karvo

need some good fantasy fic recs if anyone has some good ones to recommend!

satoru gojo

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what remains

fo4 overview

five - pulses

You were walking before your body was ready– long before the sun had risen over the broken skyline of Quincy. Sore limbs and lungs still not taking enough air in working overtime to trek across the Commonwealth. Gojo didn’t say anything about it. He just kept his head down, walking alongside you, hands in the pockets of his jacket that still looked too clean despite the time he’s spent here. The plan was to head to Kendall Hospital. On the way, stop by Diamond City– restock supplies, catch up with Nick and Piper, maybe spend a few days there to decompress before heading back into danger. Gojo had said Kendall Hospital had something he needed– something that couldn’t wait. He hadn’t told you what yet, but you knew he’d tell you when he was ready. Or, at least, you had hoped he would.

what remains

fo4 overview

four - embers

The sun was rising by the time you reached the edge of Far Harbor again, its pale light struggling to cut through the ever-present fog. The ocean hissed nearby, waves lapping against the cracked pier– a quiet reminder the world still turned, even when yours had shifted off its axis. You hadn’t spoken much on the walk back. Gojo was quiet, the kind of quiet that meant he was thinking too much, even as he kept pace beside you with his usual infuriating grace. His blindfold was back in place, but you could tell something behind it had changed. Maybe in both of you. After all, it wasn’t every day you stared into a hole in the world and saw your own fears staring back.

what remains

fo4 overview

three - tethered

You hadn’t planned on trekking through a radiation-blasted hellscape with Satoru Gojo at your side, but life in the Commonwealth rarely cared for plans. Weeks of meaningless patrols and terminal logs that led to some new discovery had passed. It was hard to stay still here. It was hard to not keep moving. Word from a trader said the Institute was hiding some kind of dimensional rift project in a secret lab beneath the ruins of Vault 118– long since consumed by the chaos of Far Harbor and irradiated fog, but rarely occupied by normal, breathing humans.

“Lovely,” Gojo muttered, staring at the stretch of road ahead, swallowed in green mist. “This place smells like if a swamp and a corpse had a baby.”

what remains

fo4 overview

two - mercy

The Brotherhood didn’t forget.

Two days after Gojo spared their patrol, a Vertibird passed overhead your camp. Then another. Then four in formation, circling like vultures with steel wings.

“They’re scouting,” you murmured, peering through your scope. “Looking for the unnatural anomaly. You.”

Gojo lounged on a crumbling concrete wall, legs swinging lazily as he chewed Fancy Lad Snack Cakes like they were gourmet. “Anomaly?” he grinned. “They say it like it’s a bad thing.”

his hands are shaking. not from nerves (well, okay, maybe a little from nerves), but mostly from how bad he’s holding back.

you’ve got him on the edge of the bed, thighs spread just enough for you to kneel between them. he’s looking down at you through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight, like he’s trying really hard not to pull you up onto his lap. but, no. you insisted on sinking down onto the floor in front of him.

your palms smooth up the insides of his thighs over his sweats, slow and deliberate, and you feel the muscle in his leg jump under your touch. he’s breathing heavier already, hair falling into his face, and it’s the prettiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.

“you don’t–” he swallows hard, eyes darting to the way your fingers are brushing over the outline of his cock. “you don’t have to–”

you laugh, quiet, almost teasing. “i want to, cho.”

and then you’re tugging his waistband down, just enough for him to spring free– flushed and leaking, his breath hitching the second your fingers wrap around him.

“fuck,” he hisses, head tipping back for a second before he forces himself to look down at you again. “you’re… you’re going to kill me.”

you lick along the underside of his cock, tracing that thick vein with the tip of your tongue, and the sound he makes is somewhere between a moan and a plea– choked, needy, like he’s never felt anything so good and it’s already too much.

his hands twitch at his sides, knuckles going white against the mattress like he’s physically restraining himself from grabbing you. he’s too polite, too careful, until you glance up through your lashes and smirk.

“go ahead.”

it’s all the permission he needs. his fingers sink into your hair instantly, holding you there like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. the other grabs tight onto the edge of the mattress. you can hear the sheet threads pop apart under the pressure of his fingernails.

“shit–” he breathes out, hips shifting just a little when you wrap your lips around him, taking him in slow until your nose brushes the soft skin of his lower stomach. his fingers in your hair tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you hum around him.

that hum has him cursing again, his head falling forward so a strand of hair swings into his eyes. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

you pull back, letting him slip from your mouth with a slick sound, and your hand replaces it, stroking him slow and filthy as you lick your lips. “then make sure you die pretty.”

his breath stutters like you just knocked the air out of him, and you can feel the way his cock twitches in your grip. his fingers flex in your hair, trying to decide if he should beg or take control.

“fuck, you’re–” his voice breaks, and he tilts his head back just enough for you to watch his throat work as he swallows hard. “you don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

you smile, slow and dangerous, giving him one last stroke before taking him into your mouth again, deeper this time, until his thighs tense under your palms. he groans, the sound low and desperate, his hips jerking just a little despite himself. you know he isn’t going to last much longer.

how easy he is for you.

what remains

fo4 overview

one - displaced

There’s a smell that never leaves the Commonwealth– charred metal, irradiated dust, rot and gunpowder baked into the bones of collapsed buildings. It clings to your clothes, burrows into your skin, settles in your lungs. After a while, you stop noticing. It’s just another part of surviving the end of the world.

The bombs fell in 2077. But the real ending didn’t come from the sky. It came after, when people clawed each other apart for the scraps– when cities became ruins and ruins became battlegrounds. Every day since has been an echo of the past, ringing endlessly in the silence left behind.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to sleep a little longer, wake up to a better future– a safer one.

But the Vault lied. Just like the world above it.

what remains masterlist - ON HOLD

one: displaced

two: mercy

three: tethered

four: embers

five: pulses

six: collapse

seven: fractured

eight: weighted

nine: duplicity

ten: omissions

eleven: mirage

tbd…

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this is my longest fic to date and my magnum opus. i am so so so excited for you guys to read it <3 leave a comment for the taglist and don’t forget to comment and reblog :p

it’s his birthday, and you can tell he doesn’t expect much– choso never really does. he’s awkward about gifts, shy about attention, and honestly thinks a quiet night in with you is more than enough. but when you lean in a little closer, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, you see the way his breath stutters. the way his eyes widen like he can’t believe what you’re suggesting.

he tries to brush it off at first– “we don’t have to, it’s okay, i’m fine with just–” but his voice cracks, rough and unsure. you cut him off and kiss him slow, coaxing, and tell him you want this to be your gift to him– that you want all of him.

every touch feels more weighted than it should. his shaky hands fumble at your waist, the soft broken sounds he makes when you settle onto his lap, the way he keeps asking if he’s doing okay in the middle of you whispering how good he’s doing. it’s messy, breathless, and so sweet. you’re patient, letting him experience it slowly, letting him get lost in the warmth of you until he’s squeezing your hips harder and moving them faster on top of him.

and when he finally cums, it’s not quiet– his hips stutter hard up into yours, hands clutching at your skin like he can’t decide whether to hold on or pull you closer. he moans into your mouth, voice cracking, filling you up before he even realizes it, and you just keep kissing him through it, playing with his hair against the back of his neck while he trembles below you.

afterward he’s still breathing heavy, forehead pressed to yours, kissing you clumsy and sweet as he mumbles, “thank you. best birthday i’ve ever had.”

unscripted director's cut

unscripted masterlist | main masterlist

this is somewhere between chp 2 and 3 <3

"you're insatiable."

you can barely get the words out as satoru teases the tip of his cock through your folds, catching on your clit with each push of his hips forward. he's got two fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them to the side while he has you bent over the bathroom counter.

"funny. i was gonna say the same thing about you," he replies under his breath, so quiet you'd miss it if he weren't so close. "so fuckin' wet, baby. dripping on the fucking floor."

he presses in then, his hand splaying out on your lower back to keep you pinned. you feel the fabric of your panties snap back against you when his other hand moves to grab your hair, pulling your head up so you can see him in the mirror. your eyes are half-lidded, threatening to close as he starts to move inside you.

it's filthy and debauched and only happening because you tried on that stupid black dress he can't get enough of. you should (and do) know better.

"so fuckin' sexy," he groans, shaking his head before dipping down to kiss up your spine, letting your head drop to the counter where your cheek smushes into cold marble. his hand is still tangled in your hair, his grip tightening every time you clench around him.

"fuck, 'toru. s-so good," you hiccup out, knuckles turning white as you press them against the counter beneath you, nails scraping against it the faster he pushes into you.

"yeah? my baby feels good, huh?"

unscripted director's cut

unscripted masterlist | main masterlist

canonically this is post season 1 and pre season 2. season 2 will dive further into their relationship dynamic, but just know that their management teams mutually decided they should lay low and not publicly be in a relationship until the drama blows over. i’ve also never posted smaus before so i’m experimenting with formatting and whatnot. so excuse the simplicity :p

this is a VERY important poll.

have fun

you’re already so far gone it’s embarrassing. knees pressed to your chest, suguru’s cock buried deep, and all you can do is whimper every time he rocks his hips forward like he’s got nowhere else to be but inside you.

his hand’s curled around your throat– not tight (for now), just enough to make you feel like you’ve lost control.

“there you go,” he murmurs, voice low and sweet and dangerous, exactly how it always is when it comes to you. “just like that. pretty thing knows how to behave after all, huh?”

your nails dig into his forearm but you don’t push him away– you never do. not when he smiles like that, all patient and smug, dripping approval– like you’re doing something right just by taking him like this.

his hand tightens and loosens around your throat in a rhythm almost as deliberate as his thrusts. controlling. teasing.

you can feel how much he loves it– his breathing changes, his eyes darken. it’s not about hurting you. it’s about the power of it. the trust. the way your body responds so perfectly under him to every squeeze of pressure. he feels your pulse jump under his fingers, the way you melt when he lets up enough for you to choke in a gasp of air, only to take it away again a second later.

he lets up just a little, thumb moving across your neck to stroke your jaw. you gasp, blinking up at him with tears welling and lips parted, and it makes him groan– low, guttural, so fond it hurts.

“keep lookin’ at me like that and i’ll never stop,” he says, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “might just keep you like this. keep you full all the time. you want that, huh?”

you don’t even argue. you can’t.

you just nod. or try to. and suguru smiles like you just told him you loved him, his thumb moving again to the column of your throat, squeezing enough to make your mouth drop open.