

What were the odds, anyway? Two gorgeous, intelligent men—both with sharp minds and devastating smiles—taking you out in the span of a few days.

You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed until you glanced outside. The streetlights had flickered on. Gotham was slipping into night—where the real chaos lived. The two of you had been talking for far longer than an hour, and while your brain wanted to stay planted in that booth, you’d learned your lesson.

You stood reluctantly, gathering your things as the last traces of sunlight slipped out of Gotham’s skyline. Juan glanced up from where he was wiping down the counter and sent you a knowing grin.

“Can I expect no more order for one?”

You glanced toward the door, where Jason was already there, holding it open with one hand, waiting. Then back to Juan, smirking. “We’ll see.”

Juan chuckled softly. “He’s good man, Doctora.”

You smiled, warmth creeping into your chest. “Yeah,” you said, eyes drifting back to the door. “I think he really is.”

Outside, the air was cooler now but neither of you seemed to mind, wanting to drag out the moment for just a few more minutes.

Jason paused beside you on the sidewalk, hands in his jacket pockets. “So,” he asked, voice casual but eyes watching you closely, “what’s the verdict?”

You tilted your head, lips curling into a smile. “The verdict is… I actually had a lot of fun. And I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

Something that looked suspiciously like relief flickered across his face before settling into a crooked, satisfied grin. “And here I thought I might have to crash another one of your lectures.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You were insane for doing that.”

He shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “Worked, didn’t it? Got me a date with you.”

You grinned, warmth blooming in your chest despite yourself.

The two of you exchanged numbers and say your goodbyes. Jason offered one last wink before turning and disappearing into the crowd like he belonged to the night.

You made it home in one piece—miraculously not mugged or emotionally spiraling—kicked off your shoes, and flopped onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. Then you checked your phone.

One unread message.

Your eyes widened as you saw the name on the screen.

Dick Grayson

Hey, sorry I haven’t texted sooner. Got caught up with an emergency. Let me know when you’re free for that second date.

Your stomach dropped.

Oh. Shit. You were so screwed.

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Taglist: @mei-simp, @sept3mberchild, @a-brilliante-mariposa, @feralwolfkat, @mercuryathens, @beepboopcowboy, @lordbugs, @coffeemin, @nikkeora, @yuyuti02

488 notes View Post

neogogori

10 months ago

the sillies

413 notes View Post

neogogori

8 months ago

post-war togachaco <3 i like to think that toga grows her hair out because she gets a girlfriend who likes taking care of it :)

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neogogori

4 years ago

boss era — jaehyun [insp.]

1K notes View Post

neogogori

7 months ago

A final version of this piece! With Perona now.

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neogogori

9 months ago

FUELED APOLOGY ☾

angry sex w mma toji, minutes before a match

tags — heavy nsfw, locker room sex, slight exhibitionism (they can def hear), angry toji, marked upp, dumbification, spit kink, cum dump, fingering, locker room sex, soft toji, apologetic toji, biting, unprotected,

the silent treatment was probably the single most annoying thing you could possibly do to toji. he’ll take anything else, yelling, screaming, hitting, kicking… just acknowledge him. but when you’re dead silent, blank stare; pretending he doesn’t even exist! now that makes him feel like shit…

he couldn’t even grasp the depths of your anger, until you began giving him the cold shoulder.

“you can’t answer a text anymore?” he’s leaning over the couch, eye bags dark and heavy, considering he stayed up all night waiting for you to come back home.

you don’t even look at him. you’re just taking off your shoes and padding your way to the bedroom. the door slamming shut. even when he slides under the covers, completely exhausted, his fingers grazing your arm filled with goosebumps, you slide further away.

“stop acting like a child—“ he honestly should’ve kept his mouth shut, next thing he knows, you were grabbing a pillow and dragging your feet down to the living room. he groans into the covers.

it didn’t matter that he’d come down after a few minutes. his fingers brushing your cheek before gently scooping you into his arms and carrying back into bed. his lips brushing your cheek in your deep sleep, so he can doze off beside you. finally able to sleep.

yet the morning would come and you’d be gone again, until he’s staying up again, waiting for you.

“seriously?” he immediately follows you into the bedroom as you ignore his greeting. “I fucking get it, now will you talk to me? I know you’re pissed, so just fucking give it to me!” his chest was boiling as he watched you pull off your clothes, stepping into the shower.

he sat quietly on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, resting his head back as he watched you shower through the steamed glass. his mind was shutting down, he didn’t like fighting with you. he knew he had a temper, and he could be stubborn, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything for you!

his eyes fluttered open hearing you step out of the shower. rubbing his eyes, gaze set on your movements, his following the water droplets slide down the small of your back. the pretty way your nipples start to perk from the change in temperature.

you had to swallow your own love in order to walk past the tired man. he’s been overworking himself these past couple of weeks in order to get in shape for this upcoming match. you wanted to do your best to support him.

you hated seeing him so stressed all the time. but when you decided to try and help him when he was out training on the beach with his team, sprinting from one end to the other. you wanted him to know that you were there for him. even though you were busy with your uni classes and stressed from your own shit, you didn’t want toji to think he was alone.

so you brought your work to the beach, as he trained. was it really support when you’re laughing and chatting and letting every guy known to man, hit on you?! the emperor of mma wasn’t insecure. he knew you’d never do anything. yet, it still sent his blood sizzling, upset that you came here, all for you to start talking to these men—

“y/n!” the sudden shout of your name had your ears perking up, eyes shifting to the broad shouldered man, heaving by the ocean. you didn’t hesitate to grab the energy drink, happy that you can finally help as you sprinted to your boyfriend.

“how’s training? i was getting worried since you haven’t taken a break in so long—“

“what’re you doing?” the cut in his sentence had your brows pinching, still waiting for him to take the drink from your hands.

“nothing? was just waiting for yo—“

“nothing?” he repeats, his green eyes were as dark as the night forest.

“um…” you itch your cheek awkwardly. “i think you’re tired, I also brought some protein bars and sandwiches. just eat one—“

“go home,” he takes the drink from your hand. your eyes shift to his.

“I’ll leave in a couple minutes, I’m just—“

“I don’t wanna fucking see you right now. you’re distracting me, and it’s not helping!” he couldn’t make excuses. was it his fault? he was tired, and you were distracting, laughing and chatting away with these strangers—

“i didn’t mean to distract you. I came to—“

“I didn’t ask. so thanks, but you can leave now,” toji turns away from you, handing back the drink. “text me when you get ho—“ he glances over his shoulder to see you already grabbing your things and leaving.

he was praying that he didn’t fuck this up. especially when he didn’t get a text from you, of course he had to spam your phone with messages asking if you got home safely. was it a relief when he came home to see you already asleep?

“y/n?” his voice is low as he kneels beside the bed, palm gently holding your cute face. so soft. your eyes slowly open, brows pinched as you look at him. “why didn’t you text me?”

“didn’t wanna be a distraction,” your words laced with tired sarcasm.

toji drops his head, letting out a sigh. “seriously?”

“seriously, what?” you snap, sitting up on your elbow.

“it’s not a big deal. I was stressed,” toji’s hand drops on the mattress, as he rubs his eye.

“whatever,” you didn’t even want to bother anymore. you turn over, not wanting to talk to him, but the grip on your shoulder told you otherwise.

“you’re not done talking,” he looks at your pinched expression, clearly pissed off. “what do you want me to do? apologize?”

“you’re such a dick sometimes,” you push his hand away from you. “I was trying to support you, and you don’t even care.”

“I do care!” he groans, why is this so difficult for him? “I just don’t need every dude with a fucking dick, hitting on you—“

“do you not trust me?” you’re practically glaring, which toji hates.

“stupid ass question,” he huffs, standing up. “you don’t think I trust you?” he’s pulling off his dirty clothes, tossing them to the side.

“no I don’t think so,” you sit up, face hurting from how long you’ve been frowning.

“then you’re causing problems for no fucking reason!” he slams the bathroom door, causing the entire room to shake.

“dick,” you mutter, biting your cheek as you hug your legs.

the cold shower was honestly what he needed. once the freezing water hit his back, it ultimately cooled his heated mind. what the fuck did he just start?

“sweetheart?” toji dries his face as he steps out the bathroom. immediately noticing the empty bed. “fuck me.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” toji is pressing his face in your neck, big body hugging your small frame as the steam from the shower slowly slips out. you don’t answer, just twisting the knife even deeper. you were angry, still. “are you gonna come tomorrow?”

you squirt some moisturizer on your fingers, before rubbing it on your face. his chin rests on your shoulder as he watches you through the mirror. if only his fans saw how much of a baby he gets when you give him the silent treatment. he could almost cry right now.

“y/n, please,” his arm squeezes your middle tighter, his beefy arms completely latched onto you as you don’t even bother to meet his gaze. “i need you there.” he mutters quietly. he was so tired, so when you ignore him again he decides to pull himself away.

your heart clenched. were you being too mean? you crawl onto the bed after getting dressed, he’s already asleep. his chest rising and falling as he kept his arm outstretched, an unconscious habit once you started dating, the invitation for your body to snuggle into him, always there.

your fingers gently caress his cheek, sitting beside his chest as you watch the deep even breaths. he always looks so peaceful. his body exuded warmth, practically seducing you into his arms. you wondered if he’ll be alright. yes, you were giving him the cold shoulder, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care.

especially with his habit of fucking you. was he going to be alright. it wasn’t impossible for him not to fuck before a match, but if he didn’t, it usually made him more aggressive in the cage. a couple warnings from the referee was not uncommon.

your lips softly pressed against his, eyes closing as you felt his own lips push back. your heart skipped a beat…he always has this effect on you.

his arm snaked around your waist, laying you down as he immediately hugged your middle, letting your inviting arms hug his shoulders as you caressed his hair coaxing him to sleep.

the moment was so intimate. you almost forgot you were still angry with him. however, toji most certainly did not forget. especially as the stadium erupted in cheers and applause as the fans awaited their fighters.

you sat in the front row. of course you came, you knew how much he’s been training. this silent treatment shit was not going to stop you from still supporting him….but….you felt your heart ache for a moment….it still felt like shit. felt like shit when he wouldn’t acknowledge what you do for him—

“y/n,” tojis manager, shiu’s hand suddenly brought you back.

“what—“

“can you come with me?” shiu was already dragging you up, holding your shoulder as he escorted you.

“what’s wrong?”

“he won’t stop asking for you,” shiu was stressed, clearly. it was less than half an hour before the match, what could possible be wrong with toji?

“did something happen??” you’re suddenly panicking, moving quickly down the hallway. what’s wrong? is he injured? does he feel sick?

“I don’t know, he’s not answering anyone,” you’re bursting into the locker room, eyes immediately falling onto the fighter sitting on the bench, hunched over, face in his hands.

“toji?” you’re immediately leaning down, your hands carefully on top of his as you try to speak. “what’s wrong—“

“everyone out,” toji snaps, his team all looking at one another panicked.

“toji we need to get you ready—“

“everyone fucking out or I’m not doing this match!” he shouts, startling you, but you look over at shiu nodding your head. trying to give them some kind of reassurance.

“we’re waiting outside,” shiu rubs his face, as he closes the door behind the last person. your attention now shifting back to your boyfriend.

“is everything oka—“ his lips suddenly crash into you. fingers firmly holding your jaw as his tongue slips into your mouth. you’re completely caught off guard, hands holding his wrists, whining as he pushes you against the lockers, arm wrapping around your waist pressing you firmly into his chest—

“toji!” you gasp, breath heavy as you meet his gaze. “what’s going on—“

“I do need you,” he groans, aggressively shoving his shorts down to allow his very erect cock to spring out, pre cum leaking out of the tip as he kisses your lips. “don’t ignore me again, i fucking hate it!” he bites your bottom lip, causing your voice to crack, whining. “answer me—“

“toji, they’re outside—“ but he’s already pulling your panties off, lifting your skirt as he drags his fingers through your folds.

“I trained this pussy so well,” he groans, kissing your lips. “ya get so wet just from kissin’ me,” he smiles, knees kicking your legs further apart as you whine, trying to hold his shoulders for balance.

“you never apologized,” you turn your cheek away, disconnecting his lips from yours as you try and catch your breath. “I came here to support you, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you,” your jaw clenched, trying to hold your composure, only to yelp as you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

“you’re pissing me off,” his fingers pushed into your pussy, your walls sucking him as you let out a strangled moan, the squelching wasn’t helping you either. “still have something to say?” he snaps, sucking bruises along your neck and shoulder as he pumps his thick fingers in your pussy, proud of himself as he hears the squelching start to trickle down his fingers.

“toji—“ you’re biting your hand, muffling your moans as your face heats up. so embarrassed that this is happening and you couldn’t even push him away.

“did I cover your mouth?” his words echo as he pins your wrist over your head. “you like talking, so lemme hear you.”

“no—ah ah…they’ll hear me—“ your desperately trying to keep some dignity, but it all leaves the moment you feel your body being lifting in the air.

“you’re such a baby,” he laughs, eyes dark and lips curling, because this was not your toji, no. pre-match toji was a whole different person. he could not afford a single warning or a threat of disqualification in this match.

“I’m not, you’re just a dick—“

“what else?” he can’t help the heat rushing south as he hears your fueled words. suddenly pumping blood into his veins, and his dick.

“you’re mean, and you take me for granted. you don’t apologize unless I ignore you—“ toji groans, as he pumps his hefty cock to your words, still able to hold your up, as he aligns his pulsing cock with your dripping wet folds.

“how mad are you baby?” he’s practically panting.

“fuck you,” and that’s all he wants because he’s dropping you down, shoving his entire dick inside until your eyes burst with tears feeling his thick trimmed hair tickling your clit, completely bottoming out.

“fucking took out my eardrums, puppy,” he’s laughing in your face as he pulls his hips back and shoves his cock inside you again. you were completely dazed, that moment he sank his full length deep in your tummy, your brain automatically turned to mush. he usually took his time when it’s the night before a match, but there was no time now. so he couldn’t hold himself back as he let you take it full force.

you were an absolute mess, crying and letting out broken moans as he pumped his hot cock in your tight hole.

“can’t talk anymore? thought you had so much to say, pup?” he’s sucking your lips, smiling at how swollen and used they’ve gotten as he picks up the pace. the lewd echoes bounced off the walls, your body burning from embarrassment, but it didn’t matter—

“to-toji….do ah hahh you….uh uh..need me?” your eyes were filled with tears as you held his hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp, the other digging into his shoulders as you drooled. such a mess in such a small time.

“of course I—ungh do,” his teeth pull at your bottom lip. kissing you over and over as he draws near his climax. your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin as you feel bite at your neck. “you’re my biggest fucking fan, and I’ll always need you,” his jaw is clenching as he feels your pussy spasming around him. “you cummin’ pup?”

“mhm? ahh— mm oji!” he grips your ass, fucking you faster as he feels his balls tighten. you’re drooling into his lips as he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out, groaning as he feels your spit rub inside his mouth. such a filthy girl. you were creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock as your eyes grew.

“too much…ahhh—wait!” the lockers were shaking as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs shook.

“you’re everything, y/n,” your cheeks flare, you loved when he called you nicknames. but when he moans out your name, you can’t help the butterflies that break out. “I love you, so much,” his head tilts back as he shoves his hips deeper in, releasing warm globs of white cum into your warm pussy.

“don’t….ignore…me,” he sighs, thrusting more as you bite your lip, tears sliding down your cheeks as you feel the last bit of his heavy load finally come out as he pulls out. he still holds you up, pumping his cock to release the excess amount of cum on your nasty pussy.

“goes both ways,” you cup his cheeks, bringing him to your lips, smiling as he caresses your ass, giving it a firm slap.

you stumble on your feet, going over to the sink to rinse yourself down there. grabbing a towel—

“keep it in,” his lips nibble at your neck as he runs a hand down between your legs cupping your pussy. your cheeks sting, feeling his big fingers scoop at his cum and shoving it back in, your hand falling to his thick forearm as he pats your cute tummy with his other hand. “you’re my good luck charm, sweetheart,” he licks the bruise on your neck, dropping to his knees to kiss your pussy.

you almost whine, watching him smile up at you, desperate to hold in your composure, especially when he gives you a wink covering your cute little pussy with your panties, and giving it a cute kiss again.

your face was red as he called the team back in. no one said a word about what they obviously heard, especially with the way they avoided looking at you, specifically since toji was staring daggers at them for even asking you if you needed some water….I mean considering what they heard…

once they finished wrapping his gloves, shiu was escorting you back to your seat—

“y/n,” the soft call, immediately had your head turning. eyes so bright as he smiled…a gentle tug, that had your heart skipping a beat. “I am sorry.”

you can only nod, trying to keep your smile from taking over. “i know,” and so does he. all you wanted to know is that he felt remorseful, something that will acknowledge what he did and that he’ll do better, because that’s all you can ask for.

you definitely were a good luck charm. the moment the bell rang, announcing his win, the audience was going batshit crazy. people screaming, and cheering as flashes from photographers blinded the stadium.

everyone already knew his routine. it was even more gossip and cheers when they noticed the marks on his back—

pushing past the cameras and the annoying speakers, until he was jumping down from the cage and letting you leap into his arms, lips latching onto his as he held you up. the matching bruises was definitely something for twitter to run with.

“you liked it?” he muttered against your lips, only for your ears.

“ya! you always look so cool!” you gush, your cute smile sending his heart swelling, your words always hitting him. “I love seeing you fight! but you can be so mean.”

“how so?” he raises a brow.

“some rounds they can’t even catch a break,” you empathize.

“that’s the point, baby,” his hand unconsciously rubs your back, settling you down as you talk to him. your fingers unconsciously caressing the nape of his neck, careful of his own bruises.

“nuh-uh, the point is to have fun….and win—but like you know what I mean,” you roll your eyes, only to look back at toji hearing him laugh. your own lips curling into a smile.

“I guess so,” he dips his head, lips pressing to your warm cheek. “i just need you here to remind me.”

his arms wrap around you, lips brushing yours. “just stay with me…” his kiss was soft. “I’ll be better…just for you.”

he will. unless he wants to loose you. he can change for a princess.