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gumii-bearr · 5 months ago

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thinking about the first time megumi calls you a pet name.

you’d been dating for a while, a few months at that point, but he was always reluctant to use a pet name for you.

he preferred to call you by your name or the nickname everyone gives you.

but maybe it’s yuji that changes his mind.

“wait— fushiguro, you don’t call her baby? or sweetie? pookie maybe?? just y/n?”

“…that’s her name.”

but the thought lingers for weeks and he starts thinking about all the things that you call him.

“hey, gumi!”

“hi, baby,” before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“oh my god, gumi you have to see this!”

“thank you, sweet boy—“

since when did you start giving him pet names? perhaps it’s because it sounds so natural coming from you. you say cute pet names with such confidence behind them that he barely registers that you’re the only one who calls him those things.

there are a few failed attempts where the cute pet name he totally didn’t spend hours thinking about in his dorm last night, gets stuck in his throat and he just ends up hiding his red face in the collar of his jacket.

pet names don’t come naturally to megumi. before he met you, he thought pet names were sort of cringey and lame, that they sounded stupid.

but he feels so fuzzy when you say them, your smile bright and beaming, your sparkly eyes making him weak at the knees and the adorable pet name sending a jab right through his chest.

so there’s a second attempt.

and a third,

and a fourth,

before he gets it out without stuttering over his words and wishing the floor would swallow him whole because you didn’t hear him or it came out as a choked cough rather than an actual word—

“hi baby! i picked us up some pizza… i thought we could catch up on our watch list tonight.”

and megumi gulps back the lump in his throat, clammy hands clutching the material of his sweats—

“sounds good… babe.”

and you pause, a smile beaming across your face and you slowly turn to him.

“what was that—?”

“nothing.”

“no, what did you call me?”

“forget it.”

“wait, don’t be embarrassed, gumi!”

“too late, i’m going to ask shoko for her strongest shit so i can forget what just happened—“

and you giggle, tugging on his sleeve as he attempts to writhe away from you on the bed, pressing his face into the nearest pillow as you clamber over him with a cheeky smile.

“did you call me a pet name mr. fushiguro?”

“and i’ll regret it til i die.”

“oh, boo.”

safe to say he tends to stick with calling you your name or your offical nickname, but there are some rarer occasions where it slips out.

like when he’s unbelievably tired and sore from a day of sparring and missions, and he sneaks into your dorm and crawls into bed with you.

“long day, hm?”

“mm, i feel better now though.”

and you stroke his hair, “get some sleep then, ‘kay?”

“mhm… thank you, baby.”

and you just smile against his hair, he doesn’t realise what he’s said and it’s better that way, because it makes it a little more special.

#wrote this on my phone lol #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #megumi x reader #jjk megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader fluff #megumi drabble

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whokilledsamara · 8 months ago

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Hello! I don’t usually make requests but i have one could u pretty please if u have time? 🥺

Anyways the request would be like homocipher boys (especially my bbg Mr Crawling) pussy drunk. Pls.

PUSSY DRUNK

a very short fic for a few of the Homicipher boys. {Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood}. Homicipher x afab!reader.

warnings! : each are different so a bit of violence, neediness, switch!reader, smut, porn, PORN NO PLOT!!! almost all of them are cunnilingus

{an: if you meant a fic with all of them in a gangbang sense, you can send in another request}

MR. CRAWLING

"Not now Mr. Crawling, im busy." you say softly, gently petting his head as he tugs at your skirt. "Please..", he practically begs, his lips turned into a pout.

he was always so desperate to please you, stopping at nothing as long as it made you happy. his eager face made it so hard to resist, and with a sigh, you gently part your legs before continuing to use your hands with what you were doing.

almost as soon as you do so, his face is shoved as far as it can go, a whine leaving his lips as he has to pull away to remove your underwear. a giggle escapes you while you watch.

...

"mngh.. fuck, please.." the words slipped so effortlessly from your lips, Mr. Crawling's head so deep between those legs of yours that you couldnt think straight.

your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging often. whines left him almost constantly, his hands holding up your thighs on his shoulders and off the chair. "Me want, More" he states softly, his voice muffled as he stares up at you, the lower half of his face still stuffed between your thighs.

as you nod softly, he hums and shoves two of his long and slender fingers inside of you, effortlessly curling them upwards towards your g-spot. "a-ah..!" your voice hits a high peak at the sudden intrusion, legs trembling as yet another orgasm rips through you, despite how many you had previously.

as overstimulated as you were, the man between your legs gives a few more licks to your clit, slowly pulling away. as he sits up, Mr. Crawling stares up at you with a cheeky grin, his chin covered in your juices. "Good." ..... "Big, Good."

MR. SCARLETELLA

as usual, he was feeling needy.

every since you pretty much marked him as your "slave", he has been near you at all times, getting upset whenever you interact with others instead of him.

this time in particular though, you watched tears fall from his eyes as he stared up at you with a desperate expression. despite the cold look on your face, and the amount of times you rejected him, he still pleads. "Please." he whines, his hands trembling against your thighs. "Please what..? not this again." you ask, glaring down at him. his hands grab at your raincoat, face a pleading mess.

"Need, You." he begs. you think for a second, a long exasperated sigh leaving your lips before you finally do what he always dreamed of. you roll your eyes, head tilting to a nod. that was all the conformation he needed.

...

hours had gone by, your unfortunate yet aching cunt so desperately clenched around his tongue, his hands clawing at your thighs.

his skilled tongue circled your clit an uncanny amount of times, his pace never slowing. "A-ah wait.. wait i cant.. fuccckk.." another orgasm ripped through you and then, only then, did his pace falter. "You, Like?" he asked, pulling his face up from your legs with an uncanny glare.

you nod many times, his smile only growing wider. his lips lean in and press against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as much as you denied your feelings for the man, you couldn't think of anything but how good he felt and tasted. with a thoughtful groan, you wiggle your finger at him, signaling for him to stand. immediately he obeys, face flushed and juices dripping down his chin. your eyes are locked on his for a second before you speak in a demanding tone.

"Take off your pants."

MR. SILVAIR

he was NEVER needy. so why was today different?

one of the other residents had managed to piss him off so much that he couldn't think straight. his usually calm demeanor shifted completely dark, not even a hint of his usual smile on his face.

even Mr. Chopped seemed worried, asking softly if he was okay. Mr. Silvair ignored him, his gaze fixated on your eyes. he nods his head to his "research room", silently instructing you to go. he follows closely behind you, the heavy door slamming shut and locking you both in the room.

...

a huff leaves his lips as his hands angrily lift you up and slam you on his examination table, ass up for him, with little to no way for you to escape.

"W-what are you doing? Whats wrong?.. Mr. Silvair-!" you ask hurriedly, hands scrambling to find something to grab. he ignores your pleas and hikes up your raincoat, forcing off your panties with one quick motion. you couldn't see him as you tried to look behind you, but you felt him sink to his knees. "H-hey- ah..!-" your words are cut off with a moan as his long, snakelike tongue slips between your folds.

Mr. Silvair's strong hands keep you spread with ease, giving him full access as he greedily eats your pussy like its the last meal on earth. "Stop Squirming." his usually calm voice turns dark, his fingers digging a touch deeper into your hips as he keeps you held up for him.

as hard as you can, you attempt to keep your hips still. his tongue reaches as deep as it can reach, making you harshly bite your lip and see stars, juices running down his face as you finally orgasm. "A-ah right there--fuck! please.." your begs go unnoticed as he releases you and stands, walking out of the room without another glance. seemingly, this little outburst would hold him down for a while.

be glad it was only his tongue this time.

MR. GAP

a while after you got used to your residency at the complex, you learned your lesson about walking near the gaps.

the man who always seemed to appear at the worst moments, would mainly only mess with you. usually, it would only be a small poke as your ankle as you walked by, a tug at your hair when you had your back turned, or small scares he would pull off.

eventually you learned to ignore it, or altogether stay away from the walls, but unfortunately for you, today was a day you slipped up. as careless as it seemed, you were walking on your own, tiredness taking over your expression. the day was hectic, having to deal with more than one entity at a time.

a sudden yelp escapes your throat as you are yanked by your arm into a small opening in the wall. your back ends up pressed against the nearest wall, Mr. Gap's face level with yours with that sick, uncanny expression he always has.

you huff and use your hand to push at his face, the ever so sassy man rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist. "You're No, Fun." he grumbles, hands fumbling with your shorts. "The fuck are you doing?" you mutter as a hushed yell, eyes glaring at his.

the grin on his face grows wider as he shoves off your pants, before suddenly dissolving into nothing. your eyes dart around, confusion evident in your expression until a sudden whine leaves your lips at an unknown feeling hits your core.

looking down, you find Mr. Gap nose deep in between your legs, eyes locked on yours as he smirks into you. your hand shoots down to grab his hair, attempting to pull him away as embarrassment fills your expression. though unluckily for you, or luckily depending on how you take it,, he doesn't move. instead, he groans into your hand, his hands tighten on your thighs as he pushes his face deeper, licking and sucking anything he can manage.

after many failed orgasms, and many tears from his constant edging, finally after everything he lets you cum, sucking hard enough on your clit to have a loud moan escape you, thighs clenching around his head.

though something tells you he isnt done.

MR. HOOD

as mono tuned as the man was, and as little as expressive as he was, he couldn't help his built up tension.

while no, he didn't understand the concept of love, or at-least he wouldn't admit it- he knew and felt the need for touch.

he often would allow you inside of his coat, usually just chilling in there or whatever you called it- but you never saw it as anything more than companionship. or so he figured. the moment he felt you experiment by placing your hand just above his crotch, his views changed.

with little to no effort, Mr. Hood plucked you out of his coat, setting you gently on the nearest table. he stared at you for a second, chest heavy. he could definitely sense your confusion- but as he kept his gaze on you, he reached out to grab your leg, his oddly feeling hand sat calmly on the inside of your thigh. "May, Touch?" Mr. Hood asked, an almost worried tone in his words. quicker than he could get his words out, you were nodding.

his body stilled for a second, almost as if he was debating his life choices, but ultimately decided to continue. gentle fingers reach under your raincoat, tugging down your panties with ease. and while he would never admit it, he quite greatly enjoyed the small sounds you made when his fingers traced your lips.

he hesitates for a second, before pushing a single ghostly finger inside. it was oddly cold, but felt so good inside of you as he worked his way in. a long moan leaves you, your hands reaching out to grab his arms.

one of his tentacles shoots out, replacing his finger that instead opted for your clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles. "Oh fuck.." you breathe out, legs trembling at your embarrassingly close orgasm. "I-im gonna c- mmngh!!" a hushed scream leave you as the tentacle curls, thrusting hard at your G-spot. it sends you over the edge, your juices flowing down your thighs and around the appendage. with a sigh, he pulls out, seemingly pleased.

"Turn Around."

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 7 days ago

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Do you still miss him?

That was what the text red from your ex-bestfriend. She had been there for you the countless nights of you sobbing against her chest. She had been there the night you had finally had the guts to block him, and you ate an entire carton of ice cream afterwards due to the stress. She was present during the entire toxic relationship founded upon the very antithesis of codependency.

The day you found out she had been sleeping with him throughout your entire relationship was the day you stopped trusting insecure girls who talked bad about everyone behind their back. They only ever sought out validation and would destroy relationships just to get it.

A picture was attached to the message. There she was, cuddled in next to your ex-boyfriend in his bed. You can tell due to his color of sheets and pillow cases. He probably never even changed them. Gross. If this picture had been sent six months ago, you would have been emotionally destroyed, but you were stronger now. Healed. Emotionally satiated in your life.

You look over to your current… Well, it was a situationship, but it had been the most fulfilling relationship you had ever been in.

“Care to help me make a couple of people jealous? They’re your students, but it’s fine if not.”

“Public displays of affection? Are we finally at that level in your eyes?” he asked with a cheeky grin, already walking towards you. That’s right. You had been the one to keep things between you and him under wraps, not giving it a label for at least a couple more months. After all, he was a professor at the university you went to.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky comment, and you positioned him in front of a mirror before bending over slightly in front of him. Your ass delicately rubbed against his clothed dick.

“You may wanna hurry up and take the picture before I pop a boner and my students know just how big I am,” he jokingly laughed, but he was dead serious about the boner part. You had the ability to make him get hard quickly like he was a teenager again.

You giggled and snapped the photo, sending it back to your friend.

No, you can have him xx btw your professor wants you to know your paper is due by tonight

You sent the picture and text to her, and you let out a breath, releasing the tension in your shoulders. It was finally like you could let that piece of you go now. While your break up was hard, losing your best friend was even harder, but they deserved each other with how vile they both were.

Large pale hands reached over and snatched the phone from your hands, and you looked up to see cerulean blue eyes staring back down at you. Satoru Gojo was the eye candy of the university. A physics professor who was every bit of nerdy as he was charming and charismatic.

“You know how to really make them jealous, right?” he asked, giving you that devilish grin that made you feel weak in the knees.

You shook your head in response, not trusting your voice to not sound flustered. Satoru just had that effect on you even after you two had been seeing each other for a bit now. “Make it official with me.”

Just something small I thought of after seeing that tiktok trend floating around <3

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

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asiatic-apple · 17 days ago

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Pain reliever

aka slow, injured sex

Caleb x female reader

Words: 2k

Recommended listening: caleb’s pained grunts in farewell intimacy (lol i’m being cheeky)

Caleb winces as you dab antiseptic on a shallow gash across his ribs. “That one looks worse than it feels,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant even as you catch him gritting his teeth.

You ignore the way he brushes it off, acting like it doesn’t matter that he’s covered in scrapes and bruises and still drenched in sweat from the fight. He always downplays his injuries—and if you try to call him out on it, he just says he learned it from you. It’s aggravating, to say the least.

But even through your annoyance, your hands are steady, practiced at cleaning up various injuries as a Hunter. Your body, on the other hand, hasn’t gotten the memo to chill the fuck out and just focus on taking care of Caleb.

Your thighs keep pressing together, tightening reflexively every time he hisses or groans under your touch. There’s something about the way he looks right now—slumped on the bed in only his criminally tight boxer briefs, flecks of dried blood painting the curve of his abs—that makes heat curl low in your belly.

He looks perfectly wrecked right now.

It’s not like you want him to be in pain. You'd do anything to stop him from getting even the slightest scratch on his flawless skin. But he’s headstrong by nature, and being Colonel means he’s always throwing himself into danger.

Maybe it’s twisted, but you feel a surge of desire every time Caleb is battle-worn like this. Each mark makes him look a bit more dangerous and proves that he’d do anything to keep you from harm—even if it means taking all your hits for you.

It also doesn’t help that he keeps making such sinful sounds. Is he in pain, or is he enjoying this? Who would make these kinds of moans when they’re severely injured?

You start to wonder if he has a masochistic streak. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

His low chuckle breaks your momentary daydream of pulling more of those noises out of him with a very different method. When you drag your gaze away from the sheen of his sweaty muscles and look up at his stupid smug face, he smirks. Even as he’s bloody and beaten up from being cornered by too many Wanderers, he gives you a lopsided, far-too-cocky grin.

“You’re clenching your thighs every time I breathe, pips,” he murmurs with a curious tilt of his head. “You gonna tell me why?”

It doesn’t matter that you scowl and try to play it off. He still raises a brow like he’s daring you to deny it.

“I think,” he says slowly, “someone’s getting a little worked up from patchin’ me up.”

Before you can say anything, he catches your wrist and tugs you forward with a soft grunt, making you straddle him properly. Your other palm braces against the headboard of the bed as you instinctively try not to put too much pressure on him.

He’s so warm beneath you, and his pupils get blown wide as he yanks you even closer, intent on leaving no inch of space between your bodies.

“Wait, you’re injured,” you try to protest.

His grip tightens, refusing to let you pull away. In this newfound position, you can easily feel the growing bulge beneath his underwear, and you can't help but grind down on it just to alleviate some of the ache that was festering between your thighs before.

A groan rumbles in Caleb’s throat as his hands settle on your waist. “I know my limits,” he says softly, smiling up at you like he’d give you anything you desire. “I can handle whatever you throw my way.”

Exhaustion and pain roughen his voice—and the sound of it sends a jolt straight through your core.

“You want me, don’t you?” he asks, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt and teasing you with feather-light touches that leave goosebumps on your skin.

“Well, yeah…but–”

“No buts,” he interrupts playfully.

There’s a gentle tug of your shirt before he hastily tries to get it over your head, even if the big movement makes him wince in pain. Not even your stern look at his discomfort can stop him from pulling it all the way off and flinging it to the side.

When his eyes lock onto your bare chest, he groans softly at the sight of your pebbled nipples.

“If you want me, then you can have me,” he whispers reverently while running his hands up your sides. “Will it make you feel better if I don’t move? You can just…use me.”

It’s too tempting of an offer, and he knows it. He looks at you like your pleasure is the only thing he cares about. And you’re basically done bandaging all his wounds now. Would it really be so bad to take him up on such a delectable offer?

“You promise you’ll tell me if I hurt you or make you uncomfortable?” you ask, holding out your pinky.

Caleb chuckles but links his larger pinky with yours. “Yeah, yeah. I promise, pip-squeak.”

You stare at him for a second longer, tightening your finger around his in a warning that he better stay true to his word. When he just continues smiling back at you with those cute, innocent puppy eyes, you can’t hold back anymore.

You press your mouth to his carefully, and he kisses you back just as slowly—like he’s savoring the taste of you. The softness of it reminds you of the fight from earlier. One wrong move could have led to you losing him all over again.

The sudden tension creeping up your body is easily clocked by Caleb, so he distracts you with wandering hands. He palms your breast, his thumb brushing lazily over your nipple to pull a low moan from your parted lips.

With each wanton sound you make, his cock strains even harder beneath the thin fabric of his underwear. You can’t tell if the dampness between you is from him, you, or both.

You rock your hips forward—just enough to test the friction. The heat beneath his boxers makes you gasp, and now there’s no mistaking it: that wetness you feel is mutual.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you ask, breath hitching when he ruts up against you just slightly.

His fingers flex around your body. “I said you can take what you want,” he nearly growls in restraint. “And I meant it.”

Another gasp tears from your throat as you grind more deliberately, chasing the right angle that makes your toes curl. The friction is rough, a little less forgiving than skin-on-skin, but Caleb doesn’t seem to care.

One of his hands continues to play with your nipples while the other rests on your waist. He’s not guiding you or controlling your movements. He’s staying true to his word and letting you do whatever you want to him.

“God,” you breathe, pressing your forehead to his as you move faster. “You feel so good, Caleb. I can feel you—so hot.”

“Yeah?” he rasps, sucking in a sharp breath when the cleft of your cunt nudges the head of his cock again. “Then keep going. That’s it,” he coos as you roll your hips a bit faster. “Rub that pretty pussy on me, baby.”

Your panties are ruined now, completely soaked through and sticking to you with every drag you make against his twitching erection. And even though he clenches his jaw and his muscles strain beneath you, he doesn’t even try to adjust himself. He just lets you hump him harder, your thighs beginning to tremble with the effort.

But this isn’t enough to push you over the edge. When you whine softly, he immediately knows what you need. He tugs your panties to the side, knuckles whitening as he grips it in a fist. Then he wastes no time bringing his other hand to your dripping entrance, sliding his fingers along your slit to gather the wetness there and glide up to your clit.

“Is this what you need?” Caleb murmurs, keeping his eyes on your face as he slowly circles the aching bud.

The direct stimulation makes you whimper and nod frantically, unable to use words to respond. And all the while, he stares at you with a strange mix of adoration and amusement.

He keeps watching, even as your eyes flutter shut and your head tilts back in a soundless cry of pleasure. No matter how many times he gets to do this with you, he will never stop drinking in all your little reactions with awe.

It’s like he still can’t believe he gets to slip two fingers inside your spasming cunt while his thumb replaces the quickening circles he was making around your clit.

With his fingers finally filling that deep, pulsing ache and pressing just right against your g-spot, you lose all sense of cautiousness. A more frenzied pace begins as you eagerly fuck yourself on his fingers and barrel toward your orgasm.

“This…s’unfair,” you slur through a needy whine as your head falls into the crook of his neck. “You’re cheating. Said you wouldn’t move.”

Caleb chuckles and curls his fingers by a fraction more, pressing even harder on that spot that makes you see stars. “But I’m not movin’, pip-squeak. You’re doing all the work for me.”

He winces a little when your fingers dig into the bruises blooming along his shoulders, but he doesn’t complain. His groan echoes in your ear before he presses a gentle kiss to your warm cheek. “You’re gonna come like this, aren’t you?”

You nod, desperate, panting into his neck. Your whole body tightens as the pleasure peaks—until you're clenching around him hard, hips stuttering as your pussy swallows his fingers and gushes against his palm.

Your voice cracks on his name, and distantly, you feel Caleb’s hips jerking at the same time something warm and wet coats his underwear. He moans with you, shaking as you slowly hump him a few more times while you come down from your high.

After a long moment, you slump forward, burying your face in his throat. Sweat and the smell of iron cling to his skin, but you still gingerly press a kiss to his neck while his fingers slide out and add to the slick mess where your lap meets his.

You glance down and bite your lip at the sight of his cum-stained boxers. It’s too tempting to reach down and tug the waistband below his half-hard cock, a cute little blush gracing his cheeks when you give in.

He looks so sweet and shy now—none of that smug confidence he had while his fingers were buried inside you.

You smear his cum around the tip of his cock, watching with satisfaction when it twitches and Caleb whines softly from oversensitivity.

“Did I hurt you at all?” You study his expression carefully for any hint of a lie.

He shakes his head, fingers gripping the sheets beside you when you start running the tip of your finger along his slit and around the head.

If he wasn’t in much pain before, he’s definitely feeling something now—his cock twitching in your palm, overstimulated and flushed. But you know he'd tap out if he needs to.

Chuckling softly, you ask, “Then should we go for another round?”

The teasing question is accompanied by you sliding off his body to rest your head on his lap, lips inching closer to his cock. When he only nods and whimpers from your breath fanning across his skin, you take it as a sign that he wants this.

“Alright,” you whisper before pressing a quick kiss to the tip. “But this time, you better behave…and stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he croaks, already trembling—just before your mouth wraps around him, promising a whole new kind of ache.

a/n: I was stuck on this fic for so long, and I'm still not sure if I like it lol...but I'm hoping I did an okay job!

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banner and dividers by me (please don't repost)

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mephisto-reporting · 8 months ago

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Princess Treatment - LADS HCs

Premise: You spoil him rotten, giving him the true princess treatment whenever he least expects it. Based on this request. Pairing: reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is pure fluff and I wrote these as headcanons on how the MC would spoil the lads men.

XAVIER

Tying His Shoelaces: Xavier, perpetually lost in thought or too sleepy to notice, never realizes his shoelaces have come undone. You’ve taken it upon yourself to stop him mid-step, kneeling down without hesitation to tie them up for him. "Y-you don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, his ears tinged red as other hunters in the UNICORNS squad snicker or raise eyebrows. Despite his protests, he secretly loves the care and attention you give him. Sometimes, he’ll glance down at his laces before heading out, secretly hoping you’ll stop him again.

The Crumb Crisis: You’ve come to notice that Xavier is always getting crumbs on his face—whether it’s from a snack he didn’t realize he’d left out or a meal he’s rushed through. You’ve made it a habit to carry a handkerchief with you, and whenever you see those crumbs stuck to his cheek, you gently take the cloth and wipe them off. He’s always caught off guard, sometimes even stammering, "I'm fine, really!" but the quiet appreciation in his eyes is unmistakable.

Homecooked Comfort: After grueling missions, Xavier is too drained to do much beyond collapsing on his couch. And given his well-documented kitchen disasters—he once managed to burn soup—you’ve made it a point to spoil him with hearty, homecooked meals. From comforting stews to his favorite snacks, you make sure he’s well-fed and taken care of. The first time you did it, his sleepy eyes widened in surprise. “You… made this for me?” “Of course. You deserve it.” He savors every bite, and though he’s not great with words, the way he quietly finishes everything on his plate is thanks enough.

Fuck the machines: Claw machines are Xavier’s mortal enemy. You’ve watched him struggle time and again, his focus no match for the slippery claws, even when he uses his Evol. So, you’ve taken over as his claw machine champion. "Which one do you want this time?” you ask, cracking your knuckles as he hesitates before shyly pointing to a particularly adorable plush. You win it with ease, handing it to him with a triumphant grin. “For you, Your Highness.” He laughs softly, his rare smile lighting up his face. “You’re too good at this.”

Bedhead Boy: Xavier’s perpetually messy bedhead is endearing, but sometimes it’s just too much for you to resist smoothing down. With a quiet hum, you gently comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it without a second thought. “Hey…” he starts to protest, but he always lets you finish, his ears pink as you pat his head affectionately.

ZAYNE

Door Dash: Zayne’s disdain for hospital canteen food is no secret, and you’ve made it your mission to ensure he eats something wholesome during his grueling shifts. You send him meals carefully packed in insulated containers, often including his favorite dishes. Occasionally, you’ll slip in a small dessert, knowing his secret sweet tooth. He doesn’t say much when he gets them, but you’ve caught a glimpse of the faint smirk he wears when he opens the package. “You know I can survive on vending machine snacks, right?” he’d quip over the phone later, but the fact he finishes every bite says otherwise.

Sticky notes: Zayne isn’t the type to expect grand gestures, so you leave small, thoughtful surprises instead. A note tucked into his hospital coat pocket with a cheeky, “Don’t overwork yourself. I still need my heart surgeon around.” Or a sticky note on his dashboard that reads, “Drive safe, handsome.” Once, he found one in his mail that simply said, “Stop glaring at everyone, I know you’re secretly nice.” He pretends to be unfazed, rolling his eyes or muttering something sarcastic like, “Am I being stalked?” but he keeps every single one in a drawer at home.

Spoil me, rotten: Zayne’s wardrobe is filled with impeccably tailored long coats, a staple of his polished appearance. You’ve taken to buying him accessories like elegant brooches, leather gloves, or even scarves that perfectly complement his collection. He always protests when you present them, narrowing his eyes and saying, “You do know I can buy these myself, right?” But the next time you see him, he’s wearing the latest item with an almost imperceptible look of pride. You tease him about it, and he deadpans, “It’s just practical. Don’t overthink it.”

Doctor's Day Out: Knowing how chaotic Zayne’s schedule as a top surgeon can be, you take charge of planning the weekends so he doesn’t have to lift a finger. Whether it’s booking a cozy dinner reservation, arranging a quiet getaway, or even planning an at-home movie night, you ensure everything is set. “All you need to do is show up and look stunning,” you joke, and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m halfway there already,” he retorts dryly, but the way he leans back and relaxes during those weekends tells you he’s more grateful than he lets on.

Massage therapist: Zayne’s hands are his lifeline, and after long, intricate surgeries, they’re often sore and strained. You’ve made it a habit to take his hands in yours and gently massage them, working out the tension in his fingers and wrists. He pretends to be indifferent at first but notices that your skills have improved. After all, you’d put in the effort to learn different techniques to aid him and his skilled hands. “I hope you’re not charging me for this.” He jokes. But as your thumbs press into the tight knots, his usual stoic demeanor falters. The sharp lines of stress around his eyes soften, and his shoulders, once hunched from exhaustion, slowly unwind.

RAFAYEL

After you: It’s no secret Rafayel enjoys being the center of your attention, and you’re more than happy to oblige. Wherever you are—be it a café, an art gallery, or even your own home—you always make it a point to open the door for him. Without fail, he pauses, waiting for you to complete the gesture. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but he loves seeing that soft, proud smile on your face when you hold the door just for him. Of course, he’d never outright admit it. Instead, he’ll quip something bratty, like, “Took you long enough, Cutie” but the faint curve of his lips tells you he secretly adores it.

Color Splash: Rafayel’s world revolves around his art, and you’ve made it your mission to fuel his creativity. Whether it’s hunting down rare pigments, finding unconventional materials to create new textures, or gifting him innovative tools, you never miss an opportunity to surprise him. When he first discovers your thoughtful additions to his collection, he’s practically radiant, eyes gleaming with inspiration as he eagerly experiments. Of course, he’ll nonchalantly mutter, “I could’ve found this myself, you know,” but his excitement is undeniable, and you know you’ve made his day.

Cheater, Cheater: You pride yourself on your competitive streak, but when it comes to Kitty Cards with Rafayel, you can’t help but let him bend the rules. He catches on every time, glancing at you with a knowing smirk as he casually switches out cards while you pretend not to notice. He knows exactly what you’re doing but plays along with a sly grin. Winning always means he gets to name his prize, and without fail, it’s more time with you. “Your competitive streak is slipping, cutie,” he teases, already pulling you closer. “Guess you’ll just have to pay for it with another evening by my side.”

Passenger Princess: Whether it’s the car or your motorbike, Rafayel is always the passenger princess with you. He’s perfectly content letting you take the wheel, whether it’s navigating through traffic or cruising down open roads. He’ll sit back, casually tossing a playful comment your way, his relaxed demeanor making it clear he has no interest in taking control. But even more than that, he loves the attention you give him. He’ll rest his hand on your shoulder or his head against the seat, basking in the comfort of being close to you. It’s his way of enjoying the ride—and you—without the fuss.

Creative Clean up: Rafayel’s studio is a whirlwind of creativity, but it’s also a constant mess. Brushes, paints, papers, clothes—everything’s scattered around like a storm wrecked his living space. Coffee cups would double as pen holders, and brushes would be left lying around like they were an afterthought. But no matter how chaotic it became, you never complained. You’d roll up your sleeves and clean up every single time you visited him. He’d give you a cheeky grin, the same one he wore whenever he was being a brat, and say, “You know you don’t have to do this, right? I like my space just the way it is.” But he never stopped you, and in the moments when he didn’t look, his eyes would soften, and a hint of appreciation would slip through his normally playful mask. He knew you cared for him in a way that no one else did.

SYLUS

Product Placement: Sylus was used to getting what he wanted, whether it was luxury items or rare finds. He had his preferences, and he wasn’t one to settle for less. But when you made it your mission to keep his favorite, expensive brands stocked in your home—whether it was gourmet food, skincare products, or niche equipment—it didn’t go unnoticed. The first time you did this, Sylus had been caught off guard. He’d teased you, of course. “I don’t need you to be my personal store, kitten. I’ve got everything I need.” But when he came over and found everything perfectly laid out just the way he liked it, the teasing turned into a more meaningful smile. He would let you spoil him just enough to acknowledge your effort, but never enough to let you feel like you were getting the upper hand. That was the Sylus way.

Rare Rhythms: Sylus’ love for rare records was well-known, and so was the fact that he had an extensive collection of limited-edition vinyl. But you didn’t mind diving into the world of obscure, indie artists just to get him something new for his collection. It wasn’t easy, though. It took long hours of scouring flea markets, searching online auction houses, and talking to music enthusiasts who knew more than a thing or two about underground talent. It was often a challenge, but for you, it was worth every second. Sylus didn’t say much, but you could tell by the way he listened to every single one of them, that he was genuinely impressed. "They’ve got potential," he'd said, before you knew it, that same artist was suspiciously rising in popularity, and you’d smile every time Sylus mentioned them. “You really know how to find a diamond in the rough, don’t you, sweetie?”

Spoiled Stubborn: Sylus was always the one taking the lead, always the one orchestrating the grand gestures. Spoiling him? Not so easy. He didn’t make it easy for anyone to do that. He would never outright refuse, but it was clear that when you tried, he preferred to return the favor rather than let you take charge. But you were stubborn—probably even more so than he was. You wanted him to be spoiled just as much. You wanted him to experience the kind of care he gave to everyone else, and you had just the way to do it: Planning dates where he couldn’t take over. Once it was picnic in the woods. You went all out—your best blankets, his favorite snacks, wine you knew he’d like—and most importantly, you took care of every detail so that he couldn’t take charge. The other time, it was a movie night at your place where everything was set: Popcorn, soda, the projector and candy. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he remarked softly, but there was affection behind his words. "I want spoil you... but you’ve managed to spoil me instead." You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading, knowing that in these small moment, you had made him feel cared for—something he usually avoided letting others do.

Sylus’ Salon: Sylus had always been a little gruff, his rugged demeanor giving off the impression of someone who was clinical and composed. But you knew him better than that. One of those moments was when you washed and dried his hair. He’d never asked for it, but you’d begun doing it without thinking. Maybe it was the way his silver hair shimmered under the water, or maybe it was the way he looked so disarmed when he let his guard down, letting you comb through his hair with graceful fingers. You’d always notice how his breath would deepen, how his eyes would close just a little longer than necessary. "I know you like doing this," he’d say, the faintest hint of a grin playing on his lips. "But you’re making it hard for me to act all tough with you fussing over me like this." You’d laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before continuing to dry his hair. It was an act of tenderness, a side of him that no one got to see.

Touch Starved: Sometimes, it wasn’t the grand gestures that mattered. It was the little touches. —a soft brush of your hand against his cheek or the fleeting warmth of your fingers tracing his jaw—he couldn’t help but pause. He’d find himself rewinding moments of you brushing his hair out of his face, or simply wrapping your arms around him when he least expected it. He’d tense, but only for a moment, before letting the warmth of your embrace dissolve his guarded exterior. “It seems like a certain kitten cannot keep her hands to herself.” Sylus would tease, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you snuck in another kiss, letting him know that you’d spoil him with your touches and kisses, even if he won’t admit it loudly.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

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lovelivision · 10 months ago

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꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

Getting double penetrated by Gojo and Geto, taking them both at the same time. Laying on top of Gojo, head pressed to his chest, unable to help the way you’re drooling onto his skin. Geto behind you, cock sat deep inside your snug cunt, alongside Gojo’s.

Pussy overstuffed and making an obscene mess, not able to move, trying to adjust to the stretch of having both of them inside you. Gojo stroking your back and cooing at you, “Too much for you, sweetie?”

Shaking your head quickly against him, panting out, “No– hah– I’m good.”

Geto lets out an amused huff and leans down to you, murmuring low in your ear, “You always take it so well don’t you?”

His voice sends shivers down your spine, biting your lip to supress the moan you almost let out at his movements and words.

Both of them groan at your reaction, Gojo breathlessly asking, “You feel that, Suguru?”

“Mhm,” Geto cruelly blows on your ear, “You like when I talk to you?”

Your hips jerk, fucking yourself on the both of them, “Please.”

Gojo laughs but it comes out wrecked, “Sounds like you’re avoiding the question.”

“Can’t have that can we?” Geto directs at Gojo.

To which he only smiles back big and evil, “No, we can’t.”

They both begin moving at once, apparently knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Your cunt making lewd slick sounds as they both thrust in and out of you. Feeling so full it’s driving you up a wall, nails digging into Gojo’s chest under you. Breaths coming fast as you struggle to think, incoherent whines being the only thing that leaves you.

Your pussy sucking them both back in, twitching and squirming between the two of them. Using your hips to fuck yourself back onto the both of them as much as you can manage.

Geto pulls himself up, hands gripping your ass cheeks to pull them apart, choking back a moan at the sight of it all. Ruined when he says, “So messy, creaming all over us.”

“Wish I could see– hnn– next time we’re swapping – hah – positions, Suguru.” Gojo rambles out, obviously feeling jealous at being deprived of the whole view, “How does it feel, hmm?” Gojo asks you, wanting you to tell him how good it feels.

Your response is moaned, “Feels so– oh! I feel full.” Tears brimmed on your lash line.

“I fuckin bet,” he chuckles out. “Look here, look at me, pretty,” Gojo’s directing your attention to him.

It takes everything in you to look at him, he whines when you do, the look on your face making his hips jerk and stutter, pace ruined for a moment. You’re all teary eyed and mouth agape, choking on moans that don’t stop, it drives Gojo wild.

“Ohh that’s cute,” A hand reaches up and he wipes the spit from the corner of your mouth.

Geto grunts at the pace change, “You good, Satoru?”

“Oh yeah, just admiring the view,” he smirks at you.

The hum Geto lets out is low and thoughtful, his hands pulling at your ass again, “As much as I love this view, I wanna see how you cry for it, pretty.” Geto’s tone is bright, enjoying the thought of you falling apart for them. His eyes flick to Gojo’s, “Think we might have to swap positions next time after all.”

Then they’re sharing a cheeky smile with each other before drilling into you again, quicker, doubling their efforts to make you insane. The whimpers they’re pulling out of you just won’t stop, and Gojo’s holding such intense eye contact it’s making you feel bashful. Leaning into him, you plant your lips on his in a messy kiss.

Your tongue in his mouth before he can think, a loud moan caught in his chest at how insistently you kiss him. From behind, Geto clicks his tongue, hand reaching for your neck to pull you back and off Gojo’s mouth.

“Can’t have Satoru keeping all your pretty moans to himself,” he squeezes your neck lightly as a warning.

“Mm sorry,” you murmur out.

Gojo bites his lip and smiles at you, “I’m not.”

Geto gives a particularly harsh thrust, one that makes you cry out a moan and your head spin all at once.

The both of them at once just might kill you…

#visdrabbles #geto x reader x gojo smut #gojo x reader x geto smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk x reader smut #suguru geto smut #geto smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader smut #geto x reader smut #suguru geto x reader smut

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lovcrss · 1 month ago

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crawling into joel’s lap after a long day.

cw: light smut, needy joel, nicknames (baby), teasing flirty banter

he’s sitting on his chair on the porch, legs spread and head relaxed on the headrest, finally relieving tension built up from the day. the feeling is almost perfect, only one thing’s missing.

that thing steps out of the house, moving easily in light, short but comfy sleeping clothes. you set yourself down on his lap and drape your legs over his, your ankles on the armrest, looking at him with a cheeky expression.

joel can’t help but let his lips curve upwards, hand immediately running over your leg to your hip, placing it there. “what have we here, hm?”

with a smirk, you kiss his cheek, his beard scraping your face slightly. “a tired grump in need of a drink,” you joke with your head on his chest.

“i got what i need right in front o’me,” he mumbles into your ear, nuzzling his face into your hair, the thick sharp beard itching the side of your face again.

cold night air grazes your exposed skin, causing you to shift in his lap to which he reacts by holding you tighter against him, his hand on your hip firmer and his other hand supporting your back and a grunt.

you hum with a smile on your face, playing with the buttons of his flannel. “really? what, your cigarettes?” the ones that laid on the table next to you in their box.

“‘course,” he huffs sarcastically, trying his best to sound serious. “the hell else would I be talking about?”

“alright,” rolling your eyes, you push his face away from your hair to the other side while he laughs, only to return with his lips attacking your neck. “what’s the matter, baby?”

your fingers attach to his gray hair while he explores up from your neck to your chest. he caresses gently the soft skin of your thighs with his rough fingers, sending shivers over your body.

his gentleness makes you melt, the way his fingers skim over your inner thighs have you gasping his name.

“you’re adorable when you squirm,” he rasps, making sure there isn’t an inch of skin left unkissed.

“stop embarrassing me,” you chuckle, moving while his big hands stay steady over your body.

joel looks up at you with his dog-like eyes. “you want me to stop?” he asks, the hand on your hip snaking upwards, slowly dragging the tips of his fingers over your sides until they reach the curve of you breast.

the way he touches you has your head spinning, needing to compose yourself. changing position, you stand up and place your legs on the sides of his so you’re straddling him. “no,” you say with a hint of a whine in your tone, placing your palms on his chest. “not done with you.”

the sight of you on top of him like this had his jeans tightening around his crotch. one hand slipped under your top again while the other cradled your jaw. “look at you,” he mumbles before connecting your lips in a hungry but slow kiss, almost unconsciously rocking his hips into yours.

the action causes you to let out a whimper into the kiss, only leading him to hold you even passionately. he pulls away to catch his breath. “baby, if you keep making those sounds…”

surprising him, you grind your hips against his already hard cock and let out a small sound again to provoke him, kissing him as a distraction. “what then?”

he shakes his head, “then we’re not sleepin’ tonight.”

suddenly, joel picks you up with your legs around his hips and you squeal, his big hard-on under his jeans digging into your core. he carries you inside with his face in your neck and keeps his word.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou2

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