#how can something so evil come from something this cute

[amaihoneybug]

"She cannot behave" - my friend watching me draw baby bill in class once again.

Also I just had a bday. So I made lil guy have it with me.

[tonycries]

D!LFMAS?!

Synopsis. Father Christmas? Nah, who needs him when you can have a hot D!LFY Christmas.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! D!LF! JJK men, bréeding, CREAMP!ES, age gaps, dad bods, manhandIing, cúmplay, chokíng, professor! Geto, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, cervíx kíssing, p talking, p slápping, JEALOUSY (Geto), spítting, headIocks, SIZE K!NK, thigh ríding, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Well THIS opened up something I never knew before…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - White Christmas

“Heh…how cute.” Toji’s scarred lips are puckering up into a coo at just how adorable you looked squirming underneath him like this. “Ya ready for a biiig stretch, ma?”

You’re craning a few uselessly coy smacks against his bulging biceps, ”T-Toooji—” The whines dripping from your salacious lips are just pitiful - and so is that tiny gasp let off when his heavy, blushing tip comes thwacking! down punishingly to make out with your slippery slit. “Stop teasing me…”

“Ohhh?” Dark brows raise at your babbling, “And hah- who was talking to you, my doll?”

He’s curving the fat pad of his thumb down either side of your saturated lips, wrenching out the soppiest slurps. Up, up, up until Toji’s pinching your buttony nub with an oh-so-dramatic sigh - but not targeted at you. No - at down below. “I know, right? Got a hah- real nasty girl.” He’s nodding along languidly, thoroughly in conversation between your trembly thighs. “How m’ I gonna make her a pretty momma if I don’t…teach her a lesson about talkin’ back to elders.”

God, you could almost sob. It’s been hours upon hours now. You had no idea how he still had so much stamina being older than you, but…but did you really want to complain?

Hours since you’d finished your babysitting job and tucked Megumi to bed. Pacing your familiar way up to Toji’s bedroom in a way that was entirely unprofessional. 

Hours of being pinned to the satiny mattress with the effortlessly staggering size of Toji, all hefty muscles and washboard abs that he still maintained proudly. Slipping and glissading their sultry way to scratch his fleecy chest hair down your perfectly arched back. 

Hours that still had you all desperate. Needy. 

Squeezing out a few pearly tears to lacquer the ends of your lashes in a way you knew that Toji was absolutely weak for. “P-please- jus’ want you ngh! a-all—” Rovering down a hand across the lamination of creamy cum that puddled out of your sappy entrance, your trembly digits are absolutely drenched in the overflooded remnants of cum that your gummy walls were topped up from before. “-inside me, Toji.”

And oh was he weak.

Hell, it’s like he’s melting into you from above. 

One beefy arm of his branding the curvaceous flex of his biceps around your waist. Rotund curves of his strong knees weakening, smearing further and further apart on the dampened sheets to plug you full with the globular crown of his thick cockhead. 

Eyes creasing to widen, Toji’s swiping a thick drag down your buttery walls with a syrupy pop! Followed mercilessly by a sudden slap! down the snug orifice of your sweet, sweet slit. 

Your sloppy sounds resonate against the walls sound-proofed especially for you.

“Evil young lady. We should discuss…wh-what do you think, mama?” He’s gruffing out hoarsely at your drooling cunt - and you swear you could hear his baritone lilt a few octaves higher at the sight. You swear you could hear his shatter into a whimper- “Y-you’re fuckin’ lucky, this cunt o’ yours is so hngh- damn persuasive.”

He was so good at making you embarrassed - sinking in solid inch by inch until you were utterly bruised by the sodden French kiss of his smooth tip down your cervix. Hot and hefty. Steamy gumdrops of vicious pre gliding down your throbbing g-spot.. 

Toji plants your goopy depths with a harsh battering ram. The swollen cylindrical shaft of his rummaging into you so deep - he was so fucking massive. And you think you’d never get used to it.

“Look at you milkin’ a cock you said was heh- too big. M’proud of ya.” He presses a few innocent pecks down the side of your prespired forehead, “But I’m not like those wimpy fuckin’ boys you’ve dated before, ma.” 

Fuck. You’re being headlocked with one of his big, beefy arms - jerking your stupidly lolling head up to his. He only got so much stronger with age. 

Toji’s spitting out through sexily clenched teeth - through a smile so fucking feral that it makes you pulse. “I’m n-not gonna go ngh- fuckin’ easy on ya jus cos’ you’re a little…cute.” Toji’s foraging for the elastic door to your womb, skimming his palm for that inflationary bump outlined underneath your pretty tummy. “I’m not stopping until we’re givin’ Megs a sweet lil’ sibling.’”

Pap! Pap! Pap! He’s pressurizing his thrusts with years of power, handling you easily like a ragdoll underneath him. Glomping around thick ivory tresses of seed from hours before - the squelches play out like a song to him.

“Ohhh? What’s that? Ya sure?” Toji’s eyes crinkle with sheer joy, shaggy dark bangs sticking to his forehead and showing off stray strands of silver. “Ya hear that? She said she’s gonna give me a daughter.”

He’s driving you wild. Stupid. 

“Hmm- nothing to say?” You’re hearing low titters pierce in cloudy little pants against your ear. Intoxicating. And beady droplets of sweat spatter your shoulder as Toji looms dangerously closer. “Listen to this-” SMACK! Another mean swat on your cunt. And a second. A third. Fourth- “Y-you’re still lettin’ his filthy pussy talk for ya? Lazy girl.”

Every heated pound had your pussy slewing out the most sinful squelches and then some. Watery slurps so loud that you’re struggling to mumble out over it, “S-s’not my fault— you’re just so…so…”

“Say it.” Toji’s huffing out. 

And the bed raptures with splitting creaks when he’s hiking a powerful thigh to plant firmly on the plushy mattress - gyrating his hips impossibly deeper. Hauling your bawling pussy into his bashing collides against those spots, rubbing your inner walls with his thumping veins. “C’mon, mama, use your big girl words. Aren’tcha embarrassed to be haaah- fucked so dumb by this old man?”

And he already knew that that would be all it took for your tongue to string together its first few coherent syllables. A pitchy little, “N-not- ngh- not my fault you’re so…good.”

The only thing on your mind - the only thing you can chant like a mantra when your orgasm invades you over with surprise.

The very moment those broken sounds taper off from your slack maw, you’re seeing white. Stars bursting behind your lids, when Toji’s ruddied, split tip crashes into your tenderized magical spots. Again. And again. And again and again-

“Good?” Toji echoes. Head tilting to nuzzle yours, he’s snarling his pearly canines into the apples of your cheeks and biting. “A-all that- n’ all ya hafta say is “good”? D-don’t even deserve- this-” 

You’re garbling out between each punctuating pound, rivulets of saliva spilling from between your lips. “No- no no no- please inside. I wan’ it- want it all—”

You can’t see him through that clingy glaze of lust in your eyes, but he’s rolling his eyes. Huffing out a growling, “Then you better not ah- waste a single drop. Wan’ everyyyyy ah- leering loser to know who did this.”

You’re being absolutely flooded with the thickly vicious dumps of Toji’s cum - and he always had so much to give. Sweltering hot. Sloshing around voluminous dredges that splatter down your thighs, it’s like a sticky second skin. Lathering his thick fingers in a milky sheen when he’s bullying every leaking ounce back through your bloated pussy lips. Making an even bigger mess-

And the sight only makes Toji grin, “G’nna be a real white Christmas this year, huh? A real sweet one with you, me, Megs…n’ our daughter, heh.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Santa, tell me…

“Gonna take care of you, my love” Nanami’s rich, sugar-coated tone cracks at the very end. And you can only watch as his jostled prescription glasses fog up, as his stern lower lip trembles. Smearing a wet smooch over your glossy folds once more, “Suuuch g-good care of ya.”

And he was parched. It didn’t matter how many copiously innumerable times that he’d had you before, your husband was addicted to making out with your weepy cunt. 

Plumped lips illuminated by the cozy crackle of the fireplace in your bedroom. He’s wrapping them snugly around the buttony hood of your overstimulated clit to hollow his cheeks and suck. Boring that greedily half-lidded gaze right up at you with every full French kiss.  

Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Thick fingers fisting his angrily hard cock and squeezing out a few milky smudges of pre just from tasting his dear wife’s cunt. Nanami’s blocking that seething red divot right at the very end with one of his thumbs to keep himself from cumming-

God. 

He really was going to be the end of you. 

There’s such a clingy film of your sweet sweet pussy glaze glistening across the handsome lower half of his face. Slipping and sliding wet splotches down your wrist when you’re grabbing your husband by the scruff of his silvery blond locks and dragging him upwards. 

Gruffing out a pained keen- “Darlin’, your cute cunt i-isn’t ready yet-”

He was addicted - wanted more.

“I need you, Kento–” Your fingers dabble their way to trek and encircle the broad planes of his sculptured shoulders. Nanami was hot - burning. Condensing out fevered pants as he hung onto your every word. “S’okay if you’re a little…rough.”

And oh. Oh, you were sincerely wrong - you were going to be the death of him.

Because Nanami’s lazily sliding his strawberry pink tongue to lap at the honeyed glaze of your slick on his lips. A few fingers - including the one with that gorgeous golden wedding band of his - drag across your chin to pry out your lolling tongue and suck. Tasting yourself. 

“Always so impatient.” he’s tutting, always so careful. So concerned over you, especially since you’d had your two daughters. But Nanami Kento would never say no to his wife - never say no to you. Never has. Never will. “Rough, huh? Y-ya sure you can handle it? Don’t wanna…break you, honey.”

“Y-you won’t–” you’re huffing, trembly thighs enraptured around his soft waist. 

The years had done Nanami well, and you couldn’t kick off that comically red Santa coat and hat off of him fast enough - still on after surprising your young kids with it earlier today. You could only gape at the way his hard muscles had tenderized into a dad body that was so plump. So strong. So sexy. 

Squealing when his fattened pink head thwacks! right down the treacly middle of your sopping lips. Thumbing in a thick fingerpad until he’s fully and thoroughly inspecting your gooey hole, “Such a cute cunt, g’nna break her with my ah- cock, my love.”

And ah how he secretly loved whenever you’d whine those pretty pleas at him that way. Lips cutely pouted out until he chuckles with a dark, “Haaaah- arch that back a little more f’me, my wife.”

Calloused mountains of his palms massage your perfectly curvaceous spine to help your slobbery pussy swallow down every sopping swab of his globular tip at your gummy insides. Trickling out wet drizzles of intoxicating creamy pre at your doughy cervix.

Oh, this. 

This stretch had your mind filled with only cottony buzzing, maw slacking eagerly to beg out needily for more more more-

“Yeahh that’s it- F-fuuuck-” Nanami’s sweat-glistened skin wrinkles as he’s letting his head tumble backwards, glassy eyes sprinting to the very back of his lids. “Yeahh? You’re my b-big girl, right? Mhm- then take- it- like one-”

And shit, you did - you always did. And Nanami thinks he feels himself falling in love all over again. 

Planting a purposefully sappy little smack! right on the fleshy peek of your clit to make your knees weaken. It’s so unfairly attractive the way he’s shrugging off the rest of that costume Santa coat to leverage that lecherous little advantage and drag your jittery legs on top of his strong deltoids. “S’gonna m-make it easier. Trust me.”

So powerful. You’re being manhandled like a fucking doll - and treated just like one, too. 

Tawny happy trail massaging your oh-so-aqueously driveling slit, Nanami’s round tummy presses into you as he pins you hopelessly down, down, down into such a mean mating press. He’s pressing an innocent kiss to your ankles, pounding in a way so angular that it makes you halfway scream-

THUD!

“Shhhhh shh shh…hush a little, honey.” You’re blinking up through tear-clinged lashes at that attractive dimple cratering its way onto the very edge of your husband’s smile lines. Sweat-glossed forehead bumping sweetly into yours, “You’re gonna wake the ngh- girls up. And right now I…”

He’s trailing off - losing himself and his sanity into the way your mushy walls were swirling all around him. Every sploshing dab of his plumply swollen crownhead cuddling your bruised g-spot. Heavy, cum-filled balls stinging a permanent bruise against the curve of your ass, his massive arms around your legs.

But not just outside. No, Nanami was marking a thick circumference so deep into your spongy cervix - and even the recoil, even every singular bounce back of his rotund shaft away from your gluey depths had him hissing.  

“I- I need…” 

Fuck, the pure need and fatigue is radiating off of him in desperate waves. Contagious. Your only option is to lock your ankles more vice-like around his slightly overgrown undercut and take it when Nanami streams out a melty wad of spit right onto your tastebuds.

Ah, and then you’re swallowing. Letting him kiss away the translucent splatters of remnants near the corner of your mouth - and ah, Nanami’s so in love. 

He’s clasping one set of fingers to design unintelligible I love you’s on your plummy clit, the other intertwining with your left hand to leave a pretty peck right on your matching wedding ring. “-I need you…all to myself right now.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - A++

“Now now, let’s see…question four wrong-”

“Sugu-”

“-question five, only two marks-”

“Sugu–”

“-question six. Skipped.”

“Suguru.”

And oh, how much Professor Geto Suguru was having fun with this. 

With you - his favorite TA from the Biology 101 course - and your utterly messy thighs draped over one of his muscular ones, precarious fingers nimbling to clutch onto his pristine vest. Begging, pleading with every bat of your trembly lashes. 

You’re glomping his fleshy mounds of skin with your drooling cunt, laminating every bump and muscle with a dripping slide of velveteen slick after every lewd grind. “P-please….sir– jus’ wan’ your cock already.”

Needy. 

“How crude.” Geto’s pushing his reading glasses up his regal nose-bridge, pretty pink lips coming up into a snarl that only makes your teary cunt throb even harder. Your own exam papers being flicked onto his office desk in front of him, he’s twiddling his thumbs along the flimsy hem of your skirt. “And for those appalling answers, three more minutes.” 

Whining, “But-”

“Did I stutter?” Antique metallic wristwatch so bone-chillingly cold when he’s snugly wrapping his fingers around your tender throat. Tight. Softly bouncing his knee - and you with it, “Can’t even handle ridin’ my thigh - how are ya gonna handle my cock, gorgeous?”

And it might have been three minutes - it might have been hours - until Geto Suguru finally found a correct answer on your tough finals paper. Finally found something he was satisfied with enough to slam! you bent over onto the sleek mahogany of his desk and stuffed stupidly full-

“Tch- look at what a mess you made~” he’s sighing out, breathing hot promises down into your ear in a way that makes your glutinous walls cling like adhesive onto his angry, throbbing shaft to milk him even harder. “Slobberin’ all down my thighs- how are you gonna hah- make up for it, huh?”

“I don’t- I don’t know–” You can barely even think. Jumbling out messily slurring syllables of Geto’s name with every sodden pap! pap! pap! 

SMACK!

Geto’s long, merciless digits swat your gulping entrance with a mean smack. Brimming his soft fingertips over the raised imprints, he’s throating out, “What do you know, hm? Anythin’ else in that pretty head of yours other than hah- wearin’ the s-sluttiest skirts possible to my class?”

Oh. That makes you whirl your head up with a guilty whimper, “Wh-what do you- ah!”

He might be hold but Geto wasn’t the least bit nicer.  

Surprising you with yet another thwack of his hand on your ass, and a few more copious loads of glossy precum unloaded onto your doughy cervix. “Exactly what I said…” And he’s dragging you down with one roughened hand latched onto your neck, sullying your slobbery pussy with a fat drag down your g-spot. “Those fuckin’ skirts- so tiny and thin. Can see your fucking panties from my d-desk. Tell me- who are ya wearin’ those hah- for.”

Shit - his dewey eyes are dripping over to one right there tattered on the floor. 

Gasping, heaving, hunching over to pin your squirming body down hard onto the slippery platform.

Geto Suguru was so big. Pudgy abs skating down your back, slinking you into a trail of soft tufts of black-

“S’it for that ah- loser fuckin’ boy ya s-sit next to?” He’s spitting, tumbling out condensely from his lips. Mature eyes creasing as his gold-rimmed glasses slip. “Or for that flirty fuuuuck- group p-partner of yours…o-or…” And you can only gulp - you can only keen when he’s letharging his vicious hips just enough to keep pressing a hard probe into your mushy g-spot. Holding it still. “-for me, gorgeous?”

Who else would it be for? Professor Geto was the tattooed, unattainable eye-candy of the entire student and teacher population. Well…almost unattainable. 

And you make it known - you’re curving your back so malleably into Geto’s hold. Letting his sweat-soaked undershirt drag down your arched spine. Heartbeat pumping like a drumbeat in your ear with every sodden thwack! of his globular cockhead.

Jaw slacking pathetically open to whine, “Y-you—” Shit- how dangerous. Those cutely slutty noises of yours are such a threat that he’s pumping your mouthy orifice with a few ringed fingers, “O-only for you, sir.”

Yeah, real dangerous.

“Well then…” Geto’s forced to take a second - two - to gather his wits, his sheerly melty brain enough to grin a sleazy grin. “-how about I give ya l-little lesson, young lady.” Smack! Smack! Smack! into the goopy soft spots of your cunt. With his free hand, he’s swiping away the slightly grey-streaked locks of long inky hair. Serious. “About how a real man fucks.”

And he’s fucking you like he hated you - like he was trying to meld you into the littering exam documents on the desk that you’d so absolutely flubbed. 

“O-oh my god, Suguru—” Your tongue’s lolling out openly, pupils flying in criss-crossed little patterns even he’s hitting your poorly bruised g-spot again. And again. And again and- “Feels s-so good- m’not gonna last long.”

But ah your mistakes on the exam might have been…on purpose - but the way that you’re scrambling your trembly hands down to mindlessly smear your saturated pussy flaps further open - to try and greedily swallow up even more past his hefty hilt - was definitely not. 

“Ah ah- none of that.” Geto’s tutting, your hands being swatted away by one of his much larger ones. Staggering fingers plugging your bulging pussy lips with a slowly drawling line from the edge of his thumb. Pulling out - just for a sloppy split-second - to slap his fatly swollen head on your gloopy slit - before bullying your sappy entrance doubly full with both his pulpy length and his swirling digits. 

“Move that fuckin’ hand, gorgeous, n’ stop being hahh- shy around ol’ Professor Sugu, hm? If ya want more-” You can’t run away - you can’t even try when he’s hiking up one powerful thigh onto the desk to drag you into every squelching slam! Every rut - you’re reeled in. Deeper and deeper. Strong, dexterous fingers curving to press into your forbidden magic spots. “-then just heh- raise your hand n’ ask. Any questions?”

Glomping out a sweltering hot rope of precum when you actually do - hand trembling, piping up a small, desperate. “Can- can I have it…inside, sir?”

Oh, you’re being positively crushed by his broad planes of muscles. Hot. Feverish. Geto’s only pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “F-for my hngh- valedictorian- of course.”

And when you’re crashing into your high, Geto’s holding you so tight. Riotous hips fucking you through each and every dizzying wave of your orgasm, making you see stars-

“Get ready, girl.” You can hear - but with the black tinging the edges of your vision, you can barely see. “Bet no other boy has f-fucked ya like this, huh?” At your delirious headshakes - shit, do you even realize what you’re doing right now? He was fucking you so dumb. “Gonna cum- gonna fill ya up so hard ‘ntil those wimps know to stay back from…my girl.”

Then you feel like you’re bursting, your elastic walls tugging tautly to their limits when Geto’s pumping out torrential heaps upon heaps of thick, creamy seed. Sloshing around your insides and icing your resinous depths in such murky ribbons of cum.

So much - too much that it’s spilling out from the very brim of your sopping slit. 

And Geto only hums at the branded little gashes of his fingers and his watch on your throat - before sinking in his sharp canines for good measure. 

Stepping away - carefully - to flip you over and smear your legs shamefully splayed out on the desk. Dripping. Slobbering. He kneels until he’s only inches away-

“Let me teach ya another mmpf- lesson, gorgeous.” And Geto could barely talk with how utterly ravenous he was, deeply gulping in the heavenly musk of your pretty pussy. Tongue slackening. Drooling. “A lesson in h-heh…squirting.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “M-mommy?”

Fuck. 

Choso didn’t mean to let that slip out right now - in fact, he wouldn’t ever at all. 

Startling those pretty hazel eyes of his, he’s urgently blinking away the last remaining dredges of thorough pussydrunkenness. Sitting up from the sodden, velveteen sheets with your rawly glissading body on top of him in tow. 

Pretty coral red lips sagging and stumbling around blindly for words - and not just because your greedy hips were still caressing your melty inner walls with his furiously achy cock. “I-I’m hngh! sorry, baby, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t say I didn’t ah- like it, Cho–” you’re slithering your hands through his damply prespired scalp, and it makes Choso halfway purr. Leaning into your touch with a hiccuping few ruptures of his bawling cockhead into that sweetened spot. Chuckling, “If I’m ‘mommy’, then does that make you hah- my good boy?”

Oh.

Oh. 

And you didn’t expect this. 

Didn’t expect the way that Choso’s half-lidded eyes would glaze with a thin veil of delirium, letting those meanly-latched hands around your waist loosen for just a split-second to let your hips bounce back into his. Resonating out a proud smack! when the girthy curve of his pulpy mushroomy tip drills a fat, syrupy smooch against your cervix, “I- d-don’t-”

He can’t even finish his sentence - his string of thoughts.

Because Choso’s sculpted pecs heave once. Twice. Before he’s hiccuping out a strained mantra of your name, pouring out hot, creamy dredges of cum that slick your cushiony channel. Just from that singular word.

Clinging onto your gooey insides like adhesive - hot. Heavy. You can feel the weight of it sloshing vehemently inside you in viscous ribbons when you when Choso folds himself in half and bites down onto the precious nook of your neck. 

“Don’t s-say that.” he’s whimpering out, dragging his stupidly lolling tongue out in a lazy lick down the indenting bruise. Before lathering the very same tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, “Makes me…nervous.”

And he was embarrassed - so, so embarrassed to be cumming early. 

But oh, the way those ivory rivulets paint creamy rings upon rings around his dark happy trail makes Choso’s mouth coat itself in pathetic drool.

“Awww, no need to be so ngh- shy, baby.” Your fingers tilt his droopy face up towards yours - and just one look into your eyes is enough to make Choso’s handsome cheekbones flush a bright cherub red. A few more treacly globs of seed glomping out and dripping their oozy way down your walls. Teasing, “If you ah- want I could call you daddy-”

“No-” his lower lip juts out in a pout, nose crinkling up oh-so-adorably. And you’re stuck pearing downwards in utter wonderment as his pretty plump lips encircle around one of your hardened nipples and sucks. Batting those long lashes innocently up at you, “B-but you could…make me a daddy.”

And was this really your dearly beloved boyfriend? 

Are you sure?

Because he was fucking his powerful hips up into you so nastily, throat cracking with a juggular ah! ah! ah! every time your sugar-coated squelching rang messily in his ears. Your hips were relentless - milking him so good that widely splashing tears were collecting in his eyes-

“D-didn’t think you wanted- ah!” Careening your cockdrunken head backwards when he’s sagging his dazed head on top of your chest, mouth lathering your poor nipples with a silvery coating of saliva. “-a b-baby, Cho—”

But, oh, he did. 

He always did - ever since the day he met you, and you’d been such a sweetheart to Yuji. That’s when he knew-

“R-really?” Your whispering voice was barely audible - yet, Choso knows he’ll always be able to pick out your voice anywhere. It’s snapping him out of his reverie, making him realize that he was talking out loud. Shit. 

“R-really.” Choso’s nodding - nodding and nodding so much harder with every plunging shovel of his inches down into your gooey cunt.  Hiccuping, “Always. Always w-wan’ed to breed my sweet girl’s hngh! nasty pussy.” With every punishing brand of his swabbing cockhead discovering open your cloggy insides. Sheathing himself with sticky peck after peck against the elastic door to your womb. He was so drunk now. “To have our own fuuuuck- babygirl. W-with your eyes n’ my hair a-and- and then a another girl and a boy and-”

God, it was a wonder that Choso was tumbling into his orgasm sooner with just how much he was talking himself insane.

Weighty, condensed pants of air strangling in his chest and suffocating him just as much as he was suffocating himself between your pretty tits. 

Moaning - whimpering with every spurt of thickened seed that shoots from his rotund, bawling divot and cobwebs way into the slushy bottom of your pussy. Choso’s swollen, upright curve made it so easy for him to paint every single nook and cranny with a glutinous luster of his cum. 

“O-oh– I made a mess, mommy-” It’s spilling out - frosting a slippery vanilla sheen down to the hefty, cylindrical base of Choso’s cock. Soiling the slender few digits that he’s rovering down to your soppingly wet slit, the steaming hot sap so sinful that it only makes Choso suck on your bruised and battered nipples harder. “Wh-why is nothing…”

Ah, he looks so sorrowfully disappointed. 

You can’t help but run your fingers through Choso’s sexily tangled bangs, accidentally tugging onto a clingy lock - making him cum. All over again.

Until he was running on mere fumes. Globular head swirling out nothing but a dry orgasm, you’re being spattered with wispy little pearls of his cum that help him slip and slide his still-hard shaft into you. 

Humming, “Hahhh- nothing is gonna c-come out yet, baby–” Snickering at Choso’s broken whine, “But you were such a good boy f’me today, y’know?”

He’s gasping eagerly, and that innocently fucked-out expression smeared all over Choso’s face was so lecherous. Practically bawling now - big spherical tears of his cascading when he sighs, “A good boy? Oh, s-so heh…maybe in nine months?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - X(XX)-mas

“What a greedy little thing…” And if this was anyone else they’d have been scared speechless by the rumbling purr of something animalistic in the king’s baritone. They’d have been trembling - and you were, too, but for a much, much different reason. “Look at ya- g-gettin’ fucked stupid by only one cock n’ now you’re begging for ah- both?”

And it shouldn’t be a surprise to you that Ryomen Sukuna was strong - two of his staggeringly beefy arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and manhandle you down from all fours and into a rude prone bone. “No one in a ah- thousand years has ever even thought of taking ‘em both.”

Though, you certainly wanted to. Which is why even after marriage and already having two sons with him - you were pleading for both. 

And, well, after a thousand years - Sukuna himself would start feeling curious, of course. Not that he’d ever admit it. 

“S-Sukuna-” you’re lolling your head up a mere few inches off the saliva-lathered royal pillows - as far as it could go in your half-drunken state right now. 

“S-S-Sukuna—” Groaning voice tilting oh-so-dramatically a few octaves higher - it only got so much sexier with age - he’s simply bursting into a bout of taunting snickers. “Fine fine. Honestly, fuckin’ filthy- aren’t ya? Dunno why m’so surprised after this is the pussy that made me a daddy…heh. C’mon, beg- beg n’ I might just ah…play nice.”

One of his ruddied cockheads plunges past your saturatedly smearing folds and thumps a fat collision into your poor g-spot. So hard that it has you scrambling blindly for the splintering headboard, whimpering at the heated weight of his other shaft resting down your arched spine. It dollops out a generous, warm helping of puddling precum down your arching spine. Waiting. Wanting. 

“M’begging–” you’re gritting your teeth, pout simpering up at him. Exactly the way he liked it. 

“Hmmm, can’t hear ya-” Sukuna rolls his devilishly red eyes, a third out of his four hands guiding the sappy divot of his second cock to cling a few ropey wads of pre down your already overfilled slit. Bulging. He’s cupping his ear with another to hear, “Louder, brat.”

“I want-”

SWAT!

Five thick fingers brand their cylindrical markings onto the fleshy mound of your ass, jolting you to spearhead your gummy cunt in feral little grinds. “Please! Kuna-”

And then the next few syllables spilling from your mouth are nothing but sounds of utter disappointment, hiccuping out from your thoroughly slack maw. Because Sukuna is taking his languid time slowing down, wrenching out a few syrupy slurps. 

“Easy there, silly girl.” Only for you to feel like you’re being split-apart. To feel like you’re about to explode- a hefty-handed palm smoothing over your gaping mouth, “Shhh, yer g’na wake the heh- kids up.”

You can’t even be mad - you can’t even snap back at Sukuna, because he was giving you everything you wanted. 

Bullying in the peached curve of his plump second cock with a sodden wet smack down your sloppy entrance. Pumping in inch by inch with every slight swivel of his shaft - and the stretch was absolute heaven. 

Being trapped down underneath Sukuna’s weight - you could choke from the sheer sinful heft of him and you loved it. Muscles upon padded muscles that were softened with the pudge that came with being such a doting dad. Even if he was still in denial about the doting. 

Your clingy walls swashing Sukuna’s swollen cocks in a viscous glaze of your sweet, sweet slick. Oozing and riveting down between his rigorous lengths - he was so massive. Tauting out your sung channel until you could feel his every lightning bolted vein down the side massage into your gooey walls. Every cranny, every unimaginable sweet spot being rubbed in a sultry back and forth back and forth back and-

Sukuna’s planting another teasing smack! on your ass with a breathless cackle. In disbelief. Rubbing over the slightly swollen imprint with his overgrown blackened nails, “Atta girl, jus’ a few inches more n’ ya ah- got it.”

A few inches that felt more like a lifetime. 

It’s almost never-ending how every new jackhammer into your slobbering cunt had Sukuna supplying centimeters upon centimeters more of his double lengths. The matching fleshy tips streaming out glutinous wads of pre splattered into your cervix every time you took him so well. 

So much.

And it was driving him mad. 

“Heh, not b-bad for a lil’ human-” Sukuna’s strangling out, a few stray fingers pushing back the pink locks plastering to his sweat-lacquered forehead. “After a thousand years- a-a thousand. This pussy really is made f’me, huh?”

God, the notorious king of curses thinks he might just faint right about now. 

Eyes wrinkling in pure bliss at the sodden feeling of your pretty pussy gulping him up, the bulging outline of his own cocks massaging against each other when rummaging your teary orifice.

And all he can think about is you.

You you you with your teeth biting adorably into the silky covers of the decadent royal pillows. Waterfalls of tears blubbering down either side of your cheeks that Sukuna can’t help but free his long tongue to lick in pure savor. 

You, with your hips jostling helplessly to and fro into the deafeningly stinging cadence of his strong hips. Years of weathered battle pressurized into fucking you like it was the first time Sukuna ever had. 

And in a way it was - you’d never been so spearheaded vigorously open before. Dual battering rams of his stacked shafts plunging into your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving behind branding little swipes of ropey precum. Sukuna can’t help but scour one engulfing hand down - manifesting his second tongue onto that particular palm and dragging down the teary sap drooling from your thoroughly full slit. 

You, all round and glowing-

“S-so…” And if you heard the way that Sukuna’s voice shatters into a zillion voicecracks towards the end then you can’t tease him for it. Because the pounds he plants are so punishing. Thorough. Clearing his throat to babble - yes, babble out, “How’d ya feel a-about ah- rulin’ over those scum curses with three heirs. Or maybe four heh…five…or-”

♡ GOJO SATORU - MISTLETOE!

Gojo Satoru would buy you anything and everything. 

That pretty designer dress you looked at? Bought and tailored to your exact measurements - at least, it was before ending up in mere tatters. It’s fine, he’ll buy you four new ones, anyway. That expensive hotel you got caught searching up? Already splayed out on the silken sheets of its most decadent suite, Gojo fucking you into that very mattress like he was daring you to make the neighbors file noise complaints. 

And that pretty diamond ring? Well. 

“So beautiful, s-sweetheart.” Gojo’s voice simpers off in a drawled-out chuckle. Drunken. Pearly white teeth baring in a messy clash of a kiss against your decorated left ring finger. “The ring’s not heh- half bad, either.”

Oh, you looked so pretty and his that Gojo’s fatly plumped-up tip can’t help but butter your puckered hole with a few creamy swipes of pre. Swirling around in a few messily thick circles before pumping you lecherously full once more. 

You didn’t even know how he still had the stamina-

“T-Toru—” your fingers embellish angry red marks down his arched back. Dragging his smoothly pale back muscles and leveraging his soft pudgy tummy over yours. “Harder. Hngh- need you in s-so deep.”

“Deeper? Deeper?” He’s breathing - hissing at the gummy cling of your tugging cunt. And Gojo’s brawny arms had only grown more powerful with age, wrangling your thrashing legs up onto his broad-planed shoulders and squeezing you bent into rubbery halves. “My nasty girl, wan’in so badly t-to ngh- lock me down, huh?”

But oh, Gojo Satoru sounded so utterly elated at the idea. 

Greedy. Yearning. 

Smooching a few pretty pecks at the exact depraved tempo of his sloppy snogs against your cervix.

You could feel his rippling muscles underneath his softened abs, feel the cushiony press of his plush pecs - only grown attractively bigger over the years. The positively slathered meady topping of Gojo’s precum inside you sloshing around torrentially with every pound.

“W-well you’re the one that already ngh- bought me a ring.” You’re huffing out, just as soon as your spellbound tongue can gather together enough coherent syllables. Gliding your fingers through the faint streaks of grey infiltrating his cloudy white, it makes Gojo throw his head back with a pure whine. 

“Don’ act like you ah- don’t like it, my girl.” And oh, the pure output of his cursed energy is just right enough that when Gojo smacks! two slender digits down on your clit it makes you sob. “See? This cute cunt s’always so honest with me…how cute.”

“S-such a filthy mouth.” Yet, you’re the one bucking your gyrating hips up more and more to make your saturated cunt speak out syrupy slurps in various high volumes. 

And Gojo knows - oh, how he knows. 

Because in a split-second, you’re being shut up. You’re having those very same roughened fingertips scour their way between your pouty lips and draw a few messy smears of your sweet, sweet juices down the back of your throat. Making you choke- “Hmmm, n’ yet- you still love this ah- ‘filthy mouth.’”

You’re just about to snap back something that’ll make the pussydrunken older man above you huff and puffy - that is, until your mouth is flooded with something of a gasp. 

Eyeing the pretty glittering mistletoe hanging off the mahogany headboard that was decidedly not present just a split-second ago. And you can only batter Gojo with a flash of your narrowed eyes, “Satoru…”

“Whaaat? I didn’t do hahah- anything.” 

Yet, you could see the way his eyes wrinkle with amusement and guilty bolts of blue lightning - his powers. Thrumming with every burling sludge against your needy cervix, every tiny mewl that you’re mindlessly letting off with the pulpy slaps of his cum-filled balls against your perked ass. And Gojo’s letting his practised reversed curse energy seep into you overtime when he’s bending down, down, down. Strawberry-pink lips puckering in sugar-coated delight. So amused. “B-but you know what they say…when under the mistletoe…”

And it wasn’t just one kiss - not even two. 

“Mistletoe-” he’s whispering, tugging on your spit-slicked lower lip. Then your tongue, “Mistletoe-” Back to stealing your cute lips, swallowing every sinful noise. “Mistletoe…” Along with a bouquet of more and more sweltering kisses curving his left-leaning shaft to maze its way against your puckered g-spot. “M-mistletoe….heh.”

Not until you’re feeling dizzy with the sodden swipe of Gojo’s pinkish tongue, smearing his candied taste as he claims your sweet mouth. Filthy. Not until then does he finally pull apart, smacking away the sticky ropes of spit - only to pry open your drooling maw and dribble a sultry rivulet of saliva.

You can’t do anything but swallow, peering right into Gojo’s matured sapphire gaze-

“H-holy shit…g’nna make me ah- cum early with that-” he’s hissing, snarling. So fucking mighty with each sledgehammering collision into your sensitive g-spot. “Fuckin’ dangerous ya are. M-makin’ even the strongest lose dammit-”

You’re nodding - babbling. “M’also- ah- also…”

“Nuh uh, use those ngh- big girl words if you’re p-playin’ in the big leagues, sweetheart—” Being blessed with another sudden sopping smack! Tinged with only more crackling jujutsu. “I believe in ya. Fuuuck- use that pretty mouth now.”

“M’also- not gonna last.” You’re shrieking out, legs clamoring to tighten with the vicious tempo of Gojo’s cadence. The heat pooling in a tight bubble at your stomach only grows twofold when you hiss, “C-cum inside, Satoru?”

And you sounded so adorable - so whimpery with big, bulbous tears molting at your eyes with every jackhammer. So gorgeous with your dribbling lips parted - on both ends. So very his. 

“Heheh- s’alright, sweetheart. S’alright-” he’s grunting into your open mouth, and you could almost taste the saccharine desperation wafting from him. The pure need. “Satoru here’s not gonna hah- miss.” Heavy hand patting the cylindrical outline embedded deep into your tummy, “I have a s-safe spot alllll safe n’ sound here.”

And the last thing you see are those sexy, faint smile lines of his beaming down at you before you cum.

Sparking out pure heavenly white behind your eyelids when you’re crashing into your orgasm so hard that Gojo’s pinning you down with all his bodily weight to drill you through your high. To make you take it.

“W-watch out, my girl-” your cottony ears pick up over that blissful buzz echoing across your empty head. And Gojo’s rams grow sloppy. Oversaturated. “S’gonna be…hngh- a bit of a stretch.”

“A bit” was way underestimating it, almost sinfully so. 

Because if you thought that your springy walls were already alcoved to its maximum while all solid inches of Gojo’s cock was being driven into you - then you weren’t ready for the inflationary stretch of his cum.

Thick, spacey wads of his gooey cum that dribbles down your walls. They’re so hot and weighty, sinking your hips up and down, splattering steamy splotches down your inner thighs. 

And Gojo’s clasping your jittery ankles behind his fashionable undercut with only one of his hands, holding you trapped so that he can flood invasive wiry ribbons of seed. Have you filled to the brim and dazed-

“Ohhh, I love you- L-look how much.” he’s straining out - veering into the dangerous territory of giggling humorlessly. And you already know it doesn’t bode well for you when Gojo’s landing a massive palm down on top of your pretty lower tummy to push. Making such a mess - but you can’t act like you don’t like the heavenly sight of him spilling out of you.

“So like…h-heh. Wanna make me an actual DILF, sweetheart?”

A/N. Need a DILF to take care of me- I mean WHAT.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[des2dream]

IndieAnimationDay Highlights✨

Say 'Yay'! It's IndieAnimationDay! A day to celebrate all those independent animators, storyboard artists, cleanup animators, writers etc. out there because we all know how difficult it is to work on animation. We also know how difficult it is to be given dreadful deadlines, people not crediting your work, and dealing with the presence of A.I. Today is the day to celebrate those who give it their all to make something all their own without anyone holding them back! I have three special projects I'd like to highlight for this occasion.

1. Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl!✨🌃🧀

In our first installment, we have an upcoming animatic project, Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl created by @kianamaiart. Our main character, Aika is an optimistic & excitable teenage girl eager to try new things....as long as one of those new things doesn't involve being a magical girl. Well, too bad for her because she is now "The Chosen One" and has to stop Lady DeVoid from plaguing the world in darkness with the help of her star being aid, Hoshi and her new manga-loving friend, Zira. I love this concept so much! As someone who enjoys watching Sailor Moon (the catalyst for Magical Girls), it's such a fun idea to see how much these familiar magical girl tropes will get shut down by either Aika or any other characters. I also really love the character designs, the art style, and the voice cast. We have the voice actresses for Mirko in My Hero Academia and Madoka Magica (one of the other popular Magical Girls)! You should also check out the rest of the cast. I'm so excited!

2. Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy👽🌌🌟

For our next installment, we have an upcoming animated pilot, Lumi and the Great Big Galaxy created by @starteas. The story has a group of alien friends traveling the galaxy in order to help a lost star named, Lumi find their way back home. As soon as I saw this, it gave me Wander Over Yonder vibes which is cute because it's actually one of the inspirations for this pilot. The same thing goes for Steven Universe! Two animated shows that I love so much! Starteas had been working on this pilot for a long time and you can tell if you've seen their art over the years with how much the character designs change. I feel like I'll really enjoy this cast of wacky characters and I'm more hooked on the supposed villain, Void who has one of the best designs for a bad guy. This pilot looks so cute! I have a feeling I'm really going to enjoy it!

3. Knights of Guinevere💙👑🗡

Here is our last installment! Created by @danaterrace (creator of The Owl House), John Bailey (writer in The Owl House & Future Worm), & Zach Marcus (writer, storyboard artist, & designer/The Owl House & Star Vs. The Forces of Evil) comes the next future animated pilot, Knights of Guinevere. The project is also partnered with Glitch Productions (making this their first 2D animation). We don't have much context on this pilot, but it does involve a space princess in a theme park called, Park Planet. As for the premise, my guess is it may involve the princess not being what she seems, a woman stuck in a fantasy simulation, or maybe the princess is a broken-down robot continuously stuck as a mascot. We won't know until later, but I am excited for what's to come since it plans to be released sometime later this year. I've been a fan of Glitch's previous successful animated shows like Digital Circus & Meta Runner, so I hope this will turn out well in the end.

Happy IndieAnimation Day, everyone! You have the ability to make your dreams come true and I find animation to be one of the best forms of creation and storytelling. Even if you're not an animator, you're still capable of creating what you want. Art is everywhere and it is beautiful!

[svnriseblvdd]

neighbour! clark kent x new girl! reader

the highly requested expansion on this post, in which your neighbour clark kent is so helpful, and so adorably awkward that you can't help but tease him.

mildly suggestive, mdni

part one! part two!

Your parents decided to move out of the city to this small, unknown farming town for whatever reason. You're in a new place, no friends, nothing to do. Then your mother sends you to pick up a food order from a nearby farm. Thinking about Mrs Kent calling for her son Clark to come help you with all these heavy boxes and bags and this gorgeous 6-foot-something boy comes out all tall and muscular with the sweetest smile. He's in that tight white t-shirt and jeans with a belt combo, tied together with that boyish charm that has you nearly swooning as he comes over. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“Can you help carry all of this? I don't want her struggling all the way home.” 

You think that a long walk like that with someone as pretty as Clark Kent might kill you. “Oh  really, Mrs Kent-” Mrs Kent gives you a look “- Martha, it's not a problem. I don't live that far, I think I can do it.” 

“No, no, I insist. Clark will help you.” 

You look to Clark and offer a smile which he returns. Oh, he's far too cute. You're pretty sure your heart is close to bursting out of your chest. Damn the Kents and their hot-as-hell farmboy son. Damn Smallville for thrusting this man upon you. Damn the powers that be for dangling him in front of you, teasing you with his existence. 

“Thank you, Martha,” you say, and she nods with a smile before heading back inside with a goodbye and a well-wish. 

Clark bends down to grab the crates, which he stacks on top of each other, ladening his arms with bags as well, leaving a very small percentage of the order to be carried by you. “Uh, I can take some of that if you-” 

“No, totally fine. It’s not that heavy.” 

Your eyebrows raise, eyes briefly flitting down to look at his biceps, now flexed and really pressing against the confines of his sleeves. Then you blink back to reality and bend down to pick up the other bags, beginning the walk with Clark at your side. 

“I’m Clark, by the way,” he introduces himself, and you give him your name. “Right, you guys just moved here from Central City?” 

“Yeah, how did you-” 

“Not much really passes for gossip around here. So, how are you liking Smallville?” 

“Oh, it’s great. Real party town. Cream corn capital of the world, I hear,” you remark sarcastically, and Clark chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s definitely a change of pace. Not exactly a totally welcome one, but I don’t think it can get much worse.” 

“Are you not settling in?” 

“Oh, I’m settled. Totally. Just that it’s not really easy being in a new place and knowing nobody.” 

“Well, now you’ve got me.” 

“Oh, do I now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I could be a horrible person, Clark. You can’t just go around letting total strangers into your life like this.” 

He shrugs. “You know, I think it’d be a little more obvious if you were evil.” 

You hold up a finger. “I didn’t say evil, just horrible.” 

“Well, I don’t think you’re horrible either. I’d like to think I have a pretty good sense for these things.” 

“Yeah, well. You can never be too careful around complete strangers.” 

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself if you turned out to be a serial killer or a bandit or something,” Clark says. 

You eye his physique again. “Yeah, probably. I mean, what do you bench, a tractor?” Clark laughs a little awkwardly, and you feel yourself turning hot with embarrassment. “Sorry. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I wasn’t checking you out or anything. It’s just that you’re very noticeably strong.” 

He gives another one of those charming smiles. “Don’t worry, you’re okay.” 

Somehow, it seems Clark is more embarrassed by the situation than you are. 

And when you finally reach your house, and Clark helps carry everything inside, you decide to test something. 

You’re putting away something in a low cupboard, bending at the waist, ass right in front of him, and when you stand straight and turn around, Clark has turned a bright shade of red and avoids eye contact as best as possible. 

And before he leaves, you voice your gratitude, going above and beyond to tell him that you’re so grateful for him being there to help. “Thank you so much, Clark. You were so helpful. Just let me know how I can return the favour, I’ll help any way I can.” 

And then you’re giving him a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and a happy goodbye, watching him leave with empty crates and a blush on his cheeks. He’s far too cute. 

You like Clark Kent. Not just because of his smile or his biceps or eyes or hair. Because he’s kind, funny, and oh so helpful. It doesn’t hurt that you also like how he turns red. 

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Not me hitting tag limit kjhggfggjk.

Congrats on 3k!! You deserve it sooo much💌

If you have the time (and only if you have the time!) I would like to request a sort of a short bullet point fic. Or more so just your thoughts on the following: moving in with seventeen. Who is the one that labels every box? Who will live out of moving boxes for the next year. And yeah, just overall the vibes of new beginnings and promises😶‍🌫️

Pls only do write something if any of this inspires anything, if not pls don't feel burdened to write anyway!

I love your writing, so once again: congrats on the succes💗

seungcheol thinks it's one huge adventure. yes, he will be the person lifting the stupidly heavy boxes at the store. yes, he will make it a competition to build furniture as fast as possible (and race to take it all apart when you discover the desk legs are all different lengths because someone thought he could figure it out without the manual). even among the graveyard of boxes and bubble wrap and those huge styrofoam slabs he keeps chasing you with, seungcheol is happiest to lay with you on your bare, naked mattress (because he forgot to order sheets). he's planning what pictures of the two of you he wants to put on the walls. this is the first time he's owned a welcome mat and he's not even mad about it. it's all yours, together, and there's no bigger adventure than that.

his walk-in closet. bowls the perfect size for a portion of ramen, plus an egg. the lego taj mahal with two pieces missing that he insists will turn up sometime. these are some of the things jeonghan's not sure he can bring to your new apartment. it's not that he doesn't want to move in with you--he just doesn't know if he can. hell, you kissed him for the first time on the tiny futon in his living room, and he just learned it's too small for your new place. it's not until he watches you, later that day, play jenga with the toiletries on his bathroom counter because there's never been enough space for the two of you, that he realizes maybe it isn't such a bad thing to try something new. he imagines leaning you against a new sink, with that carrara marble you've been talking about, and he might even say he's looking forward to it.

you don't think there's a day you haven't seen joshua on zillow. look at my pinterest board, he'd say, and you wouldn't have it in you to ask how the hell you're affording that couch or if you really need a salt lamp that badly. you've lost count of the times your thursday nights consisted of a: your favorite chinese takeout and b: watching celebrity architectural digest videos. but joshua can't help it--to him, there's really nothing that would make him happier than waking up next to you in a bed you picked together. now if it was a midcentury modern canopy bed? even better. he can't wait to use his fancy little espresso machine to make your morning latte and grab your coat from the rack you got from that shop in LA before he kisses you before you head off to work. but they're all just things (pretty, shiny ones, albeit)--more ways he can show you the love you deserve.

junhui loves a good open house. early on in your relationship, you would dress to the nines before pretending to shop for a mansion you could never afford. junhui would comment on the door handles and the crown molding like he was a property brother, and then you'd finish the night off making out in the mcdonald's drive-thru. things are a little different now that you actually can afford a home. what if you end up not liking it? will you get tired of the wallpaper? will the closet be big enough? but surprisingly, none of this seems to matter when you walk into the house. (what's on your mind? you ask him. n-nothing, he says.) but he's really thinking about feeding you in that kitchen and spending the morning looking out those bay windows. how beautiful you'll look greeting him from that front door. needless to say, he's sold.

you find soonyoung hiding in the kitchen at your housewarming party. just an hour earlier, he was dumping cans of sparkling water in the jungle juice to make it more "adult" (as if it would erase the fact that an entire bottle of everclear had already disappeared into the mix). the hour before that, he was cleaning like a madman despite there not being much to clean yet. he held the duster the wrong way and you think he got more windex on the ceiling than on the windows. darling, what's wrong? you ask. his little, drunken hands wrap around yours so he can bring them to his cheeks. i just realized this is all ours. like, all of it, he wails, teary, and you realize he is far too many drinks down. it's only after you've sent him to bed with a water and a kiss that you really think about what he said. the hardwood floors, the duvet, the misshapen tiger plushie on the couch, him--all ours.

wonwoo is not an easy person to live with. the first three things he unpacked were, in order, his table, his first monitor, then his second monitor. then he ruined your perfectly curated aesthetic with his neon red keyboard and a gaming chair that would make any interior designer cry. the final straw is when wonwoo manages to kill the one and only houseplant you have, the single thing holding your home decor together. but he's trying, he really is. he's bought a silly little throw blanket for your couch (aren't the tassels fun? he says, wiggling the fabric between his hands). his ugly lamp has been replaced by a strange glowing cat light and there's a sticker on his computer tower. he buys a succulent and you have a little naming ceremony in your kitchen. and it lives, against all odds!

jihoon doesn't know the difference between a chaise and a sectional. cherry and mahogany look the same to him. and god forbid you ask him to choose between terrazzo and subway tile because he really thinks both of them look good and, no, he's not just saying that to make your life harder. jihoon isn't good at the hgtv stuff, but he's happy to move all the boxes. it's only when he's unpacking said boxes that he finally gets it. (the vase that came with the first bouquet of flowers he bought you. the record player you got him for your first anniversary, now fingerprinted, well-loved. matching valentine's day teddy bears, worn and baby pink.) you're standing on a stool stacked on top of another stool trying to hang a poster, and this is what home looks like.

seokmin wants to live in the ikea showrooms. you can't blame him--sometimes, when there's nothing better to do, you'll spend your afternoon in a bedroom that's not yours. seokmin will try on the lumpy blazer from the closet, and you'll beckon him to your sprawling king size bed, the one sat next to the painted on windows and floating shelves. honey, come to dinner, you'd say. he'll peek over your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle, and you open the lid to a big, steaming pot of nothing. micke or lagkapten? you ask, completely unseriously. but he's thinking about it, really thinking about it. in his mind, he's building a home together, silly furniture piece by piece, counting down to the days when you really can agonize over plants and how many drawers you want in a desk.

when you got the keys to your new place, mingyu insisted you eat jajangmyeon to commemorate move-in day. unfortunately, he failed to account for the series of delays that led to you having absolutely no furniture to move in on said move-in day. but mingyu is nothing if not a man with a plan, so he runs to the store and buys the cheapest assortment of kitchen tools and ingredients for the world's most unlikely dinner. we really don't have to do this, you laugh, the backs of your legs cold on the kitchen counter. but i want to, he insists, holding out a spoon for you to taste. we have to christen the apartment. you eventually do christen it the right way (involving: lots of tongue, even more laughter), but you might prefer, just a tiny bit, the night you sat on the empty kitchen floor and fed mingyu out of a pan.

minghao has rearranged the living room four times now. every time you walk in, it feels like you've entered someone else's house. it doesn't look right, he says, hands on his hips like his life depended on it. you don't know how to tell him they all look right, every single version. in the first version, all cardboard furniture and plastic wrap, you gave up on deciphering the wifi setup and built a fort instead. the second involved an ottoman in the walkway, which you almost immediately stubbed your toe on (and laughed so hard you cried). in the third, the couch faced away from the adjoining room, and you accidentally spooked minghao so badly he almost broke his knitting needles. but it's all perfect, every iteration, because you're doing it together--a hypothesis he's more willing to believe when you shut him up with a kiss.

don't look now, but seungkwan is buying another doodad at your local sunday swap meet. it's a small painted figurine of a bear in a nightcap, which he simply points to and says that's me. you don't have it in you to mention the fact that you're currently unpacking his seemingly never-ending assortment of doodads and you couldn't possibly know where one more would go. it's only when you're getting ready for bed that you catch the little bear in the glow of the alarm clock light. there's already a turtle with a hat in the medicine cabinet (jeju, last summer). on top of the fridge, a woodcarving that says EAT. (tj maxx, 2 years ago. it still makes you laugh). even though you just moved, all these little seungkwan-isms make home a little more home.

you wouldn't call vernon a planner. his version of housewarming is watching you play the sims. but real life doesn't have nearly as much poolside drama or five story houses--just packing peanuts and 50 page appliance manuals. aren't boxes just drawers? vernon asked you one day. no, but that's how it always starts. two weeks after move-in, vernon cooks you breakfast with a pan procured from a cardboard box. by three weeks, you know the exact box everything is in. (you still haven't been able to find vernon's avril lavigne let go album, though.) it's only when you're eating dinner on top of the box that your dining table is in when you say, vernon, baby, i think we need to actually move in. he takes one look at you, who's wearing mismatched socks and his boxers because your shorts are underneath the tv box, and his smile nearly splits his cheeks. yeah, i think so too.

if you had asked chan what his dream house looked like, he would say it had a wraparound porch, a white picket fence, and a pool. your new apartment has none of those things. the length of your bedroom is a little more than one and a half times the length of his body and he's not even that tall. if he looks out the window he can see right into his neighbor's apartment (three cats and no bitches. almost like he's living next to wonwoo). and his feet stick out of the tub. but he's learning how to live in small spaces. he likes the squeeze of your bathroom, how you have to sit on the counter if you want to both brush your teeth together. he likes the bump of your elbows when you wash the dishes together. most of all, he likes falling asleep with you slotted to his side--even in your tiny bed, he wouldn't mind having you a little closer.

[deadghosy]

Hi! I saw that you wanted 'Sly. Boys react to' ideas so I thought I'd give it a go.

How about, Slytherin boys react to a animagus!reader? Maybe they're a small common animal like a cat or maybe a fantastic/magical one like a Niffler or Thestral

-🎃

A/N: Hello 🎃 anon!! Thanks for this request💕

Slytherin boys react to an animagus!reader

Ft. The riddles, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, && Lorenzo Berkshire

Tom Riddle

When you turned into a cat in front of him…he immediately just looked up from his book with a raised brow like “wtf”

But his reaction is to just pick you up and sit you on his lap. Getting back to his book

He’s like a villain, petting you with you on his lap with an evil smile.

Oddly he will stuff you in his robe so he can go to class. Not worrying about you messing up his dorm.

You could be chilling in the room, reading a book in your human state. And out of nowhere…

“Transform into a cat. You’re coming with me.” Tom says busting into your wand with a glint of mischief in his eyes

Mattheo Riddle

Picks you up and puts you in his lap

He’s never letting you go unless you change back to Normal

But neither the less he is still holding you down and kissing your face

He’s never letting you 😭

Draco Malfoy

Kinda like Tom, he’s stuffing you in his damn robe 😭

“Sssh be quiet!” Is something he says so you won’t meow when he’s in class

Would have a bedazzled cat bed for you ☺️ soiling your human form and cat one.

He loves your both form equally

Blaise Zabini

Pets you a lot!

But he prefer you were back to human so he can physically kiss you.

As much as he loves your animal form, he loves your human form more! 🫶🏾

Theodore Nott

Meows at you 😭PLEASE HE THINKS YOU UNDERSTAND HIM BUT YOU CANT

Would lay on the ground with you and just play with you. Babying you with soft words in Italian

He feels like he loves your animal form more so he can just pet you more. He loves you! It’s just you’re so cute as a cat.

Probably buys a collar only for you to run.

Then he pulls a wand spell and makes you stay still…you scratched his hands so bad

Lorenzo Berkshire

Petting you with every chance!

As much he loves your human form, he loves your cat one because of how small, fuzzy, and adorable you. But it’s not like you arent adorable your own self.

Is cautious to let another student pet you. Specifically mattheo-

Buying a lot of cat stuff for you.

He made sure your cat bed, if you ever turn accidentally. Would be by him. 🫶🏾💕

Definitely “pspsps” at you 😭😭

He loves to give you nose boops. He finds it cute.

[dohoonie42]

Why don’t we kiss since we’re bored?

⸻

fem!reader x Jeonghan

genre: fluffy, playful romance

word count: 1.4K+

summary: Jeonghan and you, bored on the couch, turn a playful challenge into a sweet kiss-filled moment, filled with teasing and laughter.

⸻

You lounged on the couch with Jeonghan, the two of you lost in your own little worlds — him scrolling through endless dramas, you scrolling through your phone.

Every so often, you’d hear him sigh dramatically.

Another click of the remote. Another scroll through titles.

“Why are these all so boring?” he complained, tossing his head back against the couch cushions with a dramatic whine.

You smiled to yourself, not even glancing up from your screen. “Maybe you’re just hard to please, Hannie.”

He grumbled something under his breath and kept flipping through the options, clearly growing more and more frustrated.

“I’m seriously bored,” he huffed.

That’s when something popped into your head.

A post you had seen earlier on social media — a cute, teasing suggestion for situations exactly like this.

Grinning to yourself, you turned your phone off and looked at him, your voice innocent as you said, “Why don’t we kiss since we’re bored?”

Jeonghan’s thumb froze mid-scroll.

His head whipped around to look at you, eyes wide, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“What?” he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

You just smiled sweetly, watching the flush crawl higher up his neck.

He recovered quickly, flashing you a lazy, mischievous smile. “Well…” he leaned closer, “I’m not bored anymore.”

Your jaw dropped in mock betrayal.

You pulled your legs off his lap dramatically and shuffled away from him, crossing your arms.

“Wow.”

Jeonghan laughed, reaching out to grab your ankle and tug you back. “Yah, come back! I’m sorry! I was just teasing!”

You turned your nose up at him stubbornly, refusing to even look at him.

“Jagi,” he whined, sliding closer to you. “Don’t be like that…”

You stayed silent, pretending to be unfazed even as your heart hammered at how adorable he was being.

Smiling to himself, Jeonghan reached out and cupped your face with both hands, gently trying to turn you to face him.

You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to budge.

“Aish,” he muttered, half amused, half desperate.

If you weren’t going to look at him willingly, he was going to have to change tactics.

You felt the first kiss land against your neck, featherlight and warm.

Then another, a little higher — your jawline.

And finally — soft, lingering — his lips brushed against yours.

You kept your lips stubbornly still.

Jeonghan pulled back slightly, frowning.

“Yah,” he whined, voice petulant. “Kiss me back!”

You cracked an eye open, smirking. “I thought you weren’t bored anymore, hm?”

He groaned, dropping his forehead against yours dramatically. “You’re evil,” he accused. “How can you say something like that and then punish me?!”

You giggled, finally letting your hands sneak up to curl into the front of his hoodie. “Maybe you should think twice before teasing me next time, Hannie.”

But before you could retreat again, he leaned in and captured your lips properly this time — no more playful kisses, just sweet, lingering affection.

And this time, you gave in.

Melting into him, letting your stubbornness dissolve into soft laughter and gentle affection.

When you finally pulled away, both of you a little breathless and smiling like idiots, Jeonghan tucked a stray hair behind your ear and whispered, “We should definitely do that more often when we’re bored.”

You smacked his chest with a giggle, pushing him away slightly.

“Yah!” you scolded, but the fondness in your voice gave you away immediately.

Jeonghan just grinned, catching your hand before you could pull it back, intertwining your fingers with his.

“What?” he teased, pulling you back into his side. “I’m just saying… why waste time being bored when I have the prettiest girl in the world right here?”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning, but snuggled back into him anyway, letting his arm curl around your shoulders.

You felt completely at ease in his arms. Tonight, there was nothing to worry about — just the two of you, cuddled up together and enjoying each other’s company

⸻

missing my hannie guys 🥲

⸻

[carebearbussy]

𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙗𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙞𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙘!𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙬/ 𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩, 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙫𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙢, 𝙥𝙚𝙩 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨, 𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙪𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 216

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1,4K

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You don't know how you ended up here.

Currently, you were standing on the steep steps of the Zen'in estate, alongside Uraume, Kenjaku, and, well, yourself. But you didn't feel like yourself. Instead, you felt an overwhelming evil fill your system. You felt the bile in the pit of your stomach churn, and the air in your lungs suddenly gained heaviness. But of course, you were supposed to be ready for this kind of thing.

You watched Uraume dismantle a giant cursed spirit, splitting it from the inside out and freezing its insides. Their expression told you that they were indifferent to this kind of treatment. "Whats wrong Y/N? Never seen a cursed spirit bleed?" Kenjaku spoke up. "I-I have..." that was a lie. And it was clear Kenjaku knew that, but he let you have your reassuring moment.

Uraume had previously informed you about the ritual of bathing in the blood of cursed spirits. It made your head spin even thinking about it. They called you 'weak' or 'tender' for saying that. But I mean, who wouldn't be disgusted by a giant bleeding cursed spirit? The sight was downright vile.

"Y/N, Please do not keep Sukuna Sama waiting." Uraume says. "What? Where is he?" You say, trying to keep your composure. "He is down those stairs, in the bath I have prepared for him. He has ordered me to inform you upon your arrival, to come to his side. I can show you the way if you would like."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

"What are you looking at, brat? You wanna come in?" Sukuna says, staring directly into your eyes. Most of his head was submerged under the crimson fluid that surrounded him, and he had a lustful look in his eyes when he spoke to you. One of the many things that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

"I wouldn't prefer that... I don't wanna get my hair wet." Which was an obvious lie, to the truth that you were scared. But Sukuna knew you too well, and could see through your facade. And with a chuckle, he said, "Women are so dramatic sometimes. But I can tell you're lying. You're scared, is that it?" You pause and look at the scene before you. The pool of blood is at least a couple meters deep, and it was absolutely huge to your standards. "You scared of drowning? Ill hold you up then. These worries of yours are irrelevant to me. Be a big girl and get inside already."

You didn't want to seem weak in front of Sukuna, but the thing was, he already knew you were weak. So there was truly no need to hide that from him. Sukuna basically knew everything about you, as being one of the perks of being his favorite playthings. You aren't too sure how you managed to get this far into your questionable relationship with the curse, but it really happened with no negotiation. He suddenly took a liking to you and your uncoordinated self. Something about you was charming to him. How cute.

You suck in your breath and close your eyes, as you are reassuring yourself to be more brave. But as you make your descent downwards, it was hard to. Which in turn makes you trip over your steps, with a loud shriek. But as you land and fall feet first inside the water, you find yourself being held up by Sukunas arms. "Such a clumsy thing to do in front of your king." He says, clearly amused in your antics.

You start to quietly panic, as the only thing holding you up in the deep liquid is Sukunas strong hold on your thrushing body, keeping his hands attached to your waist. "Calm down already. You aren't drowning as long as i'm here." His words didn't fix your crumbling composure.

"You need my help? Or do I need to teach you how to calm the fuck down."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You couldn't think straight.

With the way Sukunas hips piled rived into yours, it turned you into a blabbing mess. He had brought you to the shallow area of the steps while still submerged. While he was siting on one of the steps, you were going practically dumb on his cock. You held onto his shoulders with each hard thrust of his hips, holding on for dear life at this point.

All that could be heard was splashing from the waves that formed around the two of you, and the squelching of your aroused pussy.

"K-kuna please-" You say as his cock continues his assault on your poor cunt, his gruff hands moving your hips up and down like a ragdoll. "Holy shit- hhahhh- I cant- Please" "Use your words, big girl." He says, a harsh hand coming up to grab and handful of your hair. "Its too much- im gonna cum soon kuna!" You say embarrassingly, hiding your face into Sukunas shoulder.

"Aw, but we just got started right?" He says with a fake pout. This little fucker. "Cmon, keep trying. You wish to please me, correct?" With a smug grin tugging his lips, he forces your head to look over your shoulder at the mess your making on his cock.

"Uraume! Get us a robe while your at it, yeah?" Sukuna yells from across the room, his eyes preoccupied on your shaking body. "At once, my lord." Uraume says, taking a leave. Uraume? Were they here the whole time? You went too blank spaced in the mind to even notice anybody else.

But your thoughts come to a halt when Sukuna stops, flips you around and ruts into you from behind, his hands snaking around your waist, head resting on your shoulder, causing you to grab onto his thighs for dear life. The relenting pace he was going at, paired with the angle he was fucking your pussy in made you see stars, indicating your soon coming release.

"Right there- shit right there! Don't stop- please-!" You held your head hanging low, too focused on the pleasure Sukuna was handing your way. "Oh my, so bossy today. Who are you to think you can order me around?" He says, low groans leaving his mouth from behind your shoulder. "Im about to- oh my god oh my god-" And with that you cum, your cunt convulsing and tightening around his length, practically milking him.

"Good fucking girl, let it all out." He says, while still thrusting into you, maintaining his relentless pace. "Stop! Too much-" You yelled, mouth hanging open uncontrollably. "You want me to fill you up? You'd want that wouldn't you. You want your kings seed?" He grabs the sides of your face, and moves his hands in and out, mimicking the movement of your mouth and saying in a high pitched voice 'Yes, I want my kings seed!'

He laughs with Uraume at this, who is standing unbothered at the sight before them. Holding two matching robes for the two of you. You couldn't help but let out loud moans from how overwhelmed you were. "You see that Uraume? Shes embarassed, its pathetic really. the poor thing isn't used to people watching." "The way she is moving tells me she is, she is overreacting really." Uraume says, observing the sight, with no lustful intentions. Your head starts shaking, trying to say you don't. "Please Kuna! I cant-

"You like when they watch? My drama queen truly." He says, slowing down his movements. "Fuck, being so good for me. Heres your reward, pet." And with a harsh groan, releases inside of your fluttering pussy, filling you to the brim with his seed, and painting your inner walls white. You whimper with your head low, as Sukuna rests his head in the crook of your neck, hands still resting on your hips.

He pulls out of you and flips you around, grabbing your chin. You are basically on the brim of passing out from how intense that was. He picks you up by the ass, forcing glops of cum to drool out of your cunt, and pool into the water. Sukuna looks amused at the piece of art he had just created.

"Good job brat. Uraume! Get us those towels, and make sure she can stand, I don't need an annoying little pet the next day."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

[pixeld0ll]

Tear you apart (Pt. 1 Pt. 2)

tags: sukuna x fem! reader, nsfw, mdni, trueform!sukuna, degradation, size kink, humiliation, they both freaky idk

an: HIIII this is my first fic in like 4 years so please bear with me!! huge huge shoutout to @cinnamorollcrybaby for inspiring me to start writing again, ur the bomb.com <3 i hope u all enjoy!!

words: 4.8k

It’s your third year at Jujutsu High, and the urge to summon Sukuna gnaws at you day and night. Ever since you first heard about the King of Curses, a part of you has been… intrigued by the four-armed, two-faced legend.

You still remember the day Maki told you about him, after teasing you for knowing so little about the world of curses. Your face flushed in embarrassment as you grabbed a strand of your hair, twisting it in your fingers—a nervous habit.

“Alright, newbie,” Maki had said, her face shifting to something more serious. “Ryomen Sukuna is known as ‘The King of Curses.’ According to dumbass Gojo, he looks mostly human—aside from having four arms, two faces, two sets of eyes. Fucking—seven feet tall or something like that.” She paused, picking up her cursed tool to sharpen it.

“He ruled in the Heian era, like, a thousand years ago. He’s the definition of pure evil. Killed thousands—maybe millions. No one fully understands his technique. He could rival Gojo, honestly.”

Your eyes had gone wide. How had no one ever told you this?

“Eventually, they defeated him—or sealed him or whatever. The story gets fuzzy,” Maki continued, placing her blade down and removing her glasses to clean them with the hem of her shirt.

“His twenty fingers were cut off and scattered. Jujutsu High has a few. Some are used to attract cursed spirits, and of course, some are in the hands of curses themselves.”

You swallowed hard, trying to picture Sukuna in your mind. Would he be grotesque, like the curses you fought on missions? Or would his ‘human’ form make him... a little sexy?

You couldn't lie—seven feet tall made your ears perk.

What the hell? You shook your head. You can’t be thinking like that. A sorcerer shouldn’t wonder if a curse is hot. They’re curses. They must be exorcised.

“…Is it possible for him to come back?” you asked quietly, half-hoping the answer was yes.

“Oh yeah,” Maki said, and your eyes widened further. You weren’t expecting that. She chuckled at your expression. “You’re cute. Your first time fighting a special grade’s gonna be fun. But yeah—two ways Sukuna could come back. First, someone eats his fingers—becomes his vessel. The second? You don’t summon him exactly—you enter his domain. Not sure how that would work, or if it even can. I mean, who the hell would wanna find out?”

You laughed softly with her, opening your mouth to ask more—but were interrupted.

“Maki! Y/N!” Panda called from the top of the staircase. “Come inside! Gojo’s got a mission debrief!”

You and Maki exchanged a glance before standing and heading toward the large cursed corpse that awaited you. But your mind swirled with questions. You made a mental note to check the library after the mission—to learn more about him.

That obsession never left.

It grew. Festered. You tried to ignore it, to suppress the dirty impulses and morbid curiosity—but one day, it became too much. You gave in. Hours turned into weeks, scouring books, blogs, and old scrolls. Your room became a shrine of obsession—papers, texts, ancient diagrams… even a blog written by someone who claimed to have contacted Sukuna before. They said the summoning didn’t fully work, but symbols appeared, questions were answered, and something watched them.

And now… here you are.

Three years later.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm, surrounded by red candles and ancient Heian-era symbols scrawled in your own blood. It hurt to collect—but the pain was nothing compared to the hunger to see him. To know him.

It’s well past midnight—close to 2 a.m.—and you've cast a veil to prevent any sorcerers from detecting your energy. You take a shaky breath, reach for the wooden box, and slowly open it. Inside rests a talisman-wrapped finger—one of his.

You bite your lip as you begin unwrapping the paper, whispering the chant you painstakingly pieced together from hundreds of texts:

"I seek the gate carved in sinew and stone, Where curse-born kings reign from bloodied throne. Let flesh wither, let truth distort, I step where the living hold no court."

"With eyes unblinking and heart laid bare, I cross the threshold—if I dare. By tooth, by nail, by cursed design, I enter the Shrine where Sukuna lies."

"Ryomen Sukuna, let the veil be torn. May my soul walk where gods are shorn."

"Open the gate. I offer my name."

"And enter now your cursed domain."

You place the unwrapped finger into a circle of blood and whisper your name into the dark.

Nothing happens.

Minutes pass.

Your eyes flutter open, disappointment filling your chest. Of course it didn’t work.

“I can’t believe I thought this would—”

Suddenly, a wave of nausea slams into you. The room spins. You stumble forward—but instead of grabbing your bedpost, your hand meets something horrifying: a pile of skulls. A river of thick, dark-red liquid flows beneath you.

You scream and jump back, hands clamping over your mouth.

“You dare to enter my domain,” a deep voice growls behind you, “and shriek like a brat—nearly louder than the thousands I’ve sliced in three. Bow before me, insolent fool… or I’ll do the same to you.”

You freeze. Your heart races as you slowly turn, legs trembling.

A figure looms behind a towering column, hidden mostly in shadow.

Four arms. More than seven feet tall. Colossal.

It’s him.

Your breath catches.

You remember something from that blog: Sukuna enjoys disobedience. Your survival instincts scream to kneel, to beg. But a darker part of you whispers: Keep going.

“…And what if I don’t?” you call out.

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, letting the blood-red light reveal his face.

“If you refuse,” he says with a sinister grin, “I’ll break your limbs, tear you apart, and feast on what’s left of your pitiful little body.”

He stands over you now, red eyes gleaming, drinking you in. His voice is cruel—yet somehow intoxicating.

“Don’t even think about running, little human. You’re nothing. A bug. A speck waiting to be crushed.” He leans in, towering above you. “So tell me—will you obey your king?”

You scan his body—your question from three years ago answered in full. Is he sexy? Hell yes.

Towering, muscled, with four arms that could break you in two. His robe clings just enough to reveal the outline of his powerful chest and abs. Four crimson eyes burn into you with heat and hunger.

You suppress every rational thought.

“I never said I wanted to run,” you whisper, locking eyes with him.

His brow raises, amused. “Oh? You have guts, insolent little thing.”

He steps forward again—closer now. So close his heat radiates against your skin. He leans down, lips nearly brushing your ear.

“You’re not afraid of me, eh?”

You gulp, trying not to tremble. “What if… what if I said I am afraid?” You look up. “And what if I said… I like that I’m afraid?”

He freezes for a moment—then smirks. A devilish, dangerous grin.

“Oh really?” he murmurs, voice low and sinful. “You like being afraid of me?”

You bite your lip, breath hitching. His massive body makes your knees weak. You stumble slightly, grabbing his bicep to steady yourself.

He growls at the touch.

“So what if I do?” you breathe, looking up at him through long lashes.

You step onto your toes, rising to meet his face. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Sukuna lets out a low, guttural chuckle—one that vibrates through the stone walls of his domain and sends a tremor down your spine.

“What am I going to do?” he repeats mockingly, his voice silk and poison wrapped into one. “You come crawling into my domain, bleeding for me, begging for my attention... and now you ask me what I’m going to do?”

His four hands move at once—two clasp behind his back again, composed and regal, while the others reach out. One wraps around your chin, lifting your face to meet his eyes, while the second hand trails slowly down your side, ghosting over your waist as if memorizing the shape of you.

“I could tear your soul apart and scatter it across the cursed realm,” he purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel the chill of his breath. “Or—” his eyes flicker, pupils thinning like a predator’s, “—I could reward your... dedication.”

His thumb strokes your lower lip, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. His eyes scan your face like he's searching for the slightest twitch of fear, the tiniest crack in your bravado.

“You’ve been watching me. Studying me. Craving me.” His voice dips lower with each word. “Why?” It isn’t a request. It’s a command.

You swallow hard, feeling your heart thudding against your ribcage like a drum of war. You should lie. You should apologize. But the part of you that brought you here, that carved your own blood into summoning circles, speaks louder.

“I wanted to see if the stories were true,” you whisper, breathless. “If a curse could be beautiful. If danger could be divine.”

His smirk curves into something more dangerous, more unhinged.

“You think I’m beautiful?” he says with mock surprise. “How quaint. Humans and their need to romanticize their own destruction.”

Then, in one swift movement, he steps even closer. You’re practically caged now—his enormous frame casting a shadow over you, the air around him thick and humming with power.

“Let’s see if your devotion is more than words,” he growls. “Prove it.”

Your lips part, the words stuck in your throat. “How—”

“You summoned me,” he interrupts. “Now submit.”

One of his hands lifts, tracing a symbol in the air that glows briefly before disappearing. You feel your knees weaken again—not from fear this time, but from the raw, oppressive aura that crashes over you like a wave. It's overwhelming, like gravity has tripled in an instant. You nearly collapse again, but his hand steadies you by your hip.

He leans in, his voice a whisper against your skin:

“Worship your king.”

He watches you tremble, your breath shallow, your thighs pressed tight. Your silence only fuels the hunger in his eyes.

Then he angles down, lips grazing the shell of your ear, voice low, guttural, and cruelly sweet:

“God, you’re so fucking pathetic.”

You inhale sharply, body going still.

“Transporting yourself into my domain just to be used,” he growls. “You wanted this. Came crawling into the lion’s den just to be ruined, didn’t you?”

One of his hands snakes behind your neck, yanking you closer until your chest presses against his rock-solid torso. His other hand slides slowly, deliberately down your body—past your waist, to your hip, fingers flexing possessively.

“You want me to destroy you from the inside out. You want to be wrecked so badly that no other man will ever satisfy you again.”

His voice dips darker, each word dripping with venomous promise.

“You want to be fucked so hard you forget your name—but not mine. No. The only name you’ll ever remember is mine.”

He yanks your head back slightly to make you meet his eyes. All four of them burn with sadistic glee.

“Ryomen Sukuna. Say it.”

You do. Weakly. Breathless.

He chuckles.

“You want me to defile you—mark you so deeply you bleed my name. I’ll give it to you. I’ll ruin you.”

He leans in until your lips almost touch, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’ll fuck you until your voice breaks, until you’re sobbing, a drooling, trembling mess who can’t even beg properly. I’ll make you scream. I’ll make you bleed. I’ll own you.”

His hand tightens at your throat—not choking, but enough to make your head spin deliciously.

“When I’m done with you,” he snarls, “you’ll be nothing but flesh. A whimpering, broken toy that exists to please me. You’ll crave my touch like a curse.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, forcing it down.

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod, barely able to breathe. Every part of you burns—fear, desire, the overwhelming thrill of submission.

“Yeah,” he hisses, grinning like the devil himself. “You would. You dirty, desperate little slut.”

He tilts his head, mock sympathy in his voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s worth it. You’ll forget everything you were. Everything you wanted. The only word you’ll know...”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours—barely.

“...is my name.”

Your breath stutters as his thumb slides down your chin, dragging it open until your lips part with a soft gasp. Sukuna hums, a low, vibrating sound in his throat that’s equal parts cruel and amused.

“So easy to break,” he murmurs, eyes devouring your expression. “And you want it. You want to be reduced to a whimpering little pet in my grasp. Filthy.”

His hand leaves your throat—just long enough to trail down your side, the weight of it scorching through your clothes like a brand. Four hands. Four points of contact. You barely register where he’s touching anymore, only that you're utterly surrounded by him. Caged.

“You’re trembling.” His voice is soft now. Dangerous. A hiss laced with anticipation. “Not from fear. Not entirely.”

You try to speak, but no words come. Sukuna notices. He always notices.

“Look at you,” he grins. “On the edge of reason. You’ve thought about this, haven’t you? For years. Dreamed of what I’d do to you. What it would feel like when I finally touched you.”

One hand grabs your jaw again, forcing you to meet his gaze. All four eyes bore into yours—two mocking, two ravenous.

“Thats right, I was aware every time you thought about me. I saw those dirty little fantasies late at night. Now you’re here. And I’m real. And I promise you this—when I’m done, you won’t want to go back.”

Your knees threaten to give out. His body is so close. Heat rolls off of him like steam from a fresh kill. You can smell the iron in the air, the faintest metallic tang of blood soaked into the stones beneath you. His domain is alive, pulsing—watching.

He steps closer still, and his lips hover a breath away from yours.

“You summoned me,” he whispers darkly. “You walked willingly into the lion’s jaws.”

He leans down, mouth brushing the corner of yours, just enough to make your head spin.

“Now beg,” he growls. “Beg to be devoured.”

And just as his mouth descends toward yours in a twisted parody of a kiss, the world around you goes darker—red lightning crackling through the shadows like veins, the temple stone beneath your feet pulsing with cursed energy. The air thickens, pressing against your skin like a second body. The veil between power and pleasure snaps taut.

Everything is trembling on the edge.

The moment before the storm.

The exact place you’d wanted to be.

You kiss him back with equal ferocity, matching his hunger beat for beat. His lower hands make quick work of your oversized t-shirt, claws slicing through the fabric like it’s nothing more than paper. The sudden tear and the rush of cool air against your bare skin draw a gasp from your lips—but he doesn’t waste the opportunity. His tongue slips into your mouth, skilled and unrelenting, claiming every inch as if he owns it. Which, in this moment, he does.

A helpless whimper escapes you, and the sound earns a guttural, possessive growl from deep in his chest. His upper hands find your breasts, easily engulfing them—his fingers rough, greedy, squeezing with a pressure that borders on painful. You arch into his touch even as you flinch, the sensation overwhelming in the most intoxicating way.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down the column of your throat, licking and biting with the same cruel precision he likely used to kill a thousand men. When he finds a particularly sensitive spot, you moan, voice hitching—and the smirk that spreads across his lips against your skin is unmistakable. He’s found your weakness, and now he plans to exploit it.

Without warning, sharp pain rips through your neck as his fangs sink into your flesh. Your eyes roll back, the coppery tang of your blood mixing with the heat of his breath. You cry out, instinctively reaching for him, fingers tangling in his hair in a desperate attempt to pull him away.

But Sukuna is far from done.

He growls again, grabbing both your wrists in one hand and forcing them behind your back with humiliating ease. The other hand holds you in place by the waist, and he laps at the blood trailing from your wound, his tongue slow and deliberate. Worshipful, in a twisted, terrifying way.

He doesn’t stop. He dives back in, sucking, biting, marking you over and over until your neck blossoms in deep reds and violent purples. A crown of bruises worn only by the damned.

You’re trembling now, not from fear—but from the unbearable rush of it all.

And Sukuna? He’s only just begun.

He reaches one of his lower hands between your thighs, brushing aside your pajama shorts with an effortless motion. With a flick of his wrist, he hooks a finger into the waistband of both your shorts and panties, tearing them apart like wet paper. The sound of fabric ripping echoes in the chamber, followed by the soft whisper of cloth hitting bone as your clothing falls to the ground in tatters.

With his other lower arm, he lifts you like you're weightless, hands gripping your waist with practiced strength—rough, yet with a frightening kind of care. Like a predator who doesn’t want to break the prey until the right moment. As he ascends the pile of skulls, you instinctively avoid looking down, unwilling to think about who they once were. You focus instead on him—on the sensation of his body pressed to yours, on the terrifying comfort of his grip.

His lips never leave your neck. His fangs, already stained with your blood, drag against your skin in a cruel promise. Your neck, once smooth, now blooms with dark marks—bruises, welts, cuts—a living canvas of his possession.

A sudden wave of shame crashes over you as the reality of what you’re doing sinks in. What would your fellow Jujutsu sorcerers think if they saw you like this? Marked by a curse—the curse. You feel the weight of your choices bearing down.

He feels it too.

Without a word, he hurls you onto his throne—a towering, jagged seat of bone and twisted steel, as brutal and imposing as its master. You hit the seat with a thud, breath stolen from your lungs, your body trembling with a mix of fear, guilt, and something darker.

A strong hand seizes your chin, tilting your face upward. You look into four burning eyes, full of scorn and amusement.

“Tch. Look at you,” he mutters. “Trembling like a leaf, after crawling into my domain on your own. I don’t let just anyone in here, you know.” His other hand cracks against your cheek with a sharp slap, the sting blooming instantly across your skin. “Well you're in luck. I've always wanted to defile a jujutsu sorcerer. Its just my luck a fucked up pretty little whore dropped in my lap.”

Tears spring to your eyes, not just from pain, but from the shame curling deep in your stomach.

“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” he growls, voice low and dangerous. “Three years you spent digging into my legacy. Feeding your obsession. And here you are—just another filthy human slut desperate to be touched by something monstrous.”

He cages you in, all four arms braced on either side of you, his massive form casting you in shadow. You feel like prey. Trapped. Hunted. Your heart races.

“I can smell it, you know—the guilt,” he sneers. “But I can also smell the truth underneath it.”

He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear.

“You want them to know. All those little sorcerers you call friends—you want them to see the marks I leave on you. You want them to know who you belong to now. Don’t you, little whore?”

You freeze. The thought had crossed your mind once. Maybe more than once. But hearing it said aloud—so crudely, so accurately—makes your throat tighten.

“I asked you a question, whore.” His voice sharpens. “When your king speaks, you answer.”

You gulp, nodding.

He growls softly. “Ah, no. Not enough. I want words, not whimpers. So mouthy before, and now you cant even get a coherent sentence out. I havent even fucked you yet, how pathetic.

You look up into his eyes—terrified and trembling, but unable to lie to yourself anymore.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Yes… I want them to know I’m yours.”

He smiles—a twisted, triumphant expression that sends a chill down your spine.

“Good girl,” he says, lips curling back to bare his fangs. “Because from this moment on, you are.”

Suddenly, his grip tightens, and before you can process what’s happening, you feel a rush of pressure between your thighs — not one, not two, but three of his massive fingers drive into you without warning. The sudden stretch steals the breath from your lungs.

“You want it, do you?” His voice is a low growl, vibrating through your chest like thunder. “Then beg, pet. Beg for your king.”

Your words crumble into gasped half-sentences, muffled moans, and desperate little pleas as your body writhes helplessly in his hold, trying to match his rhythm. Every curl of his fingers makes your vision blur, the relentless pace driving you higher, faster.

“Oh, you can do better than that.” His voice darkens, almost mocking. “Beg for your king like the filthy little whore you are. Say it. Show me.”

His thumb finds your clit, pressing in tight circles that send shocks up your spine. Your back arches against him, mouth falling open with a sobbing moan.

“F-Fuck, please,” you choke out, barely coherent. “Please—please, I need it—need you—Sukuna, please—”

The moment his name falls from your lips, everything changes. He lets out a feral noise that’s somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and before you can even mourn the loss of his fingers, he buries his dick deep inside you with a savage thrust.

You cry out, not just from the stretch, but from the overwhelming sensation that follows — the heat, the fullness, the way your body clenches around him like it was made for this. Made for him.

His breath stutters against your skin. “Tight little thing,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You feel that, don’t you? How you fit around me so perfectly. It’s like you were always meant to be mine. God, you can fucking see my dick in your stomach.” he groans out. Its been so long since hed taken anyone like this; and though he’d never admit it to you, you’re the best pussy he’s ever had. 

You don’t even have time to answer. Your body moves on instinct, spasming around him as your climax hits you in a sudden, overwhelming wave. He holds you steady, one arm wrapping around your waist like a steel band, the other gripping your thigh as he starts to move — deep, slow, brutal.

“Already?” He chuckles darkly. “You must be a virgin Cumming so quickly… How precious.”

He leans forward, forcing you to meet his eyes — those four blazing orbs searing into your soul. “Look at you. Wrecked, ruined, and I’ve barely even started.”

One of his hands slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat — squeezing slightly to constrict your breathing slightly. “You’re mine now,” he says, tone calm but laced with threat. “Every breath you take. Every sound you make. Every time someone even thinks of touching you, they’ll see me in your eyes.”

You can barely think, barely speak, every nerve set alight as he starts to move again — unrelenting and commanding. All that’s left is the sound of your whimpers, the heat of his breath on your skin, and the terrifying, intoxicating truth:

You don’t want to be anywhere else.

“Mmf- s-sukuna-” you moan out, knees falling open as you completely submit, showing just how much he can use you. “Mm… let you do anything..” 

He stops his momentum immediately, making you actually tear up, missing his dick pressing against your cervix, hitting the right spots every time. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” his eyes flash, sadistic smirk forming across his face. One of his hands grips your chin harshly, and he spits, spits, in your face. “Say. that. Again.” 

You gasp, his saliva trailing down your cheek. You gulp before responding quietly. “I’d let you do anything you want to me.” your voice is slurred with pleasure slightly, and you swear his eyes glow red when the words leave your lips. 

He drops your chin and shoves you down, hooking your legs around his waist. 

“You innocent, little thing. You have no idea what you’ve done.” he purrs in your ear. 

“I’m going to fucking tear you apart.” 

Suddenly his mouth is on your breasts, biting and sucking, and he resumes his cruel thrusting pace, making you scream out in surprise. He grabs a nipple into his mouth, biting down on the taut bud just enough to send jolts of pain and pleasure through your body. His hand grips your other breast, rolling your the nipple between his large fingers and pinching. 

He looks up at you, mouth still moving on your breasts, and he actually has to close his eyes to keep himself from cumming. 

Your head is lolled to the side, eyes dazed and rolled back. You’re flushed and sweaty, hair sticking to your forehead, mouth open as actual drool dribbles out. 

His marks completely cover your body, and he absolutely knows there is no way of covering them up. You look like you're in pure ecstasy, and he engranes the image in his mind to use at a later date. 

Another orgasm pours over you, and Sukuna lets out an animalistic growl as you squeeze around his dick. 

“Fuck- tightest little cunt- god, I can’t wait to fucking fill you up.” 

You moan at his words, and he continues fucking into you roughly, finally releasing your neck as finger-shaped bruises begin to form. He holds your hips down, bringing another hand to your clit, flicking at rubbing it harshly.  

A third orgasm crashes over you, catching even you off guard. Sukuna barks out a yell, sinking his teeth back into your neck as he makes four deep thrusts, your constricting walls finally breaking him. He growls and falls against you, spurting load after load of hot, sticky cum deep in your cunt. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, feeling him fill you to the brim. 

For a moment, the only sound that lingers in the heavy air is the ragged rise and fall of your breathing, tangled with his own. Sukuna releases your wrists, and to your surprise, his movements shift — not harsh, not greedy. He pulls out of you with an almost reverent slowness, your body still trembling from the aftermath.

You whimper instinctively, still aching, still stretched far beyond your limits. His deep, throaty chuckle rumbles through the chamber as he watches you tighten around the emptiness he left behind.

“There, there, little girl,” he murmurs, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek with unexpected tenderness. His clawed fingers trail your jaw, soft for the first time. “You got what you wished for.”

Through your half-lidded eyes, you catch the faintest hint of something new tugging at the corners of his mouth. Not smugness. Not triumph. Something quieter. Older.

A single, large hand cups your cheek, his thumb swiping gently beneath your eye. “Sleep now, pet,” he says, voice low and velvety. “Perhaps I’ll grant you another visit.”

The world goes dark not with fear, but with surrender.

Sunlight filters through the narrow cracks in your curtains, speckling your room in faint gold. You blink against the light, breath catching as memories rush in—vivid, violent, visceral.

You jolt upright and immediately regret it, pain flaring through every muscle. So it was real...

Gingerly, you swing your legs off the bed, feeling your thighs protest every movement. Every step toward your vanity is a struggle—your body marked, exhausted, claimed.

And when you catch your reflection, you freeze.

Your neck and chest are a canvas of bruises, deep purples blooming across pale skin like morbid blossoms. Small bandages pepper your body—tucked neatly over teeth marks, scratches, and raw places only he could’ve reached. You stare, wide-eyed, as a blush rises to your cheeks.

Did the King of Curses… bandage you?

Your hand comes up to touch one of them, and something twists in your chest. Not fear. Not shame.

Possession.

A flicker in the mirror draws your attention. For a brief second—too fast to be certain—you swear you see four crimson eyes watching from the shadows behind you. A whisper of heat coils at the base of your spine.

Then it’s gone.

But you know better now.

This isn’t over.

You had opened a door. And Sukuna… would never lets his plaything close it again.

[digiflora]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘!

ꪆৎ choso ⸝⸝ sukuna ⸝⸝ gojo ⸝⸝ ino wc.

summary. life as a streamer creates all sorts of potential interactions- whether between other creatives, or just some random person in a csgo lobby...

contains! ꪆৎ streamer au ⸝⸝ cosplayer reader (choso) ⸝⸝ some suggestiveness + downbadness lmfao ⸝⸝ nerdjo my beloved

𐔌 gia's notes! ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) woioi chat. i've been on such a 2020 first lockdown nostalgic kick recently im ngl... hence the title of this fic LOL. and lowkey the content too 😞 you can kinda tell that i ran out of steam while writing this... but o well

streamer!choso [@/ch0k4m0] who is relatively well known- technically, for his gaming abilities, though what solidified his online fame was his rather candid commentary, with seemingly no filter between his thoughts and the words that come out of his mouth. that, and his looks which had broken the internet when he had face revealed, catapulting him from a fairly unknown but well loved streamer to regularly getting hundreds of thousands of views on his streams.

his current streams mostly consisted of him working his way through resident evil. viewers could expect to see a decent progression within each stream due to choso not being completely useless at playing the game, alongside his dumb comments diminishing the fear factor of the franchise ever so slightly. and of course, his ever so subtle crush on the character ada wong.

'chat oh my GOD i've never been so in love with some pixels before'

'ada baby please, just one chance. i know that i'm 3d and you're 2d but we'll make it work'

every time a cutscene of her plays, there's an absolute torrent of messages and donations teasing him for his poorly hidden crush, ones that choso takes the time to properly read through during his breaks in the stream. such an occasion happens now, with choso reading out some random comments when a new donation rings out, the text to speech voice that comes with it bearing a demand

'choso you need to look up this account RIGHT NOW and look at the video they just posted'

his brow furrows as he reads the username, deliberating on whether he should actually follow those instructions or if his viewer was just trying to mess with him. ultimately, he conceded to his chat's wishes and opened a new browser window, typing it in.

a mere few hours later after the stream, you found your notifications to be blowing up more than usual. you had posted a new cosplay video earlier today, but even then there was a little TOO many notifications to be your usual audience. you noticed that you had been tagged in an edit, inclining you to click on that before wading through the likes and comments. every time that you received one it was a special kind of joy, with the knowledge that someone enjoyed your cosplays enough to inspire them to make something. you hear the music begin to fade in once the edit loads, though the intro clip has you confused as you don't think that you've seen it before.

obviously, you recognise choso, the handsome and funny streamer who got really popular recently, and one that you have unfortunately joined many others in appointing as your resident e-crush. you weren't big on watching streams, but every time a clip of choso appears when you scroll, you can't help but watch the whole thing, partially for its entertainment value, and partially because of just how cute the guy looked on your phone screen.

so really, it was quite the surreal experience to hear your username fall from his lips as the clip plays on your phone, and you watch the edit in disbelief

'am i spelling this right, chat?'

'and the latest video, right- oh it's, holy fuck-"

the beat then kicks in. clips of your ada wong cosplay flashing across the screen, one final flashbang of choso's face as he watches your video with an almost comical expression of awe. you're left absolutely flabbergasted as the video begins to loop, clicking on the comments to see what the hell was going on

'get in damn line choso 😩'

'BROOOODJFNSJG I WAS WATCHING THE STREAM AND I JUST KNEWWWWW SOMEONE WAS GONNA MAKE AN EDIT WITH THAT CLIP 😭😭😭'

'the stream was like 2 hours ago this edit was so fast wtf'

'it should have been meeeeeee ughhh'

'the way choso scrolled thru her ENTIRE account and then followed her... that man's finally got a crush on a real personnnnn'

that last comment captures your attention specifically, and sure enough, you see his username amongst your many new followers. it pays to get noticed by a popular streamer, you suppose.

and then, to your utmost surprise, you also see his name pop up within your dm requests

@/ch0k4mo: sooo are you in need of a leon kennedy by any chance

the dm isn't exactly suave, but it has its intended effect as you blink at your screen as you process it, finally letting out a squeal of excitement, screenshotting the message shamelessly. your friends are not gonna believe this. and then, only after running laps around your room and waiting for your erratic heartrate to return to a normal tempo, you type out a shaky response.

@/yn: funny that you ask that, cos i had a few video ideas in mind ;)

you can only hope that on the other end of the line, choso is having a somewhat similar reaction to yours.

streamer!sukuna [@/kingkuna] who is notorious for causing chaos online, whether on fps games such as cs and valorant, or even on the more inane roblox games where he makes a living off of terrorising little kids. actions speak louder than words, though the streamer is quick to utilise both when instilling terror on whichever server has the misfortune of having him

'i do this for the love of the game, chat'

'well, that, and because bullying little runts is fun'

all of these actions, streamed live every wednesday and friday, helped to garner sukuna a rather.... distinct reputation.

despite being considered an asshole for all intents and purposes, sukuna had somehow amassed a following, all from his persona of being an online troll.

so this week's particular stream was especially shocking to his fans for all of the wrong reasons.

it started off like any other stream, sukuna casually reading off the odd message in his chat whilst preparing for the stream, retorting some snarky comment that has the chat getting more and more riled up, all with a shit-eating grin on his face.

it was more or less a love-hate relationship between him and his chat, though everyone seemed happy with the dynamic, expecting no less from the streamer.

this stream in particular was particularly anticipated, if the steadily increasing viewcount in the corner was anything to go off of, probably due to the fact that this wasn't quite like his other streams. despite the countless hours of his content, very little was known about sukuna, and as a 1 million subscriber goal, the man had acquiesced to people's demands for a q&a.

it started off as well as it could have, with rather generic questions rolling out. but of course, knowing sukuna's audience (and his lenient moderators), some raunchier ones started to worm their way through

'does it... jiggle when i walk? mods, get this clown out of here'

sukuna rattles through the questions, his fans clearly revelling in his embarrassing childhood stories, in the knowledge that his hair is not dyed, and how he views his streams as training to continue defeating his nephew in fortnite whenever they play together.

and then, finally, the fated question

'kingkuna i have to know for all the ladies out there... do u have a gf??'

it's a special donation message, one that rattles off loud and clear in a way that absolutely cannot be missed, though with the amount of time it takes for him to respond, he may as well have.

'hm, wouldn't you like to know?'

there's a torrent of outraged messages, before a deep booming laugh emits from the man.

'ehhh, i'm just fucking with you. of course i do, she's my forever girl.'

there's another torrent of messages in chat, though they're now oohing and ahhing at just how uncharacteristically sweet the streamer is being. his eyes flit over the incoming messages, his grin widening as his gaze lifts to somewhere beyond the webcam's reach.

there's a silent exchange, no words needed before sukuna reclines back in his chair, his legs spreading as he makes room for whoever's coming into frame.

'she's right here, too. everyone say hi to y/n'

and when she situates herself right on his lap and his arm wraps around her waist, the chat goes crazy. the streamer seems to remember his regular image, cackling at the desperate onslaught of messages eager to get even a morsel of information about the two of you, instead starting to click away at the preparations needed before he ends the stream

'oh would you look at the time, looks like i'll be having to end the stream now. see you suckers on wednesday'

'byeeeee!'

you can't help but chime in, giggling and waving right at the camera before the stream shuts off, and you feel sukuna begin to truly relax into his chair, shuffling you impossibly closer to his chest, hugging you to him and burying his face against you.

'aww, you big baby'

'dunno what you're talking about'

you giggle at your boyfriend's antics, though definitely used to them by now. instead, you get comfy, letting sukuna use you as his personal pillow as you card through his hair with one hand, the other unlocking your phone and you begin to scroll through twitter. #kingkuna1m was already trending thanks to the premise of his livestream, and you can't help but click on the tag, looking through some of the most recent tweets.

'never would i EVER have expected SUKUNA of all ppl to be relationship goals'

'praying on his downfall fr 🙏🙏🙏 he doesn't know how good he has it'

'he's so EVIL for ending the stream like that omfg'

'the way he looks at her IM SICKKKKK ☹️☹️☹️☹️'

that last one comes with a video, a hasty screen recording of those last few moments of the stream as you wave at the camera, though you're focusing on the shamelessly lovestruck expression on sukuna's face as he watches you. it's enough to have you giggling and kicking your feet right in his lap, and he grumbles, his spare hand catching onto your flailing ankle

'quit squirming, brat'

'but you're just so cute, kunaaa'

you show him your phone screen, and it's your turn to study his face as he looks at the video impassively, though he can't hide the little twitch of his lips.

'my camera must be faulty, gotta get a new one'

streamer!gojo [@/sago] who is affectionately known by his fans for being a big fat nerd. it's not like he tries to hide it, the background of his setup decorated avidly with all sorts of posters and memorabilia from his favourite shows and games. compared to other streamers, too, gojo wasn't one to particularly shy away from details of his personal life, his laidback and easygoing persona making it easy for people to become regular viewers of his streams.

on said streams it was commonplace for his chat to ask him questions about himself, and more often than not he would give them an answer- and on one of these such occasions is when he let slip the fact that he had a roommate. and that in itself isn't anything too worldbreaking to hear, but it's the way he almost lights up as he mentions your name that has his fans intrigued.

even more interesting is gojo's reluctance, for lack of a better word, about relinquishing more information about you. how quick he is to change the subject, or act as if he never read the original message at all.

and in an impressive effort which has the streisand effect in strong contention to be renamed to the gojo effect, this only further instils a need for his fans to know everything that they possibly could about you.

it's arguably one of his most well-loved bits with an incredibly long longevity, with a large amount of fanmade compilations of him at least alluding to it

'who's my roommate? i'll let you know when i find out'

'come back with a warrant, fed'

'that's some very personal information there which i would be hesitant to spread online. what do you MEAN i was telling you all about where i grew up 2 minutes ago-'

(you get the picture)

therefore, it's a rare and delightful treat whenever a new tidbit about you is let slip by the streamer. the day that your name got accidentally revealed by him on stream was a day for the books. and of course, since gojo's fans were deranged, your insta account and subsequent face reveal were soon to follow.

and once the cat was out of the bag, gojo seemed to begrudgingly relax about your secrecy. you started popping up in streams a bit more often, usually just a face peeking in to the room of gojo's setup, a sneaky wave that satoru would notice later and grin to himself about. he's got a highlight reel of your appearances on his twitch profile that he likes to rewatch more than he cares to admit.

one time, he even had you sat next to him during a just chatting stream, the two of you shooting the shit. his fans were quick to point out how red the tips of his ears were throughout the whole stream. and how he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars whenever you spoke. and how he kept looking at you like that even when you weren't speaking.

it was never official, but satoru's feelings for you were.. rather obvious to anyone with the time to tune in to his streams. his touchiness regarding you seemed to make a lot more sense now, and became the newest aspect of satoru's life for his chat to ruthlessly mock.

today was just a regular stream- some mindless shooter game that satoru was way too invested in, no mentions or guest appearances of you. until now.

the door opened in the background of the stream- satoru's eyes flick up just before the door even moves, as if he had a sixth sense just for you- and you storm into the room, closer to annoyed than your usual cheery self.

'toru, you forgot to take out the bins. they're being collected tomorrow so don't leave it too late

and just like that, you're gone again. there's not even an ounce of hesitation before satoru is getting up from his desk, headphones coming off despite the yells of his teammates for him to stop fucking around and help them rush a.

chat is making their usual comments, a spam of their love for you and excitement that you've made an appearance. a few keener watchers were geeking over the toru nickname that's sure to make their way into the next y/n and gojo compilation video.

and despite all of this, satoru's heading out of the room.

'my girl's mad at me guys, i gotta go fix it'

and he's only gone for a few minutes, at most. but it's like an implosion of oncoming messages, all scrolling past his screen with no eyes to see them.

gojospinkietoe: FIRST TORU THEN MY GIRL!!!???? OHHHH MY GOD 🥺🥺🥺

iwatchmen: the gojoyn fans are gonna loveeee this

gojoyn5evrrr: SOMEONE CLIP THAT

funnily enough, satoru doesn't even realise the slipup until he's almost back to his room. at least he can blame the blush this time on having to have gone outside very briefly.

it's not exactly the same as his usual slipups when it comes to you- usually, there's at least an element of truth to them, but this appears to be sourced from somewhere deeper in his brain, a lot more of a subconscious desire that he hoped wouldn't breach into the conscious realm.

not until he was ready, at least.

streamer!ino [@/yunglean4ever] who's more of an up and coming streamer.. but he's slowly and steadily making his way up the rankings!! his game of choice is usually an fps, with his default usually being csgo. or something like that. he enjoys the straightforward nature of it. and teabagging his opponents when he's in the mood to be a little shit.

during these livestreams he's met many a different player, some friendlier than the regular silence or automatic irritated mood that most seemed to have- or some russian guy screaming words into the mic that was anyone's guess as to what it meant.

and while interacting with said teammates is always a promising aspect of entertainment, ino wasn't one to remember most of these interactions, save for a few especially distinct ones.

one such occasion is when he meets you. you've got your mic on, which is always more appealing for ino than having to communicate via typing or reading chats, and even better is the almost instant connection that the two of you make. you giggle at his silly username, he indignantly defends his love for drain gang, and the rest is history.

one match played together turns into a friend request, which turns into becoming a party, which turns into playing duos, which turns into goving each other your discords, which turns into many more rounds which extend way after ino ends his stream.

it was merely a start to this new... something, but with the way that ino caught himself laughing a little too hard at your mildly funny jokes, he had a feeling that it would turn into something much more.

so when he boots up his pc the next day, it's not much surprise to him that there's some giddy emotion that he feels when he says a message from you

'wanna play? had a lot of fun last night w u :D'

he couldn't type out a response fast enough to contain his excitement.

⋆˚࿔ jjk masterlist

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ... or, try reading hopelessly devoted to you

[slutforvoldy]

“ DRIVEN TO YOU. ” ( kimi antonelli ! )

SUMMARY: the reader swore that she will never fall for a driver—but fate has a way of forcing you to break the rules you made to protect your heart.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: enemies to lovers, lots of banter, chaotic timeline, mentions death, mentions crashes

pairing: kimi antonelli x female!reader

FLASHBACK – EIGHT YEARS AGO Abu Dhabi Grand Prix – Final Lap

THE WORLD WAS on its feet.

The sky was painted in orange fire and smoke as the sun set over Yas Marina, casting long shadows across the pit lane. Your fingers curled around the armrest of the VIP paddock seat, knuckles white.

"Dad’s gonna win," You whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the roar of engines.

And he was.

He was flying down the straight, purple sectors lighting up the timing screen. His name is in bold gold. Your heart raced as you clutched the little plush your dad gave you before every race.

Then came the scream.

Not yours. The tires. The engine. The crowd. The silence.

The screen flickered and cut to the on-board camera. Then off.

“Red flag! Red flag!”

You stood, too stunned to cry.

The car had flipped—rolled once, then twice, before slamming into the barriers. Sparks. Fire. Smoke.

You didn’t remember how you got to the hospital. Only the cold sterility of the waiting room. Your mother holding you too tight. Reporters outside. The security trying to keep them out.

And the doctor. White coat, clipboard. Words you couldn’t understand until your mom collapsed into sobs.

He didn’t make it.

Your father. The world champion. Your hero.

Gone.

You were only ten. Too young to lose him.

That was the moment you made the promise.

I’ll never love another driver. I won’t love anything that can be taken from me like that ever again.

Never again.

PRESENT DAY — MONACO

“You’re coming,” Ollie insisted, holding the door of the Haas motorhome open like it was a threat.

“I’m not.”

“You owe me. I was there for your university showcase, remember? Now you show up for my FP1 debrief.”

“You’re evil.”

“I’m your best friend.”

“Same thing.”

Reluctantly, you followed him inside. The scent of rubber, adrenaline, and overpriced coffee clung to the air. You tried not to look too long at the cars—especially not at the one with “ANTONELLI” written in bold on the side of the W16.

That was the other problem.

Kimi Antonelli.

Ollie’s best friend. The new golden boy at Mercedes. A name with pressure carved into it and a future brighter than the sun. And a complete pain in your ass.

Both of you had met once. That was all it took to decide you couldn’t stand each other.

FLASHBACK — A FEW MONTHS AGO

Your memory of your first encounter with Kimi still made you cringe. You were just a shadow in the paddock, trying to stay out of the way, when Kimi had walked up to you, all confidence and arrogance wrapped in a Mercedes jacket. His piercing gaze had swept over you in a way that made you feel like you were under a microscope. And, of course, that’s when you opened your mouth.

“Seriously, who are you? Some kind of new poster boy for Mercedes?”

He had laughed, his eyes glinting with mischief. “No. I’m just the guy who’s going to take your precious Ollie down a peg.”

“Right. Like that’s gonna happen.”

You didn't mean to sound so dismissive, but something about him rubbed you the wrong way—his smug attitude, the way he carried himself as if he was already the champion of F1.

“I’m Kimi, by the way,” he said, extending his hand with a sly grin.

“I don’t care.”

He had chuckled and dropped his hand, unbothered. “Well, you’re cute when you’re mad. You should smile more.”

You stared at him, speechless, and muttered, “I hate you.”

The smirk never left his face. “Likewise.”

PRESENT DAY

You didn’t look up when he entered the lounge, but you felt him—like static in the air.

“I know that glare,” he said, grabbing a water bottle. “Who pissed you off this time?”

“You, probably.”

“I haven’t said a word yet.”

“Exactly.”

He sat across from you, stretching like a cat who knew he was being watched.

“Take a shower, Antonelli. I can smell you from here.”

He smirked. “Care to join me?”

“In your dreams.”

“You’re not denying it’s your dream too.”

“I’m denying everything about you.”

“You always do.”

You groaned. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why everyone fawns over you. You’re not that good looking, alright?”

“So you admit I’m good looking?”

“What? N-no. Never.”

“Too late. Already heard it.”

“You’re impossible...” You started. “It’s impossible not to hate you.”

“It’s impossible not to hate you,” he mocked in a voice that made you throw a cushion at him.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to murder me but also like… you want me.”

He paused, just for a second, eyes flickering over your face. “That’s oddly specific.”

You stood abruptly. “I need air.”

“Running again?”

“No. Leaving, because you’re unbearable.”

“You sure it’s not because you like me?”

You froze in the hallway, heart lurching. “I don’t like you.”

He stared at you, gaze unreadable. “You sure?”

“You piss me off.”

“You intrigue me.”

“Go to hell, Antonelli.”

“I’ll save you a seat.”

BARCELONA — A FEW DAYS LATER

At Barcelona, the media pen was buzzing with post-race chatter, and you were standing impatiently, waiting for Ollie to finish his interviews. But before you could zone out, a familiar voice broke through the crowd.

Kimi, leaning against a nearby wall, smirked as he crossed his arms. “Didn’t know the devil followed races now.”

You didn’t even glance at him, eyes still fixed on the chaos around you. “Didn’t know children were allowed in the paddock.”

He took a step closer, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. “You’re cute when you’re mean.”

Your patience snapped. “Yeah, well, I’m cute when I punch people, too.” Without waiting for his response, you spun on your heel and stormed off, your heart racing. You didn’t look back, but you could practically feel his smirk following you.

MONTREAL – A FEW WEEKS LATER

A few weeks later, while you were both waiting for their drivers’ meeting in the paddock, Kimi leaned casually against the wall, watching the bustle of activity around them. You stood nearby, focused on your phone, trying to ignore him.

Kimi’s voice cut through her concentration. “You know, if you ever want any advice on how to look less miserable, I’m your guy.”

You shot him a sideways glance. “Oh, right, you’re the expert on looking happy while being an arrogant prick.”

He grinned. “It’s an art, really.”

“Yeah,” You said with a sharp exhale. “A sad, sorry art.”

Kimi’s smile only widened. “Maybe I like making you mad. Makes you more fun.”

You glared at him. "I’m not here to entertain you, Antonelli."

He leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “Too bad. You’re way more entertaining when you’re pissed off.”

You crossed your arms, trying to look unaffected. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice teasing. “But you still don’t hate me enough to leave.”

SPIELBERG – A FEW DAYS LATER

During Free Practice, you and Kimi were both standing near the track, watching the cars zoom by. Kimi, ever the teasing presence, couldn’t resist.

“You know, you look better when you’re focused on something other than me,” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I wasn’t aware I was ever focused on you.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he replied, a mocking tone in his voice. “But I’m pretty sure your mind just doesn’t shut up about me.”

“Oh please,” You shot back, “My mind’s too busy thinking about more important things than your annoying face.”

Kimi chuckled, leaning closer, his voice lowering slightly. “Well, I don’t mind being the thing you think about, even if it’s only in passing.”

You groaned, knowing he was trying to get under your skin. But as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t help but notice how distracting he was at that moment.

That night, after another grueling FP3 session, you found yourself standing outside the garages, the chill of the night air cutting through your jacket. You were exhausted, but you needed a few moments to breathe before heading back to your hotel.

But you hadn’t expected to see him.

But there he was, leaning casually against the wall, his Mercedes jacket unzipped, his arms folded.

“Thought you’d run off already,” he said, his voice carrying the same playful tone as always.

“I’m not running. I’m staying away from you,” you replied, your voice sharp.

He raised an eyebrow. “Still mad I beat Ollie in qualifying?”

You couldn’t hold back the frustration anymore. “God, it’s not about that,” you snapped. “You always think it’s about you.”

Kimi straightened, stepping closer. “What is it really, [L/N]? Why do you hate me so much?”

“I hate Formula 1. I hate you.”

There was a pause—a heavy silence that lingered like a storm cloud. He couldn’t have expected your words to cut so deep.

“Why?” he asked, his voice quieter this time. “Did your ex used to race or something?” He chuckled

You froze. His words hit too close to home. Your body trembled as the memories came rushing back.

“My dad was a driver,” You said in a raw whisper, barely able to contain the emotion. “He died in a crash. I watched it happen. That’s why I hate this world. And you—” You shook your head, blinking furiously to hold back the tears. “I swore I’d never love anything that could be taken from me like that.”

For a moment, there was no sound. Just the rush of blood in your ears.

Kimi took a small step forward, lowering his voice. “I didn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t have known,” you whispered back.

“I’m sorry,” Kimi said, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. It doesn’t change anything,” You said, wiping your face.

And then, as if to put distance between the two of you, you crossed your arms and said, “By the way, nothing is gonna change between us because of this, okay?”

His gaze softened, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

Because they both knew everything had changed.

They hadn’t spoken about that night.

Not in Silverstone, not in the messages Kimi never sent, and certainly not now—walking past each other in the paddock like nothing had changed. But it had.

You felt it every time he looked at you.

It wasn’t hatred anymore. It wasn’t even annoyance.

It was knowing.

Knowing your grief. Knowing the promise you made. Knowing how close he was to breaking it.

And worse? You were letting him.

That terrified you more than the memory of the crash.

Ollie had finished P5. Kimi took P2. You found yourself in the back of the paddock, waiting for Ollie, when you saw Kimi approach—sweaty, still in his fireproofs, a towel around his neck.

“You came,” he said, not smug for once. Just surprised.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came for Ollie.”

“Right,” he said, stepping closer. “You always hang around where I am, for Ollie.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away. “I’m not here for you, Antonelli.”

“Sure you’re not,” he said softly, and for once, there was no edge.

Just something warm. Dangerous.

You looked away. “You still drive like a maniac.”

“You still look at me like you want to throw something.”

“I usually do.”

But the banter had lost its bite.

SPA – A FEW WEEKS LATER

After the red flag incident at Spa, you found yourself back in the garage, trying to shake off the trembling feeling you got from seeing the crash footage. Your hands were still shaking, and you kept your head low, hoping no one would notice. But Kimi noticed. He always noticed.

As you turned to leave the garage, Kimi followed you, his footsteps purposeful and steady. He caught up with you just outside, where the noise of the race seemed to fade, and there was only the sound of breathing.

"You good?" His voice was low, almost careful.

You didn’t answer immediately, unsure of how to explain the way the sight of the crash rattled you. He waited, not pushing, but not walking away either. It was a rare moment for Kimi—showing concern without making a joke.

“I’m fine,” you finally muttered, but the words felt weak.

“You’re lying.” His bluntness was almost comforting. Kimi wasn’t one for small talk or pity. He was straightforward, and there was something about that honesty that made you want to open up.

“I don’t... I don’t like seeing crashes,” you admitted quietly, almost as if you hadn’t intended to say it out loud. “It reminds me of... something.”

Kimi didn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his expression unreadable.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked simply. No teasing, no sarcasm—just a genuine offer to listen.

For a split second, you almost said yes, but you swallowed the words. "No," you whispered, shaking your head. "I just need some air."

Without another word, Kimi simply nodded, respecting your space. But there was a subtle softness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. A quiet understanding made your chest tighten.

Kimi found you again in the paddock the next week. And the next. Every time, a little softer, a little less like a contest.

He’d offer you a water bottle after a tough session, like he cared but didn’t know how to show it. He’d pass you a jacket when you stayed too long in the cold, only to have you stare at it with suspicion before you wrapped it around your shoulders.

None of these moments were confessions. But they were becoming something.

One evening, after another sweaty FP3 session, he handed you a bottle of water. “You look like you’re gonna faint.”

You stared at him, not blinking. “And I suppose that’s a you problem?”

“You sure?” Kimi smirked. “’Cause I’m concerned.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And I suppose you think I’ll just melt into your arms now?”

“Maybe.”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Get lost.”

In another night, when Ollie left to debrief with his team, Kimi found you lingering in the garage. Alone.

“Stay in here too long, and you’ll freeze to death,” he said, throwing a jacket over your shoulders.

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Kimi shot back, eyes avoiding yours. “Just—take the jacket.”

You didn’t respond, but for the first time, you didn’t push it away.

Eventually, the boundaries between hate and something else got thinner.

You would never admit it but truth be told, you liked him in ways you couldn’t explain—especially when you remembered the promise you made to yourself. So you hated him instead.

Sometimes, you pass each other in the paddock tunnels, and Kimi would mutter something under his breath — usually sarcastic, occasionally sincere — and you’d snap back with something equally sharp, but neither walked away fast enough.

There was the time he stood behind you in the coffee queue and, without asking, added an extra sugar to your cup before handing it over like it was no big deal. “You always forget,” he said, without looking you in the eye. You didn’t remember ever telling him how you liked your coffee.

Another time, you tripped over a cable while backing up from a chaotic post-race moment, and Kimi instinctively caught you by the waist, steadying you. His hand stayed there longer than it needed to. Long enough that when he finally let go, her skin still felt warm.

There were more moments like that. Subtle, unspoken exchanges chipped away at the distance between them. Like when he unexpectedly stood next to you, post-race. Neither of you spoke, but just having him there—his quiet presence beside you as both of you pretended to ignore the world around you—was enough. It was different than before. More comfortable. More... real.

You tried to ignore the growing feelings that you couldn’t quite shake off. It was stupid. You hated him. You had to. He was an F1 driver. He lived a life that was dangerous and unpredictable. He reminded you too much of what you had lost, what you had sworn to never let back into your life. And yet, with every passing day, it became harder to deny the pull between the two of you.

You still hated him. But there was something else, too.

Something you couldn’t name yet, something you weren’t ready to confront.

After a tense week of press events and interviews, you and Kimi found yourselves in an unusual situation: standing on the roof of the Mercedes garage. It was late, the stars bright against the clear sky, and the bustling noise of the paddock below felt far away.

Kimi was leaning on the railing, his eyes on the horizon. You stood next to him, still trying to figure out why you didn’t feel like pushing him away.

"What's your deal?" you asked, your voice breaking the silence.

He didn’t look at you, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "What do you mean?"

"You’re not the same," you said, unsure if you even meant to say it aloud. "After that day, you're... different."

Kimi let out a slow breath, then finally glanced at you. “I didn’t expect you to break down in front of me, you know. But I’m not gonna pretend I don’t notice things.”

You shrugged, feeling the familiar guard come up. “I don't need your pity.”

But Kimi shook his head. “You don’t have to act tough all the time. It’s alright to let people help.”

The words hung in the air between them, and for the first time in a long time, the walls you'd built up felt a little thinner. He didn’t need to say anything more. Kimi was never one for comforting words, but somehow, his presence was more than enough.

“I don’t need your help,” you muttered, but the way you said it was different this time—softer.

Kimi raised an eyebrow. “Then why do you look like you need it?”

You didn’t answer, but for a brief second, you allowed yourself to lean closer, just a fraction. He didn’t pull away.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered, the admission more vulnerable than you ever intended it to be.

MONZA – A FEW WEEKS LATER

You were in the Haas hospitality lounge when it happened. Watching from the screen.

Lap 27. Wet track. Cold tires.

Kimi was fighting for P3. Fast, aggressive, typical Kimi. Then—

The slide.

The barrier.

The silence.

Yellow flag. No movement from Car 12.

“No,” you whispered.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as the screen cut to the crash angle. His car crumpled against the wall. Debris was scattered across the track.

“No,” you said louder, this time running.

Ollie shouted after you. People turned. Cameras clicked, but you didn’t care.

You were already sprinting toward the medical center, soaked by rain, panic building with every step.

Not again.

Not him.

Please, not him.

You burst through the doors of the medical center, breathing heavily. You almost stumbled when you saw him sitting there, his helmet off and looking slightly dazed but not seriously hurt. Relief flooded through you, and you rushed to his side.

He looked up, eyes unfocused for a moment, before he smirked. "You came to see me?"

"Don't get used to it," you muttered, your voice betraying how shaken you were. "I just—"

"Yeah," Kimi interrupted with a teasing grin, "You care. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone."

“I thought—” your voice broke, tears spilling. “God, I thought you were gone.”

He stood, pain shooting through him, but he moved anyway. “Hey, hey, I’m okay.”

You clutched his arm, sobbing, forehead against his chest.

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were. “I just... I couldn’t lose someone else,” you whispered, barely audible.

Kimi's smirk softened, and he reached out, placing a hand on your arm. "You don’t have to. I’m not going anywhere."

For once, the teasing was gone. He wasn’t making light of the situation, but instead, offering something far more genuine: reassurance.

The quiet tension between them melted, and in that moment, for the first time, you let yourself relax.

“I should’ve stayed away from all this,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I told myself I would.”

“I know.”

“I swore I’d never fall for a driver. Never again.”

Kimi fully turned to you, his gaze steady. “But you did.”

Silence.

Then, barely audible: “Yeah.”

A breath. His thumb brushed against your face.

“I was scared of you,” you admitted. “You reminded me of everything I lost.”

“You still scare me,” he said. “You made me feel things I wasn’t ready for.”

“I don’t want to lose you like I lost him.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You won’t. But even if—if that day comes—I’d rather have you now than regret never letting you in.”

A tear slid down your cheek. You didn’t wipe it away.

“You make it really hard to hate you.”

“I’ll take that as progress,” he said with a small smile.

You sniffed. “By the way, nothing’s changed. I still hate you.”

He laughed softly. “Of course you do.”

But they both knew.

Everything had changed.

[c4tluver02]

free movies

wc: 1.5k

summary: Normally Keith gives you a free movie just for being so pretty and kind. But what happens when he's gone and Steve's there?

cw: female anatomy, r has long hair, diva!reader barely but maybe?

a/n: so someone should send requests so im not only posting Steve in family video or in a pool........ i swear i acc have ideas guys!!!! Walk With Me.

The sun shining brightly through your window tells you it’s the perfect time to put on your shortest dress. It’s extremely hot out now that it's summer and wearing anything more than shorts and a tank top could kill you. It’s a nice dress that you can wear to run some errands like going to Family ideo, getting your car washed, maybe even a little sweet treat for all your hard work. It worked out perfectly. 

So when you walk into Family Video with your short dress and push up bra you expect to see Keith. Your sweetest smile is already on display, but there's no sign of him. Only two kids who look about your age stand behind the counter arguing so loudly that they didn't even hear the door open and close. Immediately dropping the smile you walk up to the counter and tap on the counter, hoping to get someone's attention. 

For Steve it wasn't even the sound of your nails on the ceramic surface but your perfume. It wrapped around him in a warm way, a hint of vanilla but not enough to suffocate him. He turned around to see where it was coming from and that's when he was met with you. In that pretty dress and, wow, your boobs look really good. You don’t look like you're trying too hard but it's obvious you're a little dressed up. 

“Is Keith in today?” You ask with a head tilt looking at the back door as if you're waiting for him to walk out of it. 

The two kids look at each other in surprise. No one ever asked for Keith, especially not a beautiful girl. Maybe you want to work here, Steve thinks. He really hopes that's the case then he could actually work up the courage to maybe ask you out? 

“Uh Keith hasn't been in for like a month. Now that the new arcade is up he barely comes around.” The girl with bangs says. Her name tag is a little scratched up. 

The boy however, Steve more like, he was silent as a mouse. Looking at you like he saw something otherworldly. 

“Oh..” You say. Trying to hide the little bit of disappointment you feel that your little tricks might no longer work. 

“Why do you need him anyways?” Steve asks. 

You bite your lip, a little embarrassed to say the evil plan you've had. But Steve thinks the action alone made his pants a little tighter. 

“Well, I would kinda flirt with him for a free film.” You say with a wince.

Both of their eyes shot out wide like you had told them you found a million dollars. Realizing how bad it sounds you are quick to explain yourself further. 

“Fake flirt! It’s.. it’s all fake.” Now you're feeling silly for coming in here lookin like you're trying to impress someone and they think it's Keith. 

“I just, kinda, come in and wear cute stuff and say hi and he gives me free movies.” You explain.

Robin lets out a laugh, it’s crazy but good for you! Steve thinks a little differently but is intrigued nonetheless. 

“So you just fake laugh at his jokes and he falls for it?” Steve asks, surprised Keith would let anyone have a free movie. Maybe he was weaker than they thought. 

“Yeah pretty much. I mean it's just putting on a dress, saying he looks good in his vest, and I walk out with a free film.” You say simply. The routine feels fine to you but now that you've said it outloud it’s not feeling so great. 

“Well we can’t give you a free film but if you still want one feel free to look around!” Robin has her customer voice back on, probably done with you and your dumb tricks. 

“I mean I could give you a friend's discount?” Robin sighs as Steve suggests it. Of course what worked on Keith is working on Steve. 

“Really? You’d do that even though we just met?” You give him a smile but this time it’s real. Nothing like the fake ones you would flash at Keith. 

“Yeah I mean just a one time special. Just because you pulled one on Keith and I’ve been wanting to do that since I got the job.” Steve laughs. It’s such a pretty sound. The more you look at him you realize his hazel eyes and amazing smile. 

“That's really sweet of you. I promise the next time I show up I’ll look more normal. I just wanted a free movie.” You end it with a frown, sad you’ll have to start paying for a movie that you'll only use once. 

Steve hates the look of a frown on your face. Your brows dip and the look in your eyes could break his heart if it went on any longer. Robin decided to walk to the back of the store and actually do her job. If you can pull one on Keith you can for sure pull it on Steve she thinks. She's surprised he wasn't target number one. 

“Well for any consolation, you do look really nice.” He hopes it doesn't come out as bad as Keith would say it, he just wants it to soften the blow. It’s just a movie but Steve has this urge to fix your problem. One could even say he needs to see you leave with a smile that's real. 

“Thank you.” It comes out sheepishly. This routine of words feels all too familiar for the situation. Normally coming out harmless but counterfeit, now coming out with heated pink cheeks and a hand twirling your hair. 

“Do you have anything in mind for the movie you want?” Steve asks, ready to help you in any way. What wonderful customer service, right? 

“I actually asked Keith to hold a movie.” You say with your hands coming to cover your face quickly. 

“Oh, okay! What's the name it’s under?” He can tell this whole moment isn't how you normally present yourself but it's fun to watch you fall apart in front of him.  

“It’s actually under his name. Or he told me it would be. God the more I talk about it outloud I feel awful about using him.” You’re back to biting your lip. Eyes on the prize, Steve. 

“Nah, don't feel bad. He actually threatened to keep my check if I was late one more time so now I have something on him. He deserves it anyways.” Steve shrugs searching for the movie Keith hid away. 

“I didn't even flirt with him the first few times I came in. I was just polite and I guess he took it a certain way and I guess I didn't say otherwise.” You keep explaining but Steve already sees you as some angel brought down just for him. The fact that you’re feeling like it’s your fault he flirted with you in the first place already shows Steve that your heart is in the right place. 

“You make it sound like you broke his heart or something. You didn't do anything wrong.” Steve confirms and you nod your head in response. Ready to let the topic go, buy the movie, and leave. This whole thing has knocked your ego down a few levels, especially when doing it in front of someone as gorgeous as Steve. 

He scans the movie and you pay in silence. It isn't awkward but it isn't something you want to linger any longer than it already is. Another customer has come in and Robin is there to help. You wish you could have met them in different circumstances, one where your ass isnt almost out of your dress and the flush to your cheeks isn't permanent. But maybe that's not a you problem but simply something that happens when you're around Steve. 

He gives you a smile that makes you smile in return. Like seeing something so pretty you can't help but become instantly happy by seeing it. 

“So when you come back are you still gonna be looking for Keith?” Steve asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. His hands are pushed against the counter to hold himself up and he has really nice hands. 

“Why would I when this Steve guy is so much better? He gives friends discounts y’know.” You say back and Steve could hear the purr in your voice. 

But to look like the little gravel did not completely rock his world he rolled his eyes as he laughed. Steve puts your dvd in a bag and you really didn't need one but Steve needs an excuse to see you for even just a second longer. 

“I think you might need to become friends with me to get that.” He’s still got your bag, not handing it back to you

You shrug your shoulders and sigh. “Then I guess i'll be here often.”

[nereidprinc3ss]

baby fever

in which reader and spencer discuss having a baby while at work

fluff warnings/tags: fem/AFAB!reader, bau!reader, BOYFRIEND!SPENCER or husband if u so desire, discussions of pregnancy/having a baby (obviously), reader wants a baby, so does spencer a/n: god i need him so badly. should i write follow up smut?? mwahaha evil emoji......

The coffee finished brewing minutes ago, but you’re still standing by the pot, watching Anderson’s daughter toddling around the bullpen on chubby legs. She’s not very adept at walking, but her spirit is indomitable—every time she tips a little too far forward, she catches herself and gets right back up. It’s not like she’s doing anything particularly impressive or even interesting, but you can’t take your eyes off her. Every movement makes your heart twinge, every giggle or curious quirk of her head is so adorable it physically hurts in your chest. 

From your peripheral vision you see Spencer approaching, bearing his own empty mug, but not even he can draw your attention away from the adorable little pixie and her tutu and her pigtails. 

“That is the cutest kid I have ever seen in my life,” you whisper to Spencer, hoping the quiet tone of your voice will help hide how much you feel like cooing and squealing. 

He smiles to himself as he pours his coffee. 

“That’s Rosie. Have you said hi yet?” 

“I’m afraid if I talk to her I’ll try to keep her.” 

“She is pretty adorable.” 

You turn to him as he leans next to you on the counter, sipping his coffee casually. 

“Adorable? Spencer. Puppies are adorable. You’re not understanding the magnitude of what I mean right now. I can’t explain to you how much adorable doesn’t cut it. I’m not kidding about the child abduction thing.” 

HIs eyes slide around the room as he chuckles into his mug. 

“Let’s maybe not joke about kidnapping a child in FBI headquarters.” 

“I’m not joking,” you hiss. “I feel like I’m going insane. I just—” 

At the last second you stop yourself, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“You just what?” Spencer asks, adjusting the hem of your shirt with his free hand. You glance down, watching the care he takes in the tiniest detail that you wouldn’t have given a second thought to. 

“Is something wrong with my shirt?” 

His eyes flick up to yours, hazel tinted with mild surprise. 

“No. It just was sliding up your waist a little bit.” As he says it, his knuckles brush the bare skin of your torso. You suppress a shiver, studying his profile once he pulls his hand away and goes for another sip. 

“Can we have one?” 

Your inopportune timing results in coffee dribbling down Spencer’s chin as he quickly attempts to wipe it away, wide eyes torn between you and trying to assess the mess he’s made. 

“You--you mean like a baby?” 

“Yeah, like a baby,” you say, grabbing his shoulders and squaring them to you before dabbing the coffee from his face and jacket. He watches on as you clean him up, completely still except for his wandering eyes. 

“I thought we were waiting on that.” 

“Waiting for what? A better time? There’s never going to be a good time with this job. And it’s not like we’d have to quit. Look at JJ. She has two and still does it.” 

“First of all,” Spencer begins, quickly recovering from your surprise proposition, “I don’t love the idea of either of us being in the field with you pregnant. And secondly, JJ also has Will and her mother to take care of the boys. We don’t have that. We’re both here all the time.” 

“I don’t care,” you groan, trashing the paper towels once you’ve done the best you can with his clothing. “We’d figure it out somehow!” 

“Mhm. It sounds like you’ve really devoted some careful consideration to this.” 

You drop your head to your shoulder, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pulling lightly on his shirtsleeve. 

“Oh, come on. You haven’t thought about it at all? My perfect brain and your pretty face fusing to create a future Nobel-prize winner? Imagine how cute she would be, Spencer, we could put her hair in little braids and pigtails and we could dress her up and she could be in soccer and ballet and—” 

“She?” he smiles, studying your face intently. You roll your eyes. 

“Yes, she. Obviously we would have a girl. You—” 

The idea of Spencer as the father of your daughter hits you like a tidal wave, stopping you dead in your tracks. The images materialize in your mind’s eye so clearly, it’s like they’re already memories, so real and tangible you have no doubt it must come to fruition someday. But if before, your ranting was mostly a silly fantasy—now it’s become a bit more intense. 

He seems to sense your shift in mood. The big smile thaws slightly as he subtly grabs your hand on the counter. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

There he goes again. Being kind. Being perfect. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.  

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just... didn’t realize how badly I actually wanted that until I said it out loud.” 

The concern in his eyes softens to pure affection as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“I want it too. And whenever you decide you’re ready I’ll drop everything for you.” 

His words are like compounding pressure to the deep heat within you—forming something so solid and perfect you don’t have to wonder if it’s real. A ten on the Mohs scale, a concept that gets closer to actualizing by the minute.  

Your voice is quiet, revelatory as you admire the amber facets in his eyes. 

“You’re ready?”  

“I’ve been ready for quite some time,” he admits. And at once you feel the certainty of him paint your past and your future with one broad brushstroke. One day you will look back on your life and remember the time before Spencer, and that will be it. There is before Spencer, and with Spencer, but never an after Spencer. He wants to create something utterly permanent with you. “Come here.” 

He sets his mug down, carefully pulling you forward so you’re toe to toe with your back to the rest of the BAU; so that only he can see you. Despite how good the two of you are at avoiding PDA, occasionally an exception is made. He tenderly wipes away the few tears that have sprung from your waterline and accepts your arms around his waist, mirroring your embrace and completely enveloping you.  

“I love you,” he murmurs against the top of your hair, quiet enough that nobody in the office has a chance of hearing it. You sniffle. 

“I love you too. Also you smell really good.” 

He chuckles, hand roaming up and down your back for a moment. 

“And that is why we are holding off on this at least for a while.” 

“What do you mean?” you whisper indignantly as he gently peels you off him. His hands remain a steadying force on your waist as he smiles down at you beatifically. 

“I mean let’s give it two weeks and see if you still want a baby when you’re not ovulating.” 

[3ardnpc]

An innocent slumber party turns into something more thanks to Asmo’s meddling.

aka Asmo thinks slumber parties should involve lingerie and aphrodisiacs

PAIRING: Solomon x f!reader x simeon

TAGS: smut, threesome but rlly simeon is just there for moral support, oral, PIV, aphrodisiacs, dirty talk, 18+ MDNI, 5.1k

A/N: a super old repost from my old blog! I heard that obey me was coming back and I can finally marry the one true loml mammon <3

The day started off with the most innocent intentions.

You got a text from Luke in the Angels group chat asking if you were free for a slumber party at Purgatory Hall—minus those ‘evil’ demon brothers, Luke added. And you, being eager for one peaceful night away from the constant chaos at the House of Lamentation, accepted right away.

It’s not that you hated being around the brothers, you loved all of them, but living with them could be draining when you were constantly being the mediator of their family drama, roped into Mammon’s get-rich-quick schemes, or unwillingly sucked into one of Levi’s dating sim games.

“Oi, when are ya gonna be back?” Mammon asked nonchalantly, pretending to be focused on scrolling through his Devilgram feed and not on your response, secretly hoping you’ll say soon.

You packed up your toothbrush in a traveling case and dropped it into your overnight bag. “Tomorrow, duh. It’s just a sleepover, Mammon,” you laughed, poking his forehead just to tease him.

He jolted up from his sprawled position on your bed. “Tomorrow?! That’s too long!”

“Pfft, lol! You sound so desperate right now,” Leviathan giggles off to the side, sitting on the floor against your bed. He had been engrossed in playing Mononoke, but just like Mammon, stuck by you since you started packing.

Mammon scoffed, “Do not.”

Just to spite his younger brother, Mammon lunged over and covered up Leviathan’s screen. The purple-haired brother shrieked and tried to scoot away, but judging by the sound his phone made, he lost the round.

“You idiot! MC look what he did to me!” He cried, holding up his DDD with big red letters spelling out ‘LOSER’. “I was just about to beat the boss and unlock the diamond armor.”

“He started it,” Mammon grumbled, returning to his lounging position.

“Just admit you’ll miss MC, Mammon,” Beelzebub said, from his spot on the ground next to your legs. “I’ll miss her.”

Unlike the other two who were either too stubborn or shy to admit it, Beelzebub was proudly unapologetic in his feelings for you.

It was not like you were leaving forever but the demon brothers act as if one minute without you is a century. It was cute if you were being honest. It was nice to have all the company and love around you. Never once did you feel lonely living in the House of Lamentation.

“I’ll miss you too, Beel,” you cooed, leaning down to press a quick kiss on his cheek. You caught his face flush as he continued to munch on his chips with a pleased grin.

“H-Hey, doesn’t the Great Mammon get a kiss too?” Mammon was sitting up now, watching you eagerly. His DDD long been forgotten.

You hummed, tapping your chin, “I dunno. It depends. Are you going to miss me?”

Your lips curled into a grin as you watched Mammon struggle between admitting the truth or suppressing it to save his tough guy persona. His conflicted blue eyes darted from the ivy crawling up your bedpost to your lips. Finally, he relented and an exasperated groan fell from his lips, “Argh, fine, fine! I’ll miss ya! So, ya better come back home soon and in one piece!”

Your heart flipped hearing him say it out loud. He didn’t say how he felt about you often, but when he did it filled you with nothing but warmth.

“I’ll miss you too, Mammon.”

His eyes brightened. You cupped his cheek and leaned in slowly, watching his eyes flutter shut and wait for your lips to meet his.

“I can sense your suppressed sexual tension from the hall, Mammon,” Asmodeus’s voice announced as he threw open your bedroom door.

You jumped back from Mammon before your lips touched, hearing him mumble a curse at his brother, and watched as Asmodeus barged into the room with a neatly gift-wrapped box in his pedicured hands.

“MC,” Asmodeus sang, gliding over to you and slipping the gift into your hands, “I brought you something that’ll spice up your sleepover. Make sure the chihuahua doesn’t get into it though.”

You frowned at the nickname everyone seemed to have given Luke. Just because he was short and a little yappy didn’t mean he was a dog. “What is it?”

Before he could respond, it was Beelzebub who provided an answer with his superior sense of smell that’s able to detect anything edible. He was practically drooling when he said, “It’s chocolate.”

The Avatar of Gluttony seemed to forget about his chips and reached for the box, hoping to get a helping of its contents, but Asmodeus smacked his hand away.

“Not for you,” he chided, “they’re for MC. Feel free to share with Simeon and Solomon though.”

He winked.

“Oh, thank you, Asmo.” You looked over the inconspicuously wrapped box. There was nothing written on it to help you figure out the brand. It was just a red box with a neatly wrapped bow on top. It looked harmless, but could you really trust Asmodeus to give you just chocolates?

Asmodeus leaned into your bag and shuffled around in it.

“Sorry if this offends you, darling, but ew ,” Asmodeus cringed, pinching up a pair of pajama bottoms you had packed. “What is this ?”

You scowled, finding it hard not to be offended. You snatched the pants out of his hand and folded them back up. “My pajamas. Is there a problem?”

“There is absolutely a problem! You can’t go to a slumber party with such unsexy clothes!”

You gawked. What did he think this slumber party is going to involve? You were spending a night with angels and one of them was a child. You were planning on sleeping tonight, not getting lucky.

Asmodeus grabbed at the pants again but you refused to let go. It was futile trying to win a tug-o-war against the demon but you were stubborn.

“Come on dear, don’t be difficult. These have to go.”

“Oi, if she wants to wear that ugly thing, then let her,” Mammon butted in.

Come on, the pants weren’t that ugly!

Mammon took your side of the tug-o-war, grabbing onto the pants and helping you pull them from Asmodeus’s powerful grip.

But, apparently, two of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and your stubbornness pulling on a pair of cheap, gimmicky pants was enough to tear it in two.

“Asmo!” You held your half of the pants up, inspecting the torn seams.

“Oops,” he giggled, tossing the fabric over his shoulder. “I guess you’ll have to wear something else.”

You found it hard not to imagine he planned for this to happen.

“MC,” Satan called, suddenly appearing at your door before you got the chance to start cursing at Asmodeus for ruining your clothes. “Lucifer wants to talk to you before you go.”

You checked your DDD for the time. 6:46 PM. You were supposed to be at Purgatory Hall by seven. You really didn’t have time for this.

“The worst you’re allowed to pack are shorts!” You warmed Asmodeus, before following Satan out the door.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you’re nice and comfortable!”

—

“MC! You’re finally here!” Luke jumped into your view like an excited puppy as soon as the doors were opened by Simeon.

The older angel greeted you with his usual warm and welcoming smile, “Hello, little lamb.”

You felt your face heat up at the endearing nickname he has chosen to give you. You ducked your head to hide the embarrassment evident on your face. “Hello, Simeon.”

“I trust she’ll be safe with you,” Lucifer said, pointedly looking at Simeon with his intense gaze.

“Of course, she’s safe with us!” Luke barked, crossing his arms, “It’s an angel’s job to keep humans safe. Unlike you demons who only-”

Simeon calmly put his gloved hand over Luke’s mouth, which was still trying to spew off insults at Lucifer, and chuckled, “MC will be perfectly safe with me, I promise.”

Your ears perked up at the specificity of his statement and you had no doubt he was telling the truth.

That confirmation was all Lucifer needed to feel better about leaving you there for the night and not under his protection.

“I will see you tomorrow, then,” Lucifer whispered to you, dipping down to press a parting kiss to your forehead. His hardened expression melted away for just a second as he gazed down at you. “Goodnight, my dear.”

“Goodnight, Lucifer.” You waved to the Avatar of Pride as he departed.

When you turned back to the angels, you noticed Simeon’s sullen expression, uncharacteristic for the always pleasant angel. Once he noticed your gaze, he shifted back to his usual handsome smile. You wanted to ask what was wrong, how you could help him, but Luke, eager to get the night started, grabbed your hand to pull you across the threshold into Purgatory Hall.

“Come on, MC! I already baked a whole batch of cookies to eat while we watch movies all night! There’s no way I’m falling asleep early!”

—

Luke was practically bouncing off the walls, from excitement or the sugar rush after eating seven cookies in the span of ten minutes, when you finally settled down in the living room for the movie.

He cozied up beside you, cuddling into your side like a clingy baby puppy but you could already tell he was beginning to nod off halfway through the film.

“MC.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the soft voice leaned into your ear, gloved fingers brushing gently against your shoulder. Simeon appeared behind you. The warmth of his body sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Oops, did I frighten you?” He asked innocently. His hand fell away from you but the heat still lingered.

“N-Not at all.”

“I was going to ask if you wanted to change into your pajamas. You’re free to use the restroom down the hall next to Solomon’s room.”

Now that you thought of it, you hadn’t seen the suspicious sorcerer yet. Would he be joining you all for the slumber party or was this a strictly angels and you event?

“Yeah, sure that’ll be more comfortable."

“Do you need me to show you the way?”

“No, I’ve got it. Thank you, Simeon.”

You had been to Purgatory Hall a few times for some study sessions and had gotten used to the layout by now. Plus, you’d like to drop in on Solomon just to say hello to your fellow human exchange student.

You may not have spent as much time with Solomon as you did with the demon brothers, but you did enjoy his presence. After all, powerful sorcerer or not, he was still a fellow human from the human world. On the rare occasions you did spend time with him, it was filled with chatter about human world memes and pop culture.

Before your stop at Solomon’s door, you entered the bathroom. With your backpack propped on the sink, you unzipped it and peeked inside.

To your horror, the white, lacy negligee you plucked out of the bag taunted you with its sheer fabric. You dived back into the bag, ripping out Asmodeus’s box of chocolates to find nothing else stuffed in the bag—no T-shirt, no ugly pajama pants. There was only a pair of lacy white underwear and the negligee.

You sunk to the tiled floors and resisted the urge to curse out Asmodeus for doing exactly what you said not to do. Instead of thinking about yelling at him, you pulled out your DDD and brought up his chat log.

MC : WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!!! What the hell am I supposed to do now!!!!!!

Asmo : put it on and have some fun~~ <33

“Ah, I hate you so much right now,” you whined out loud, leaning your head against the door. You could sleep in the clothes you have now but the chocolate stain Luke accidentally smeared on your shirt when he got a little too excited about showing you his cookies said otherwise.

There was a knock on the door before you could respond in all caps and tell Asmodeus what you really thought about his idea.

“MC? You in there?”

It was Solomon.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Simeon told me to let you know Luke fell asleep so he’s taking him to bed.”

You huffed—so much for staying up all night.

You heard Solomon’s footsteps begin to retreat and pushed yourself off the ground to call after him. After opening the door, you stopped him before he was too far down the hall. “Wait! Can I borrow a T-shirt?”

The sorcerer’s eyebrows rose but his expression soon melted into his usual mischievous grin. “Too excited to pack properly?”

“More like Asmo thinks it fun to meddle with my clothes.”

A knowing look crossed his face, and you wondered exactly what he knew. Had he been in this kind of predicament with Asmodeus before?

“I see. I’ll get one for you then.”

You thanked him as he departed to his room and shut the bathroom door once again. You stuffed the ‘pajamas’ back into your bag and reached for the chocolate box. A chocolate or two would calm your agitation. Though the chocolates were from Asmodeus as well; there was no telling what he had done to them. You didn’t care that much at the moment as you unboxed them and tossed a piece into your mouth.

The sweet taste was accompanied by a fruity aftertaste that almost left you feeling like you were floating and you nearly moaned. It was better than anything you’d had in a while.

Solomon was knocking again. “MC? I’ve got a shirt.”

You hardly heard, too entrapped by the chocolate to notice. You stuffed the chocolates back into your bad and opened the door to greet the handsome sorcerer extending one of his black shirts to you.

You thanked him and shut the door again to quickly change, hardly caring about the way your palms felt a little clammy as you slipped off your pants or your chest was tightening. The shirt smelt of him—surprisingly minty. Some buried part of yourself wanted to stuff your face into it and inhale deeply, to have nothing but him surround you.

When you left the bathroom, dressed in nothing but your panties and Solomon’s shirt and backpack in hand, you found the sorcerer still standing in the hall.

His eyes were quick to move to your bare legs, his shirt covering only half of your thighs, and they were slow to trail up to your eyes.

“I should… go.” You excuse yourself, even though you’d rather discover what that look in his eyes was.

“Still planning on watching the movie without Luke?”

“I think it would be better if I just went to bed.” You were starting to feel a bit warm—unusual considering this was the Devildom, a place perpetually cold.

“That’s too bad,” he lamented, “I wanted to show you a new spell I’ve been working on.”

You perked up. “Spell?”

“One word—control,” he offered, hushed like a secret meant only for you.

You looped your arm around his and dragged him towards his bedroom. His side close to yours didn’t help the heat slowly spreading through you. “Two words: Demonstration. Now,” You demanded.

His hint didn’t give you the slightest clue as to what he was talking about but you were excited nonetheless. You always found his magic fascinating to observe. Being new to the whole realm of magic and demons made you incredibly curious. You were human after all; it was in your nature to be curious.

Once you flung open his door, you were met with green vines crawling up the walls, spilling over desks, and hitting you right in the face.

“Not what I expected,” you said, moving aside the vine, to push deeper into the overtaken room. You weren’t sure what you were expecting; when he said control you were hoping for something…exciting.

You tugged at the collar of your shirt.

Exciting as in domination, holding you down, going down on-

“Just wait.”

You sat on his bed, starting at the ceiling and hoping the cool sheets would take away the heat of your skin. It was beginning to ache—ache more than just surface level irritation; it was growing between your thighs. You crossed your legs and bit your lower lip when the ache turned into a throb.

“Better be good,” you muttered. Your excitement was dwindling, being replaced by the desire to slip your hand between your thighs. When you tried taking a breath, you realized your breathing was growing ragged. Your skin felt like it was on fire, heat coursed through your body at the slightest movement.

“MC.”

You turned your head only to find Solomon’s right next to yours. You didn’t notice when he sat down. It’d be easy to lean in and kiss him and you never realized how badly you wanted to kiss him.

“Yes?” You breathed. So easy… just one kiss. Your fingers tentatively slid over the skin of your thighs, attempting to calm the heat between them.

The sorcerer watched, dragging his eyes from your hand over your body clothed in his shirt. “Everything alright?”

“No.”

He raised a brow.

“I just,” you wanted to shut your mouth, “really need you, Solomon.”

You wanted to bury yourself into the ground. Sure, the sorcerer was handsome, smart, and you definitely had a crush on him but you didn’t want to admit to it—not like this. Your face warmed, not from need but embarrassment.

His lips quirked as if he were fighting off a smile. “While I would normally never say no, especially to you, I have a feeling there’s more to this.”

You whimpered, “Please, ‘m serious.”

His hand came up to press against your cheek and you leaned into it, desperate for any contact. The need grew, demanding to be satiated.

He frowned. “You’re burning up.”

“No time to play doctor.” Your hands grabbed him to keep on your skin. “Just kiss me.”

“I’m getting Simeon.”

You groaned, not only was he trying to pull away, but he was getting an angel. It was not the time to bring in an angel when all you wanted was to be pressed into Solomon’s mattress and fucked. Though, your traitorous mind thought, you wouldn’t mind Simeon being witness.

“Be a good girl and stay,” he said, standing up.

When you refused to let go of his hand, a tendril from one of the vines slithered around your wrist and yanked you back with so much force you fell against the bed.

So that was what he meant by control.

“I said be good.” The tendril tightened around your wrist, taking hold of the other one as well and drawing your arms over your head.

He walked toward the door and the ache burned hotter, twisting you insides with every step he took further away from you.

“No, wait,” you whined and writhed, “h-hurts. It hurts.”

Concern bled onto his features. “I’ll be back.”

When he slipped from the room, the tears came. Your insides were being torn apart; the fire on your skin grew into an inferno, eating away at your flesh. You needed him back. You needed his hands on you again—to slip between your thighs and make the pain go away.

You were hyper aware of the door opening again and two men slipping into the room.

“Please,” you begged, “I’ll be good for you, swear.”

“Oh, dear,” the gentle voice of Simeon was a relief, only momentarily. Neither of them were touching you. They weren't even near you. They hovered at the end of the bed, observing as you writhed and cried.

“Swear I’ll be good,” you repeated, nearly delirious, as you tugged at your restraints. “Good, so good.”

“Was there something in the cookies?” You could hear Solomon questioning.

“No, I watched Luke make them; nothing was added that a human couldn’t consume.”

Footsteps drew near the side of the bed and your left side dipped when one of them sat. You turned your head and found Simeon; concern drew his brows together.

“Did you eat anything else besides those cookies?”

“Chocolates,” you managed to wheeze out. “Bag.”

Solomon took your backpack and searched it, pulling out the box of chocolates Asmodeus gifted you. He opened the top and sniffed the contents. “A powerful aphrodisiac,” he grimaced.

You wanted to groan but it came out as a low moan instead. Of course, Asmodeus gave you a box of chocolates laced with aphrodisiacs for your totally innocent sleepover. You couldn’t have one relaxing night away from the brothers without them causing some sort of chaos.

“Do you want us to call Lucifer?” Simeon asked, wiping away the tear tracking down your temples with his gloved thumb.

You whimpered, “no, want you.”

Shit.

Another confession down for the sweet and caring angel. You might as well confess to your crush on the demon prince and his butler while you were at it.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

You nodded, afraid if you opened your mouth again you would describe every explicit detail of your current thoughts.

The vines around your wrist squeezed. Solomon tsked, “Use your words.”

He snaked toward your other side and rested his hands on your exposed thigh. You spread your legs to give him permission to slip his hand between them. When you attempted to wiggle your hips down to get him closer to where you wanted him, the vines locked you in place.

You had no choice but to speak. “Yes, yes, I want you—both of you.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Solomon said. Any hesitation from before was gone. His fingers drifted higher, pushing your shirt up his path until he reached the edge of your panties. He traced the lace material. “Interesting choice.”

You almost forgot you ended up slipping on the pair of panties Asmodeus packed in your haze.

You almost choked when Solomon’s hand brushed the seam of your clothed slit.

“Don’t tease her; you need to help her quickly or the effects can turn dangerous,” Simeon instructed. He hadn’t moved from his spot, hands remained in his lap as he observed.

You could hardly understand a word they were saying that didn’t involve your pleasure. The word dangerous would’ve made you panic in your right mind but the lust building inside you made every other rational sense dull.

“You can help too,” Solomon said, looping his finger through your panties and dragging it down one agonizing inch at a time. “An angel should help humans in their times of need. And I think this is definitely a time of great need. ”

“I shouldn’t-” He faltered when he saw the slick of your arousal clinging to your underwear as Solomon finally pulled them off you. His hands clenched. Angel from Celestia or not, there was desire pooling behind his eyes.

You wanted to reach out and grab his hand, to reassure him you wanted it.

Solomon ignored the turmoil brewing within the angel and spread your thighs apart. Hungry eyes took you in. “Pretty,” he murmured as he leaned closer, warm breath blowing across your core. When you whined, he chuckled, “don’t worry I won’t tease you anymore.”

His tongue pressed flat against your cunt and he moaned from the sweet taste of you. Then the slow flicks from the tip of his tongue over your clit forced a cry from your lips as you rocked your hips into Solomon’s mouth.

“Not too loud,” Simeon said, his thumb brushing over your lip. “You’ll wake Luke.”

Your tongue darted out to swipe along the tip of his thumb, tasting only the cotton of his glove. Your teeth bit down on the fabric and when his hand pulled back the glove fell away, revealing his smooth, bare skin. You wanted to taste him, even if it was just the salt of his fingers.

You parted your lips again, wanting to beg for him, but the glove was shoved into your mouth.

“Quiet,” Simeon ordered in a tone you weren’t familiar with. Stern, demanding, and it only aroused you further.

You released a muffled moan when two of Solomon’s long, slender fingers stuffed themselves into your dripping core.

“You’re so wet. Wanna come on my fingers?” Solomon asked, almost mesmerized as his fingers slid in and out of you with ease, coating them from tip to knuckle. “Fuck—I know you do. Look at that face.”

Your eyes were too heavy to open, brows furrowed as his fingers continued to work, circling and pressing against that spot inside of you that made your back arch and fingers dig into the sheets.

“Why don’t you come on my fingers first? Then you can ride my cock like a good girl; Simeon’s too, if he’ll let you.”

Your eyes cracked open just to glance at Simeon, who was too focused on Solomon’s fingers. With Solomon’s focus on your cunt, the vines around your wrist loosened enough for your hand to creep toward the growing bulge in Simeon’s pants. Fingers over his thighs and just about brushing against him, he caught your hand and laced it in his.

“Just be good and he’ll give you what you need.”

You knew he was holding back. The look in his eyes said more, hungered for you. His fingers untangled from yours and began to trace up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Then he shifted from his spot on the bed and lifted you slightly just so he could slip beneath your head. Your head rested on his thigh. His hand pulled the shirt higher, thumb lightly brushing beneath your breast.

“Focus on him,” Simeon instructed.

“Yeah,” Solomon grunted. His other hand grabbed your jaw, forcing your gaze to fall back to him. “Watch me.”

His fingers continued working you up and up. Your cunt clenched around his fingers as the burning ache of the aphrodisiac was replaced by a new ache for release. You rocked your hips as your breaths grew stuttered.

“That's it,” Solomon murmured, thumb brushing over your sensitive clit. “You’re doing so good.”

The stimulation on your clit along with Simeon’s hand brushing over your pert nipple was enough for you to tip over the edge. You let out a cry around Simeon’s glove when you finally came. Your thighs tensed around Solomon’s hand and your back arched while your hips rode out your high.

“Good girl,” Simeon said, petting your sweat matted hair and he pulled the glove from your mouth. Your pants filled the room. When your breathing evened out he asked, “how are you feeling?”

You swallowed, mouth feeling too dry to speak. The pain was gone; you were relieved. But, something still lingered—desire. You wanted them—closer, deeper.

“I… still need more.”

Hands caressed your sides and helped you sit up. You came face to face with Solomon, who wore a hungry smile on his face.

“Don’t worry; I wasn’t done.”

He maneuvered himself against the headboard of his bed and manhandled you onto his lap. He slipped off his dark turtleneck, exposing his pale chest and sculpted stomach.

You felt his erection press against your core and you couldn’t help but clench, eager to have him inside you.

“Go ahead.” Solomon nodded. “Take what you want.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands reached for the buckle and freed him from his pants easily. You bit down on your lip when you saw his cock, leaking with precum. You wanted a taste, but it’d have to wait—you needed him desperately.

You rose onto your knees, angled him against your opening, and sank. Falling deeper and deeper into a warm enveloping pleasure, you took him easily.

Solomon let out a breathless curse in your ear once you took all of him. His hand found your hips and down to the curve of your ass. “Fuck, you feel good. Now, come on. Ride me.”

You lifted yourself off his cock slowly, savoring the drag of his length sliding through your slick walls, before throwing yourself back down. You moaned, dragging your hands from his stomach to his shoulders to give yourself support as you rode him.

You jolted when another set of hands moved down your side.

“Simeon,” you moaned.

One of his hands trailed your waist, slipping over the curve of your stomach where he could press against the shape of Solomon’s cock inside you, and the other caressed your breasts. His hand moved lower, brushing over your sensitive clit and toyed with it until you were crying his name.

A quick swat on your ass had you yelping.

Solomon tsked, “It’s almost like you’re forgetting who’s cock is in you.”

He took over, thrusting into you with a faster pace than you had set, hitting a spot in you that made the coil in your stomach tighten.

You whimpered, burying your head into his neck, “ngh, ‘m close.”

“Me too.” Solomon’s thrusts were growing stuttered as your cunt continued to clench around him. “Come on; come with me.”

It only took a few more thrusts before you came again, your hips half their movement as you let your orgasm ride through you. Solomon wasn’t far behind; after a few more thrusts, he came inside you with a drawn out moan.

You lay limply against his chest, catching your breath.

“Let’s clean you up.”

You were lifted off of Solomon, wincing when you slid off with a wet pop and felt the mix of your releases dripping from you.

Simeon was quick to get you cleaned up in your haze, cleaning between your legs with a damp towel and drying away any sweat.

By the time you came back to your senses, you were being tucked into Solomon’s bed.

“Wait.” You frowned. “What about you?”

Simeon smiled; he pressed an all too sweet lingering kiss to your temple. “Don’t worry about me. You just need to rest.”

Your frown only deepened. You wanted to argue, but your eyelids felt too heavy. Sleep called, almost like a spell had been put over you.

“Good night, my little lamb.”

—

When Lucifer arrived the next morning, expecting to walk you back home after a restful slumber party with the angels, he nearly flew into a rage upon learning you were— ahem —rendered immobile from the night before. It took a few words of reassurance from you to quell his fury, but it was soon directed towards Asmo when he learned about the chocolates.

Lucifer promised he would return the next morning, hoping you’d be rested enough to return to the House of Lamentation, and left, muttering about a punishment for a certain demon when he got back home.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

no one has said anything to me about this yet so i'm coming out and saying it myself

IGNIHYDE DUO (trio) REALLY WERE BOOK 7 MVPS. HOLY CRAP 😭 Of course, that's not to talk down the contributions of the other characters (like damn, did Silver's UM come in clutch, and everyone had their own moments) but!! Right now, there's already a lot of talk about Diasomnia--for good reason, it's their book--so I want to give Ignihyde their stars too.

Like Silver said at the party, none of this would be possible without them and help from S.T.Y.X.! It was Ortho's very nature of being a robot that allowed him a loophole to reach out to Idia and navigate the dreams. Otherwise, Silver would be dream hopping randomly and it would take so much longer to invite all the relevant people. Ortho also helps S.T.Y.X. gather data about the current situation on Sage's Island. And--MAY I ADD????--at one point, Ortho was confronted by THE Malleus Draconia, who threatened to end him on the spot with lightning (which, may I remind you, is something Ortho's official profile states he dislikes). Not only that, but to be brave enough to believe in his brother not rejecting him in favor of a reality in which OG!Ortho never died... ORTHO'S BITE SIZED BUT HE'S SO BRAVE

Then Idia????? He provided a ton of useful support. Making that cheat tool, summoning everyone, coding in all those hacks, explaining what's going on in a way that's easy to digest (and that video????), TELLING MALLEUS TO HIS FACE HE'S TURNING INTO THE RULER OF EVIL... Rushing in to send the sword flying at Malleus when Silver dropped it??????? And can we talk about how he's so pathetically out of shape but pushes himself to sprint to the meeting point anyway?! HIS MOMENT ON THE MAGICAL WHEEL???!??!?!?????? 💀 (otaku) PRINCE RIDING IN ON A (mechanical) HORSE

Let's not forget OG!Ortho too!! He may exist only as an entity in Idia's dream space, but it's so clear he's important too. Maybe not as a physical force, but definitely as emotional support OTL OG!Ortho being so friendly with Idia but then deciding to stand in his way as a "final boss" to test Idia's resolve??? Him sending Idia off by telling him "the entire world is waiting for you", not genuinely wanting to trap him in the cold, dark Underworld... His reappearance in the Ignihyde battle map against Malleus??? POLITELY GREETING MALLEUS AND THEN CASUALLY COMPLIMENTING ORTHO ON HIS NEW GEAR??? I can't with this cuteness 🤡 AND THE WAY ALL THREE OF THEM CALL EACH OTHER BROTHERS...

qebhlqeviyo ygiFWIQEBGT26 1387TGOEBIADGDADBGIPN anNYWAY THAT'S ALL TO sAy I SALuTE THE SHROUD BROTRHERSE 🫡 THEy HARD cARRiED AnD BECAmE THE hEROES THEY WAnTED TO BE AS KIDS… Dreams do come true after all, fellas ❤️

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have a hilarious idea, can I have a request for Dante with a s/o who payed attention to a marketable plushie of him?

Like, a tsum tsum plush version of him? Imagine he tried his ways and even annoyed his s/o (or even tried to get rid of it). It's funny to see him getting jealous of a plush version of him.

Dante stared at the little plush you had left on accident. It was small -not enough to fill even the palm of his hand- blessed with a intentionally cute face that made you wanna buy it upon first glance, the damn plushy was harmless and in no way hurting anyone with it's placement, but it pissed Dante off as a scowl came across his face.

'i hate you little plush bastard, no matter how handsome you look becuase you took the attention and love of my sweetheart,' Dante said as he leaned down towards the plush until they were face to face, 'but just remebered your looks came from me and no one can replace the orignal heartthrob you second rate-'

'Dante are you threatning my tsum tsum plush?' your voice made Dante stop to look over at you, standing in the doorway with a look of amuesment cross your face, before straighting his posture as a easy going smile graced his lips.

'no, i wasn't threatning the little guy i was just...welcoming him into our life.' Dante replies, giving the innocent plush the evil side eye as though waiting for the thing to suddenly develop the ability to talk or just grow legs and walk away and out your lives for good, just so Dante can stake claim to your attention and affection once again.

You looked unconvincingly at him, finding his sudden jealously of an plush toy the most hilarious thing yoiu have ever seen. You guessed it was because of Dante's demon side not taking lightly to having to fight for your attention, not after being the main recipient of your love for such a long time; so much that even a small thing as a plushy was a unwanted threat.

Possessive half demons were defintely funny things especially if what they were jealous of were of no consequence at all, it was adorable, but it was also an unecessary jealousy that can also prove to be a headache when trying to reason with a half demon; especially one who thinks he's being replaced with a plush toy.

'Sure you're not because to me it looks like you were trying to make the poor thing combust.' you replied as you moved across the room and past Dante to pick up the plush look alike of your partner, holding it close to your chest as you could see the fury and jealously rage within his eyes, you swore you could've heard a warning growl come from the back of his throat which made you raise your brow at him. 'don't tell me you're jealous of a stuffed toy, one that looks exactly like you to be more specific.' you added, holding the plush closer to your chest, just to hear that warning growl coming from Dante once more.

'do- do you really need to be holding the damn thing so closely to your chest like that? i just-' Dante couldn't formulate words as his mind was too busy filled with the jealous rage that consumed his inner demon, who demanded that he tore that thing from your arms and shooting it to bits. Yet while he managed to withhold himself from doing so, that doesn't stop him from becoming envious of how close the plush got to be to your chest, to listen to your heart and it's unique song that use to sing in his ear at night or when he wanted a cuddle.

'are jealous.' You teased with a massive grin painted across your face, raising the plush of Dante to your lips before tucking the small thing under your chin, as though you were trying to hug it as though it was a living, breathing human and laughing softly to yourself upon hearing Dante's poor attempt to hide his jealousy from taking over him completely. You knew you were playing with fire, but you didn't know when you were going to bare witness to something like this again, something you could lightheartedly tease him about in the future in good nature before reminding him that no one could replace him; not even a plush lookalike.

'no!' Dante almost barked.

you shrugged. 'okay if you say so, me and mini Dante will be spending quality time together.' as you were about to move out of the room and within the blink of an eye and you were tucked within Dante's arms with his head burried in your neck, while the plush that was held closely to you was flung to the farthest corner of the room by an inhuman force, as though something had thrown it with all the hate in their heart. poor thing.

'Was that necessary Dante? are you happy now?' you asked as you felt his arms tighten on your waist as he nosed at your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin as his warning growls became purrs of content and happiness now that the threat to your heart was eliminated. 'mine.' He murmuered. 'All mine with no one to share with, not anymore.' He adds as he felt a weight lift from his chest and shoulders and a light feeling replaced it, knowing that he didn't have to compet for you anymore, there was only one person worthy of being your mate and that was him and he'd prove it time and time again.

you let out a wholehearted laugh as you lean back into him, making him purr louder. 'You're unbelievable.' you said, kissing the mop of white hair that tickled your neck and shoulder.

Dante didn't care in this moment as he contiued to hang off of you even as you continued your day like a leech. 'He was going to take you away from me, couldn't let that happen.' he awnsers but you couldn't help but believe that it was the demon within him speaking through him.

'He was a plush Dante. There is no competition for my heart, why do you think i made sure the plush looked like you silly?' You questioned with amuesment as Dante only burried his face in deeper into your neck, his cheeks somewhat flushed and felt warm against you, as though he was trying to either fuse with you or hide himself behind you through the act of cuddling you from behind.

'can we just cuddle now ad forget all about this?' was his response and you decided to get off his back about his unwarrented jealously and kiss his head, whispering 'of course we can baby, of course we can.'