#that is until he has to take a bath. or two...

[gloomwitchwrites]

Poppy~!! I saw that you're taking requests now and I wanted to know, if reader had to pretend to be the spouse of a 141 member for a brief undercover mission, how do you think that would go? 🤭 I'm thinking maybe someone has a love they think is unrequited until they discover it isn't, someone else was indifferent to the act but ended up enjoying the scenario too much, another one maybe was just waiting for a chance to pin you down and this is a prime opportunity, and maybe someone else was already involved in a secret relationship and now they're "married", so it works out perfectly? Idk idk, this is my first time requesting anything from you and I am just so excited to see where you would take this idea! Thank you so much for your time, love ya!! 💖

Anon, I know you asked for this forever ago, but I never forgot about it! I certainly went the naughty route with this one. I hope that's okay! These men are thirsty, and they're salivating over the opportunity to be flirty and forward. Enjoy!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x 141!fem!reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, brief alcohol use, flirting, vaginal fingering, piv penetration, sex club, fake relationships, mutual pining, dirty talk, voyeurism

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You clean up nice.”

“Not so bad yourself.”

Captain Price’s smile is sultry and glowing, his gaze hungrily devouring every inch of you. This is a mission. This man is your superior. And yet he’s always John to you. Your John. The man you love and secretly meet when others aren’t around.

Over his shoulder the setting sun bathes the ocean in a beautiful orange, almost as if the water is on fire. The two of you linger on a balcony overlooking the ocean, pretending that the two of you are married and in simple conversation. Within is a party. Live music. An open bar with flowing liquor. Waiters with hor d'oeuvres.

Malta is beautiful. It might be summer, but the air is surprisingly cool. The salty breeze sticks to your skin. John reaches out, brushes away a few salty flecks with the pad of his thumb. He brings it to his mouth, moaning softly.

“Be professional,” you scold with a teasing smile.

“I am,” he croons. “To them, you’re my wife.” He leans in, brushing his lips along your ear. “And my wife deserves attention.”

As his lips land on your throat, licking up the bit of wayward ocean salt, John’s hand delicately grasps your ass, squeezing.

“We have a job to do,” you murmur, grasping his arm, giving him more of your throat.

“We have the whole week. Target isn’t going anywhere. Not when he’s the honored guest.”

“Champagne?”

John draws back, shifting his stance to block your view of the waiter. “Thanks, mate,” grins John, snagging two flutes. He offers you one.

“This isn’t a vacation,” you chide, taking the flute. The bubbly liquid bursts and fizzes on your tongue.

“We’re in Malta. Staying in a castle. And I get to spend the week referring to you as my wife.” John takes your hand, his thumb brushing over the gold band on your finger. “Think I like this.”

“You think?”

John glances up, and your heart stops. “Would you like that? Wearing a band that marks you as mine?”

“John,” you breathe.

“Say yes,” he murmurs. “And we’ll go back to the room right now.”

“You’d risk the mission just to fuck me?”

“No question, love.”

John’s hand descends again, cupping your ass, squeezing roughly. “If you don’t want to go back to the room and fuck—”

“Oh, stop,” you giggle, smacking his chest.

“—then how about we have a dance.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

Your cheeks flame as you turn away from the faces in the room.

It’s not that any of them are really looking at you, or where Johnny’s hand is, or what he’s doing with his fingers. Nearly everyone else in the room is doing something lecherous—something dirty. Johnny is simply fitting in, pushing the agenda, making those around him believe that he’s fingering his wife and not his fucking teammate.

“You’re a fucking lucky man.”

You roll your eyes, and then stifle a moan as Soap pinches your clit between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh, aye,” croons Johnny, nipping your earlobe. “The luckiest.”

Burying your face in Soap’s neck, your breathing quickens, nails digging into his shoulder. A little moan escapes you, but it’s eclipsed by others who are much louder.

This wasn’t part of the mission. The mission was to attend this gathering, for Soap to be nothing more than a businessman seeking a lucrative deal, and you nothing more than his pretty arm candy. What wasn’t supposed to happen was a fucking orgy.

The target in question is sitting in a lounge chair next to Johnny, his mistress in his lap, legs spread open so the whole room can see her bouncing on his cock. They aren’t the only ones engaged in sexual activity. Most of the room is doing something, or they’re watching.

Noticing the shift, Johnny had dragged you into his lap, situating you so that he could easily finger-fuck you but no one would be receiving a show. For that, you’re thankful, but fuck, you weren’t expecting this, let alone enjoying it as much as you are.

With perfect precision, Soap rocks two fingers in and out of your pussy, his thumb rubbing your clit in tandem with his movements. The orgasm sprouts, blooms, explodes in color. You bite down on Soap’s shoulder to muffle the cry.

“She’s a lovely thing,” the target groans, and the blissful mood dissipates.

“Careful,” growls Soap. “That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

You’re fake wife, you mentally correct. But you smile, preening with the way Soap stakes a claim.

Johnny’s hand starts up again, and you shiver.

“You’re doing so well, lass,” he whispers against your ear. “So fucking tight.” Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and Soap groans.

With his other hand, Johnny tugs at the front of his pants, opening the fly. Reaching down, you slip your hand underneath, grasping his cock. Johnny’s eyelids flutter, and when he looks at you, you understand the silent communication. Like everyone else in this room, the two of you will be expected to fuck.

Better him than a stranger.

Johnny helps, bringing you into his lap as your stroke him to hardness. This will never leave this room. You will never mention this to the rest of the team. As you sink down on him, Soap adjusts your dress, covering what’s happening beneath. You grasp the back of his neck, using it as leverage to come down on him as he pumps up into you.

You press your forehead against his, exchanging breaths.

“Making a proper wife of you,” he teases.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” you smile.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“We look good together.”

Kyle’s comment catches you off-guard. “What?” you laugh, pressing your hand to your fluttering stomach.

He saunters up beside you, lowering his head in an intimate familiarity. “Captain made the right call. Putting us together.”

You giggle, lightly pushing him with a carefully placed hand to the middle of his chest. “It’s pretend, Kyle. We’re bugging the place and then we’re leaving.”

“We can have a bit of fun,” he smiles, tapping the tip of your nose. “We’re married.”

His teasing and playful smile is warming something low in your belly. You’ve always had a soft spot for Garrick, but you’ve never pushed it any further than some light teasing.

“Fake married, sergeant.”

Kyle drapes his arm around your back and over your hip, pulling you in close. “Need to act like we love each other.” Slowly, and with such affection your heart skips a beat, Kyle presses his lips to your throat.

You twist out of his grasp, flustered and overwhelmed by the attention. But Kyle is all smiles, reaching for you again as the two of you walk up to the house. An “Open House” sign with an array of balloons is out front. Several groups of couples and realtors in suits linger out front chatting about the lawn. The house itself is large, bordering on mansion.

But you and Kyle aren’t there to house shop.

This home is owned by a wealthy businessman. He used to make his money on real estate, but now he’s shifted into drugs and weaponry. More lucrative. Under the table. This home is just one of many targets. The goal is to bug it.

There might be a “for sale” sign out front, but it’s for show. The property already has a buyer. This is just to make it look legit.

“Welcome. I’m Heather.”

Heather, the realtor, extends her hand. Kyle accepts it, keeping his other hand attached to your lower back.

“It’s a beautiful home,” replies Kyle. “Eager for a look.”

Heather beams. “It really is stunning, isn’t it?”

“How big are the bedrooms?” asks Kyle. “Plan on growing our family. Space is important.”

“You’ll love the master. Lots of room,” replies Heather, gesturing toward the open front door. “The rest of the bedrooms have a good range in size to be used as bedrooms for children. Office space. A nursery.”

“Hear that, love,” smiles Kyle. “Lots of options.”

“Sounds like we need to take a look,” you say with an easy smile, leaning into Kyle’s arm.

“Grab a refreshment and explore. Let me know if you have any questions.”

“Thank you,” nods Kyle, urging you further into the house.

When the two of you are out of earshot, you pinch his arm. “You’re having far too much fun.”

Kyle chuckles. “Don’t like the idea of me knocking you up?”

“Kyle,” you hiss, smacking his arm.

“They’d be cute little buggers.”

You smack him again.

“Could start now.”

You playfully dart away. “We have a house to bug,” you hiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“He likes a show.”

“I know,” you murmur, pressing closer to Simon’s chest.

He’s being a gentleman about the whole fucking thing, and for that, you’re thankful, but neither of you expected this when you agreed.

“Won’t come otherwise. Need him alone.”

You sigh, tapping your forehead against Simon’s bare chest repeatedly. “Why did he have to be a voyeur.” Simon’s rumbling chuckle is soothing.

He runs his hands up and down your back. “Promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Gentleness isn’t what I’m worried about,” you murmur. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Simon’s arms tighten around you, his tone dropping to a teasing tone. “Think I won’t make you come?”

You bark a laugh, and then stifle it by smothering your face into his chest. “You’re not funny.”

“It’s only for a bit.” Simon grasps the back of your neck, drawing you back so he can gaze into your eyes. “All they know is that we’re married and we like it when people watch. Which is why the target is interested. We need him to watch us. To get comfortable. Let his guard down. The team will swoop in and take care of the rest.”

You inhale deeply. “I’m ready.”

“Are you?”

You nod, and Simon draws your mouth to his. It’s tender. Soft. A ghost of a touch. You open for him, and Simon dives in, tongue meeting tongue. You grow dizzy. Light-headed. When he breaks the kiss, you almost stumble.

Simon smirks. “You can pretend that you like me.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

You grasp his hand, pushing back the black curtain, revealing the dimly lit room. The edges of the room are all in shadow, but in the center, where the lone light illuminates, is an elevated platform. It’s covered in plush black velvet and pillows. An altar. You lead Simon to it, swaying your hips in a slow dance.

Just as you turn toward Simon, you glimpse the target seated in the corner. Most of his face is obscured, but you recognize the shape. If Simon notices him, he doesn’t show it. His attention is fully on you, his dark eyes burning behind the half-skull mask. You have a matching one, also in black to pair with the lace bralette and panties.

Simon’s hands are everywhere, grasping, touching. His lips find yours, and you sink into him, trying to focus only on him. That is the point after all, to pretend that he’s your husband, that you’re here for him to fuck you in front of others.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The intensity in which Simon puts you on your back, strokes your legs, and opens you wide is more than a job. He is worshiping you, lips traversing over every inch, hands touching everything. You groan and gasp, arching into his embrace, crying out when his tongue finds your sensitive clit.

You don’t care that there are others in the room. That you’re being watched. It’s nice, actually, to be desired in both ways.

“Taste so good,” groans Simon, running his tongue over your pussy.

You’re lost in him, and when Simon ascends to slot is cock at your entrance, your legs fall wider. Hooking his arms around your legs, Simon thrusts relentlessly, each connection pushing bright bursts of air from your lungs.

The pleasure of him inside you is so profound, that you don’t realize the room is being stormed by men in tactical gear until Simon throws himself atop you, shielding your body from view. He acts protective, and in moments the room clears, and the target is dragged away. You cling to him, unmoving, both of you breathing heavy.

“We should go, shouldn’t we?” you ask after a few lengthy seconds. Simon remains where he is, unmoving. His cock is still inside you. “Simon?”

His lips find yours again, and then he’s thrusting, lifting you against him. “Need to finish pleasing my wife.”

“Simon. I’m not your wife,” you whimper as he grinds his hips against you.

“Oh, love. You could be.”

[dxmurewrites]

Light in the Dark

Part One of a two shot I'm making for Paddy! No actual smut in this one, I wanted to write something that could be read as a standalone + with a part two containing the smut.

pairing: Paddy Mayne x Fem!Nurse!Reader

summary: Seeing you in his clothes made Paddy feel absolutely feral, and he hated himself for it.

word count: 3010 words.

unedited: it's 2am again ... I cannot be bothered.

warnings: language, mentions of war, blood, wounds, medical language, reader has hair (my bad, we washing our hair in this), sexual tension, impure thoughts, mutual bullying, mutual attraction despite denying it, borderline possessive behaviour, nsfw themes but no actual smut!

let me know what you think! I love feedback! Unless it's mean, then that's stink energy... like, comment, reblog, mwah.

———————

“You smell like shite."

"Hello to you too Paddy," You chuckle, writing in your journal. You hadn't looked up to the Lieutenant as he entered your tent, keeping your head down as you continued writing in your stock inventory. "Are you well?"

"M'fine," He answers quickly, looking you over. His gaze lingered over your uniform, the small drip of sweat that dripped down your neck and beneath the fabric. Paddy clears his throat. "Here to take you to the showers."

Oh.

You hadn't even realised the time.

6pm on the dot.

Bathing was a luxury here, but being the only woman meant you couldn't shower at the same time as everyone else. Begrudgingly, Paddy has been tasked with supervising you as you bathed, albeit with his back turned.

He trusted his men, as did you, but it was apart of the terms to having you on site. You showered when the sun was coming down, and Paddy made sure there weren't any peeping toms trying their luck.

"Right, of course," Nodding, you quickly stand, packing your journal back into its place on your makeshift desk. He watches intently as you run around the infirmary, picking up pieces of clothing you had strung up to dry. "Let's go then." "Oh you're ready are ya?" Paddy quips, checking his pocket watch with a dramatic sigh. "No s'fine, I'll wait around for you to paint your nails next." Snorting, you barge past him, being sure to bump into his shoulder with your own with your clothes in hand. He grunts at the action, turning around to follow after you. "Keep being a bastard and I'll paint your nails next."

You didn't even have any nail polish, he knew that - but Paddy was sure to ridicule you every chance he got.

No one could explain what was going on between the two of you. Everyone knew there was something there, but Paddy was stubborn to all hell, and you, well, you just enjoyed keeping him on his toes.

His lips turned upward at your remark, but the lieutenant chooses not to reply, keeping a small distance between the two of you as he escorts you to the temporary bathrooms.

Within minutes you were stripped to nothing, hair out of it's tied back state and soaked by the cold water pouring from the shower head. The 'walls' were ripped blankets, the floor an old welcome mat from some long forgotten home.

Paddy stood with his back turned just a few metres away, his hands crossed over his chest as his eyes scanned around. No one would be dumb enough to even try anything, but he still took his little role seriously. His mens safety was his priority, and that included you.

"Paddy," he hears you call, the water now switched off. "Could you pass me my towel please?"

He nods once in response, grabbing your bundle of clothes and your towel from beside him. Walking backwards, he keeps his eyes on the sand below him, walking until the sand turns into concrete, and he holds his arm out, waiting for you to grab your belongings.

Your small hand reaches out, soft fingers brushing against his calloused ones as you mumble a small thank you.

Paddy waits a little longer, hearing the rustling of clothes and the familiar sound of the shower 'door' being opened. He turns his head slightly, seeing you dressed in your night clothes, hand running through your wet hair with your towel as you give him a mock salute.

"All good here lieutenant," you say his title like a mockery amongst friends, but he didn't care. "As usual, my sincerest gratitude."

It was his turn to snort. "One of these days I won't have to babysit so you can wash your arse." He shakes his head, watching as you grin at his words.

"Can't argue there," You shrug, continuing to dry your hair and running your fingers to pull out any tangles. "But until then, my washed arse thanks you."

The Irishman just eyes you with humour in his eyes, and you nudge him with your elbow before excusing yourself, making your way back to your tent. His eyes follow your every step, and he clears his throat, nodding to himself before he returns to his own quarters.

It was only a couple hours later when it felt like hell had taken over. A mission had gone successful, but one of the Sergeants, Pat, had been quite injured. It was manageable for you, but it had been a hands on moment and a few of the others had to assist.

Pat lay in the infirmary, bandaged head to toe and completely out of it. You sat beside him, catching your breath as your arms rested on your thighs. Blood soaked your hands and arms, your pyjamas stained - there hadn't even been time to change when the boys brought him in.

They had yelled for you the moment they returned, carrying the unconscious and wounded man in like he was a limp doll. It had been tedious, even worrying at one point, but he was alive and would make a full recovery.

It didn't stop the shakes in your hands however, or the blood that dripped from your fingers to the ground below. You wiped at your face, mixing with the sweat that gathered across your forehead.

He's alive.

That's all that mattered.

"You alright?"

His voice startled you, your hunched over frame jolting at the sudden intrusion. Paddy holds his arms up, a small apology leaving his mouth at your jump.

You nodded, wiping your cheek again, eyes squinting as you yawn. "Should be asking if Pat's alright," you say through your yawn, pointing towards the sleeping soldier next to you. "Which he is, time will decide the rest."

Paddy nods slowly, his lips tightening in a small frown as he thinks over your words. "Course he'll be good, he's got you looking' after him."

Your eyebrow raises at the compliment. It wasn't like the Irishman to say sweet things, maybe a jest mixed with a small praise, but never just flattery. A part of you wanted to comment on it, make fun of him and meet him at his usual level, but you decided against it.

"Thank you Paddy," you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear as you stood up, stretching out your legs. "Are you alright? No lumps or bumps you're not telling me about?"

His frown melted away as he shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Ye still trying to get me naked nurse?" there he is. "Ye little deviant."

"S'it working?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he steps towards you. The air felt different in the tent, dry, sure, the desert providing barely any relief, but you always felt heated when the lieutenant was near. Paddy's eyes roam over your frame, his eyebrows furrowing as he takes in the state of you.

"You need another wash," He remarks, nodding towards your blood stained skin and pyjamas. "I'll get Stirling to watch over Pat 'ere, want me to grab anything' for ye?"

It was your turn to frown, looking around the room. The only spare clothes you had were still drying on various pieces of furniture, and you groaned. "I don't have any night clothes left," you admitted, feeling almost childish for even complaining about it. "This was my last clean pair."

Paddy shrugs, thinking it a non issue. "Just head on out and leave it with me," as if sensing your reply, he gives you a stern look. "Just do it girl."

Holding your arms up in defeat, you follow his order, leaving the tent and into the night. Various soldiers stood around the site, all nodding at you in thanks, some saying your name in appreciation.

Their nods were met with a small smile, feeling a little ridiculous in your pyjamas and blood covered state.

It wasn't anything they weren't used to.

As far as they were concerned, you were a light in the dark that kept everyone safe. Just like Paddy. They were adamant the two of you were so similar in your own little, weird way.

You sat on a rock, staring off into the vast desert as you waited. It wasn't long until Paddy, true to his word, met you at the showers. He held some clothes in his hand, even a hairbrush.

The area was dimly lit by some lanterns, but it was just enough to see what was in front of you.

"Stirlin' thought you'd want to fix the mop on your head," He titled his chin into the direction of your head, and you rolled your eyes. "But 'ere, try these."

He hands the clothing over, and you didn't even have to ask, already knowing who they belonged too. "You okay parting with these?"

Paddy's eyes narrowed at your words. "How'd you know these are mine?" he exhales in amusement. "What if I pinched them from Reg?"

"Reg doesn't have clothes this clean," you retort, holding the clothes away from your body in an attempt to keep them clean. "Besides, they got a Paddy smell to them." "A Paddy smell," He repeats your words, rolling his eyes. "What, shite and sweat?"

"You don't smell like shit," Laughter leaves your lungs instantly, handing the clothes back to him as you begin to walk towards the shower. Paddy takes his position, back turned to the world as you begin to undress. "You smell okay, all things considered."

He hums at your response, taking it as a win. It was a luxury even having somewhere to bathe, so no one was expected to smell like flowers and oils.

With the blood washed from your body and coating the floor, you dried off before pulling on Paddy’s shirt, buttoning up the best you could.

By the time you were finished, you stood beside him once more, now time sporting one of his army fatigues. It covered everything that was needed, leaving your legs bare from the thighs down.

Was it appropriate?

Not really, but given the situation, no one was going to question it.

Paddy turns to look at you completely, his jaw tightening as he takes everything in. He inhales, quietly enough that he hoped you didn't notice.

You did.

He was anything but inconspicuous.

God, you were a vision. Even in the low light from the lanterns, you managed to steal his words and make the mouthy man feel mute. He thought you were breathtaking even when wearing the most mundane uniform, but seeing you in his clothes made him feel like the world around him was spinning.

Maybe he was concussed.

Clearing his throat, Paddy looks away, feeling almost guilty for his thoughts. You had just saved one of his men, lost another set of clothes to blood and had to shower in the cold of the night.

The sound of you brushing your hair filled his ears, and he cleared his throat again, trying to think of anything else. "Should uh - should get ye' out of the cold."

"It's actually quite nice," you admitted, finishing with your hair and tucking the hairbrush into one of Paddy's pockets, ignoring the way he eyed your movements like a hawk. "Bit overexposed though."

"Aye," he agrees, finally looking over your bare legs and swallowing. "One breeze and you're giving the boys a show."

You laugh loudly at his words, but he wasn't wrong, so you nodded, nudging him with your elbow. "Not wearing anything under this either, I think I'd make their whole year."

He closes his eyes at the revelation. It was meant as a joke, but knowing you were in fact bare beneath his clothes made his pants feel a little tighter, and he felt the heat in his stomach begin to bloom.

Your giggles sound like a siren's call, the sound becoming softer as you had already started your walk back to your tent, eager to send Stirling away and keep an eye on Pat.

By the time you made your way back into your tent, the once empty infirmary was now full of soldiers. It stopped you in your tracks, seeing familiar faces all laying on the beds, even Stirling asleep in yours.

"Am I missing something? Sleepover at mine?" You call out, bringing everyone's attention to the entrance of your makeshift home. "Didn't realise it was girls night."

A few laugh, someone even going as far to wolf whistle at you, noticing your new attire. "We thought we'd all stay in here for when Pat wakes up Miss." Jim, one of the sweeter giants in the bunch answers.

"Right," your voice trails off, eventually feeling Paddy's presence behind you. "And where am I meant to sleep?"

"Not in here," Paddy responds from behind, side stepping you and eyeing the scene in front of him with a raised eyebrow. "Look at you lot, kickin' our own nurse out of her bed."

"Blame Stirling," someone calls out, bringing attention to the lieutenant in your bed. "We'll keep an eye on everything anyway, you can sleep in my bed Miss."

"Or mine!" Someone else shouts, and a few more offer their beds with an eagerness that made you laugh loudly.

"Enough of that," Paddy stands with his hands on his hips. "She's not staying' anywhere near you lot."

"I'll sleep in David's bed then," You shrug before nodding towards Pat, who still remained asleep. "Just keep an eye on his bandages, any fresh bleeding and you all come wake me up yeah?"

They murmur in agreements, some giving you a thumbs up before you give Paddy a nod, making your leave once again.

The infirmaries tent flaps close behind you, and you're about to make your way to Stirling's tent when a hand on your waist guides you elsewhere. His footsteps step in line with yours, and you can't help but roll your eyes playfully at the action.

It was obvious who it was. Only one person here would be confident enough to touch you this way. That, and you were being directed to another familiar tent, one that resided further away from everyone else's.

"Not joining the sleepover Paddy?" you mutter softly, smiling from ear to ear as he grunts in response.

"You're not sleepin' anywhere I can't keep an eye on you," He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. The Irishman leads you to his tent, holding the entrance open and escorting you inside. He nods towards his trundle, made and ready for a body. "I'm goin' for a wash, I won't be long."

"You don't want me to escort you?" It was a jest, and Paddy pushed you forwards towards his bed in response. "Don't want me to pretend I'm keeping my back turned and not taking little sneak peaks?"

"Watch it." He points his finger at you, saying your name in warning, but he doesn't deny it. He goes to say something else, his lips opening and closing a few times before he decides against it, instead just leaving in a rush.

It made you grin, and you did what he asked, climbing into his bed eagerly. His familiar scent coated the sheets, providing a comfort you weren't expecting.

Safety was a long forgotten feeling here, but with Paddy around, his very being provided a sanctuary you weren't expecting to find in the middle of nowhere.

It wasn't long before he returned, apart of him hoping you'd be asleep when he arrived seeing as he hadn't brought any clothes with him. The two of you eyed each other, a silent stare down as he swallowed, standing in the entrance with a tattered towel around his waist, droplets of water still sliding down his bare chest.

"Shit," Immediately closing your eyes, you hold your hands up and over them in an extra effort to shield yourself from the lieutenant. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You hear him mutter, followed by some rustling around. He pulled on a loose pair of trousers, a white vest following suit. Standing beside the bed as he pulled his pants up, he can't help once again the way his eyes follow your feet up to your soft thighs.

You had laid over the blanket, wanting to wait for Paddy's return to discuss the actual sleeping arrangements.

Paddy's breathing comes out laboured, noticing the shirt you had borrowed from him had shifted further up as your arms moved when shielding your eyes. He looks to the ceiling, trying to gather his thoughts, sending silent threats to himself at the impure images he started conjuring up.

"Paddy?" Your soft voice brings his attention back to Earth, and he clears his throat, mumbling a 'hm?' in reply.

Your eyes were open now, your hands bunching at the blanket below. Your cheeks felt hot, your lower stomach feeling no different as you stared up at the man before you.

He eyes you curiously, and you shamelessly looked down below his waist, attempting to bring his attention to the erection he had started to grow.

It was his turn to blush, and he immediately stuttered your name and an apology, turning around to conceal himself. Paddy nearly chokes when he feels your soft hands on his waist, your delicate fingers urging him to turn back around.

"I'm not uh, I'm," Paddy tries to apologise, noticing you shake your head. "Fuck."

"Paddy," You speak again, slowly this time, as if the very weight of his name on your tongue became a soft hymn. "Don't hide from me."

"M'not hiding," he attempted to argue, the words falling short as another sigh left his lips as you dragged your nails across his hips. He says your name again this time, half in warning, half in protest. "You're just playin' a very dangerous game here."

"So play with me then." Your voice sounded like warm honey, sweet despite the sinful desire that laced your words.

"Christ."

[reiinaissance]

GOOD GIRL ft. miguel o'hara (spider-man: across the spider-verse) x female! reader

⟢ content warnings sub! reader, praising, spanking, size kink, choking, creampie, aftercare. minors do not interact.

reupload from my old account ☻

"ahh—!"

you squirmed in miguel’s lap, your ass up in the air as he rubbed your dripping cunt using his fingers.

"shhh, princesa. two more spanks."

tears were pricking in the corner of your eyes, your ass is probably so red right now. he had spanked you eight times already, and you wanted nothing more than to have his cock inside you. "ay, cariño, i know you can take it."

you bit your bottom lip before his palm hits your ass, a gasp coming out of your mouth for the umpteenth time. "ha— fuck!"

"one more, baby. one more." he murmured, smoothing the ass cheek he had hit. you gripped onto the covers as you shut your eyes in preparation for the final spank. it was going to be a big one, for sure.

he lands a hard slap on your ass, causing you to moan loudly. "that's a good girl," miguel pushed you up and laid you gently onto the bed. he stroked his own cock at the sight in front of him— your legs wide for him, your drenched pussy aching for his dick. "you're so fucking good for me, hm? now let me reward you."

you gasp softly as the tip of his cock teases your wet entrance, causing him to hiss at the contact. you held onto his shoulders, mumbling, "please fuck me, miguel... please, please, please..."

"mm... gonna fuck you so good, mi amor..."

and he did fuck you so good.

"so fucking tight." he grunted as he slowly entered you. you couldn't help the moans that were escaping from your mouth.

he placed sloppy kisses on your collarbone down to your chest, kneading your left breast with his hand and taking the other in his mouth, sucking on your nipple. you arch your back in pleasure. "your cock's s-so big...!"

you suddenly felt a familiar knot on your stomach, nearing your climax. miguel noticed it at the way your legs started to shake, and how your lustful cries were uncontrollable. "you gonna come, hm?"

"y-yes! please, can i please come?"

"you think you deserve it, cariño?"

you were desperate, nodding vigorously as you babbled, "yes, yes, yes, please, miguel! please let me come!"

the tip of his cock hits your cervix so perfectly as he smiled at your response. "go ahead, come for me."

that was the only sentence you needed before you came, gasping as you shuddered. he thrusts through your orgasm, your pussy clamping down on him. he was also reaching his limit.

"gonna come— fuck—" miguel grunted, thrusting harder until he came inside you with a low groan. you both panted heavily, and as he slowly pulled out, your pussy overflowed with your mixed liquids.

you closed your eyes in exhaustion. "baby..."

"princesa," you feel him kissing your forehead, "you alright?"

"mhm..."

"gonna run you a bath, i'll be right back."

after a few minutes, he picked you up from the bed (he had to change the sheets too) and placed you in the tub. you looked up at him and pulled his arm. "miguel... join me."

he smiled softly, bed sheets can wait.

reiinaissance © 2025 | all rights reserved. do not claim as your own, modify, copy or repost.

[womanofwords]

Darling Demon (Part 19)

Yandere!batfam x betrothed!neglected!male!reader x yandere!demon!spouse

TW: public humiliation, consensual non-consent.

Azrir had won. They'd taken your virginity at long last, and it felt like fireworks were exploding in your head the whole time. Yeah, being married to them for eternity would be pretty damn good. Most demons would then parade their human around while tormenting them in whatever ways they wanted for the rest of eternity, but Azrir couldn't afford to do such a thing. A prize like you had to be kept safe, after all.

And definitely bragged about.

"Little prize, I have an offer for you," Azrir said. "I've been meaning to show you off, but I had to wait until your virginity was taken so the other demons could smell the sex on you."

"You guys can smell that?" you whimpered.

"Yes, darling. In order to show you off, I'll need to doll you up, and that means bathing you."

Gently, Azrir took you to a bathtub and drew water for you. "I am only going to use unscented soap on you so the scent of sex can still be detected," they explained, as sweat was scrubbed off you. Their hands were thorough, but not sexual, which felt like a relief. Thick, clawed hands rubbed shampoo into your hair. "You will be clean for this demonstration," Azrir said.

"Azrir, who are you going to show me off to?"

"Some of the lower demons. Winning a human spouse is a high honour for us. I want to show them what they will never have."

Humans were a status symbol? Well, that got you thinking. "Azrir, if human spouses are a status symbol, does that make me a trophy husband?" you asked.

Azrir paused, their hands temporarily freezing while soap suds latched onto their claws. "Technically, yes," they admitted.

"Well, Azrir, if I'm really going to be paraded around as your little trophy, then I should get some sort of reward. After all, I have to be actually tempting for this to work."

Azrir forced themselves not to laugh. Here you were, negotiating your way through their own display while being bathed like a show dog. "Very well, Y/N. What are your demands?"

"First, I want to be able to shapeshift on command, too. My family has a tendency of looking for me, and I don't want to be recognisable. Second, curse Damian into compulsively sucking his thumb explicitly while he is trying to be intimidating or cause pain."

"Consider both of those things done, little prize," Azrir said.

"Also, when we get back, I'm going to drink a cup of sex potion, tie you to the headboard, and top you like it's my only reason for existing."

Azrir's mouth curled into a large smirk. "Deal, little human. Now, put on this outfit and let's go taunt some grunts."

*_*_*_*_*_

The outfit Azrir picked out for you was merely a shirt that went halfway down your thighs with the words "AZRIR'S PRIZE" written on the front. "I don't have to remember lines, do I?" you asked.

"No, Y/N," Azrir said. "I must warn you, little toy, that my hands are often going to . . . have a little fun with you, but nothing too far. Just enough to torment those peons."

"I can live with that," you said, as Azrir hoisted you over their shoulder and began to take you to the ring of lust.

You were ogled a lot. You grew up not drawing much attention while with humans, but here, you were drooled over. You really were a prize.

"Give us a piece," a demon growled, reaching towards you. Azrir grabbed their hand between theirs and squeezed it, hard.

"Touch this human, and I shall eat you," they hissed. Demons fled. Azrir took you off their shoulder and cooed at you. "You poor thing, that must have been a nasty thing to see. There, there, I'm here."

You arrived in the ring of lust and met two demons that were significantly smaller than Azrir. "Azrir, what brings you to us?" one of them asked.

"Bringing you motivation," Azrir said, showing you off with pride. "I used to be a lowly and weak demon such as yourselves, but then I toughened myself up and fought for a human spouse. This is what you can have if you work hard. A little human to do . . . this to."

Azrir's hands went up your shirt, and you stifled a yelp. "This is a bit much!" you whimpered.

"I know," Azrir taunted, grinning as the hand over your crotch got more adventurous and audacious. "Want it to stop?"

You felt dizzy, head spinning. "No, Azrir. Please keep going."

"That's what I like to hear."

"So you brought your human spouse here to . . . taunt us?" the first one asked, notes of disbelief in their voice.

"No, of course not!" Azrir lied. "This is what you could have if you applied yourself."

"If that's the case, why are you blatantly pleasuring it in front of us?"

"Because I can and he's mine. And if you just put in the effort to be stronger, you could have one."

You were going crazy. If Azrir kept going, you would legit go insane. You weren't sure whether to be relieved or annoyed when they stopped and put you back over their shoulder.

"I'll see you around, peasants," they laughed, taking you back home to your bed while groping your behind.

Once you were alone together, you were glad to remove that damn shirt. "Honey, you did so well," Azrir said, smothering you in kisses. "And now, your rewards." Azrir snapped their fingers, and changes occurred.

Your body tingled, but only temporarily and it was over so quickly. That had to be the manifestation of your powers. You only really needed to change one thing, really.

"My love, you have shapeshifted your loins," Azrir said, looking down at your dick with alarm.

"All the better for pleasuring you with," you said, as you got yourself the lube and a cup of aphrodisiac.

Your mother screamed with pain as the scoreboard went up again. "WHY ISN'T THAT DEMON GETTING OFF OF MY SON?" she screamed.

"They can't. Your son is on top of the demon, and having a lot of fun with it," one of the demons said.

Limbs were sawed off again, and your mother screamed. "MAKE IT STOP!"

"We can't. It's honestly entertaining," another demon said. "Azrir knows what they're doing."

The numbers on the scoreboard spun again, and your mother's blood spurted in celebration.

Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @c4xcocoa, @darkmoka, @fightmebissh, @bloobewy, @chi1lllb, @cqerrz, @heart-cream, @noone1233nobody, @type-ink, @sonyboos, @atlasbatman05, @eyeless-kun, @zomqiez.

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[paramortality]

Ship Sleep Dynamics

Tagged by the GORGEOUS and wonderful @redheadsramblings !! Thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about Laird as always luv. And honestly what a BEAUTIFUL excuse to repost this stunning and fitting artwork by @svanha !! (Look at how Laird looks at Emm guys, that is the LOVE of his LIFE.)

Laird × Emmrich

How often do they sleep together?

At first, they didn't. Laird was very new to relationships with the mindset of a skittish cat. But fighting two dragons, Weisshaupt, and Elgar'Nan getting into his head at Arlathan, he finally caved for one night. He'd never slept so well in his life. But then he tried to be tough about it and didn't want to "push his luck" (like he even could) and they didn't share a bed again until after he escaped the Fade Prison. Both have refused to sleep separately since. If Emmrich is in the infirmary, Laird will deadass sleep on the floor beside him until he's better (despite many protests).

Where do they sleep?

Emmrich laid on that green sofa once and said, out loud mind you, "oh certainly NOT." They've slept in Emmrich's room ever since. Emmrich had contented himself with a book nook on the upper floor of the lighthouse laboratory, and it seemed to mysteriously shift to a more accommodating size once Laird slept in it with him once or twice. Back home, they share a much more plush and sizeable bed in Emmrich's flat.

How do they prepare to sleep?

Both of them have bedtime routines that could make Narcissus do a double take. They usually share a bath unless Laird needs a moment to himself, then they reconvene after. The shared baths often come with the package deal of shoulder and foot rubs, snuggles, and cheesy silliness amongst each other in giggly whispers and bubble sculpting. And ofc comfortable silences.

Naturally, Emmrich has his collection of salves and lotions. Laird has a vast menagerie of beard oils, tattoo lotions, and salves that might one day fully heal away his top surgery scars and stretch marks (or so he hopes, despite Emmrich's constant reassurance and worship of them exactly as they are).

What do they wear to sleep?

We all know Emmrich has his gowns, though he does occasionally enjoy some silkier jewel tone pyjamas. Since Laird started sharing his bed, however, he's opted to omit wearing anything altogether some nights. It's one part sexy reasons, three parts "Laird is warm as a fucking rage demon in a human costume."

Laird hasn't acknowledged the concept of sleeping with a shirt on since getting top surgery. He also enjoys lounging in silky tops or something more of a hemp or linen feel, but when he falls into bed it doesn't come with him. Below the waist is another story, however. That's not an area he's typically having exposed. Unless Emmrich has charmed him out of them in an evening of passsion, Laird can usually be found vibing in a pair of black, sage green, or cranberry coloured harem pants. Though the warmer flannel jammy pants may make an appearance in the cooler months.

Do they cuddle?

Cuddling was a learning process for Laird. Largely because he was afraid he'd crush Emmrich like a baby bird. For the longest time, his weight insecurity would only allow him to be the little spoon, back to chest, side only. He'd panic any time he'd rolled onto Emmrich's arm or even slightly atop him or thrown a leg over him. It took forever for Emmrich to coax him into trusting he's not as fragile– nor that Laird is as heavy– as he fears.

It only took hearing Emmrich's heartbeat once for Laird to discover his favourite place on earth.

Now Laird will nest himself over Emmrich's thigh and zonk right out, head on his chest or back. On nights when Emmrich's the one in need of comfort, Laird is nothing short of the finest body pillow in all of Thedas. And nothing feels safer than the arms of a strong, husky man around him and forehead kisses that promise nothing can pry them apart and no darkness can intrude past his hold.

What are their preferred sleep positions?

Emmrich is quite often a back or side sleeper. He used to have a second pillow he insists wasn't for holding and was merely for shoulder comfort. But that pillow has conveniently been out of service since an actual cuddle bear has lumbered into his sheets.

Laird is a solid stomach sleeper. He'll turn on his side if he must, and he can fairly easily fall asleep on his back if Emmrich is atop him, but he almost always sleeps in that "rotisserie chicken" pose one might find corgis flopped in. (Google it trust me my childhood dog was a corgi it's the cutest pose ever)

How easy do they fall asleep?

Laird used to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. But he hasn't been able to do that since Weisshaupt. It usually takes him about an hour now, even with sleep aids and the comfort of His Person™ in bed with him. Though, interestingly, he's clocked out within minutes after the scant few times he's topped for certain activities...

Emmrich, for all his routine and meditation, also tends to take a while to follow asleep. The common case is he and Laird share idle chatter and pillow talk, until which he falls asleep midsentence and leaves his darling stifling giggles. The sound of him trailing off never stops being funny, really.

Do they toss and turn a lot?

Not particularly! Unless certain criteria are met, anyways. If it's hot, Laird will roll like a gas station hot dog seeking cold patches of bedding throughout the night. Emmrich in that situation tends to simply dangle an arm or leg off the bed.

Unfortunately, both of them suffer from thanataphobia. (because why have ONE Necromancer afraid of dying when you can have TWO and make them fall in love???) And sometimes when it's been plaguing them either by dream or waking hours, both get a little restless until they find each other in their sleep again. Then they settle down and fall back into a restful sleep.

Do they snore?

Thankfully no. Laird only ever snores if he's sick. In good health, however, Emmrich has occasionally had to put a hand on his side or back to feel for movement because Laird breaths a little TOO quietly in his sleep.

Emmrich's snores are more akin to idle sighs. Which is fortunate because Laird was known once to threaten to roll Davrin out of the tent as "forest fodder" for snoring obnoxiously during one particularly overstimulating night camping in Arlathan.

Who hogs the blanket?

In the beginning, both were guilty purely out of not being accustomed to sharing a blanket. Laird is largely at fault now, as he tends to "nest" in his sleep if Emmrich has rolled away.

What do they dream about?

Emmrich has borderline mastered Lucid dreaming over the years. Perusing the Fade and odd conversations with spirits. But nightmares do occasionally get in the way.

Laird, unfortunately, almost always has nightmares. And it's been that way since he can remember. More often than not, he forgets what they're about. The ones he does recall though typically involve his exile, losing Emmrich, or the horde of ghouls in Weisshaupt and Arlathan.

How easily do they wake up?

Imagine trying to wake up a dead person. Without magic or corpse whispering. Congratulations. You've got Laird. He's a very hard sleeper. While Emmrich is much gentler in his approach, Varric wasn't above hitting him with a pillow or unoccupied boot when they were on the road. Even during nightmares, he's nigh impossible to shake, scream, or smack awake.

Emmrich sleeps deeply, but can still wake at faint off noises or sudden changes in ambient brightness (like opening the curtains and the sun in his face). Too much movement can jar him, as well. It makes sharing a bed with Laird in the summer without proper room-cooling enchantments a travesty.

How awake they are afterwards?

While on the hazier end of things, Emmrich is often of the bright eyed and bushy tailed persuasion, all things considered. Give him a minute to get his morning tea and wash his face and he'll usually be chipper and relatively cognizant within the hour!

To watch Laird wake up is like watching a bear come out of hibernation. Mohawk skewed in every incorrect direction, beard matted down and cowlicked, bleary eyed, has not discovered language, and only knowing the phrases "hrnggh," "grmmrrrrh," and "nnyh?" Typically, Laird requires 1-2 business hours and some heavily concentrated espresso to become a functional, passable-as-living member of society. Once he finds a shirt, anyways. In a pinch, however, his daily brain reboot can be prodded to life a little faster if Emmrich's feeling a little frisky or you tempt him with his favourite breakfast items: either a hot pepper bagel or strawberry waffle.

Heheeheheheheehehehe this one was fun! Thanks for the tag!

Let's see... I nominate (with no pressure as always!)

@sofiemystique @yappacadaver (I would kill to hear Yumi's pov on some of these omg) @basic-x-witch @deny-the-issue @holdingontojupiter @theyearningghoul @ollypopwrites aaaand you! 🫵

Edit: @avoskorm I tagged you too but my keyboard decided to make a fool of me and just add an extra a to the dramatic and. Rude!

[asce-of-hearts]

15. The "Goodnight" Kiss - Shikamaru Nara

Contents: Shikamaru with prompt 15 of the kissing category

Event M.List

TAG LIST

more Shikamaru content here

WARNINGS: PENETRATIVE SEX

Night routines are the most important part of the day. Or at least that's what Shikamaru says.

You and him share a specific ritual before finally giving up to exhaustion. Cook dinner together, or go out if he’s feeling particularly lazy. You wash the dishes, he cleans the kitchen. He takes a bath if he’s feeling grimy, all while you brush your teeth and do whatever other troublesome thing you do with your face and products that terrify him for reasons he can’t explain. He brushes his teeth. You take some time to read, and he will play shogi with himself so he doesn’t get rusty. He has given up on playing with you, because it's no fun playing against the only one who manages to beat his ass every single time without any effort. If you’re both still restless, you’ll indulge in other… activities. Ones that leave you all the more tired than he’ll ever be, because he’s a slob, and loves to have you riding him until your knees just as for a break. Then he’ll pound you, nice and slow, make you squirt all over his cock and abs. And just when you’re trembling, spasming under his expert touch, he’ll call it a night. Another shower, the two of you this time, and he lets you wash his hair, and he rubs your back before rinsing the floral soap off it.

And once you’re in bed, snuggled under the covers, limbs tied and tangled, his head over your chest, or your head over his arm. Doesn’t matter, the important part is that you’re together. It’s the condition to go to bed, as long as you’re both home, none of you go to sleep if the other isn’t in bed.

“Night, Maru.” You say, nuzzling him.

“Forgetting something?” He asks, rather curtly.

“I did pee before bed.” You murmur, closing your eyes. 

“No, stupid. An important thing,” He groans, though in that second it feels more like a whine. “A very, veeeery important thing.” He ironizes, and you smile. Then, you pucker your lips and get closer to him.

“Kissy kissy for my husband, so sorry for forgetting.” You croon, he rolls his eyes and he thanks the night for hiding his blush. He cups your face in his hands, and finally, you kiss. A tender contact, passionate, delicate. “Sweet dreams, Shikamaru.” You whisper, and he smiles softly.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

TAGGING: @bad4amficideas @architectofsuffering @hoohamaru @starberryzos @nutz4nainaiiii @whatupbishs @dreamcastgirl99 @gina239 @sprinkle-cake11

[kiwiplaetzchen]

"Nosy, ps! Pspsps, Nosy! Are you awake?" Nosy hears Will whisper.

There is a smell of something tasty in the air, and if Nosy opens his eye ever so slightly, he would see a levitating piece of cake right in front of him.

"There are some, uuuh, cakes outside of the dorm for you because of the big day today."

Day? It's still dark but Will is already up, standing there in his pyjamas, with a wand in one hand and a toothbrush and a towel in the other. The clock in the Common Room strikes five times as Will levitates the piece of cake further and further away from the cosy spot on Sebastian's bed where Nosy is lounging.

"I know you like cakes so much, you can have them all! Pspspsps."

The Common Room was still dark when the whispers started. A flick of candlelight and the faint scent of something sugary crept across the room, but the teal lump on Sebastian's pillow did not stir. Not at first. There was a muffled honk and the slow rise of one furry brow.

It was far too early.

This Niffler couldn't read a clock, but even he damn. Well. Knew. That it was WAY too early for ANYONE to be up and about! Not even a damn cock feathered fowl was awake to crow at this ungodly hour! Well, anyone except this particular two-legged fellow... He buried his beak deeper into Sebastian's curls, trying to ignore William's annoying chirping voice.

What was he saying anyway? Cake?

Nosy's orbs snapped open.

CAKE!

In his burst of excitement, he clutched Sebastian's curls a bit too tightly. The wizard groaned in his sleep but didn't stir much further. It was not the first time his Niffler had been a little bit rough during bedtime, and probably not the last.

The moment Nosy's eyes adjusted, he saw it.

A damn fine cake. Fluffy layers of sponge, thick swirls of cream, glistening jam, and some very girthy strawberries on top. Suspiciously girthy.

He wasn't even listening to whatever the pretty Prefect was babbling on about. His eyes were locked on that floating miracle. He sat up, little paws reaching for it - but the cake floated just out of reach.

Nosy let out a grumpy snort. Pardon, who did this cake think it was? The little Niffler rolled off his companion's head with a soft plop, landed on the blankets, and scrambled after the retreating dessert, trying to snatch it again and again with tiny, determined hops and squeaks.

Come on, just one piece! Nosy would even be halfway satisfied with just a little lick! Maybe.

The cake continued to drift further, leading Nosy slowly but surely out of the dormitory. He didn't even notice the door whisper shut behind him. All that mattered was the sweet cream dream floating just ahead.

Then, at last, the cake stopped. It hovered for a moment, then smudged squarely to the floor. Nosy squeaked in pure joy, bouncing on the spot, little paws clapping with delight. He was just about to pounce when-

Oh.

Oh?

More cake.

Dozens of them.

Nosy hadn't even noticed the rest scattered across the carpet in his pursuit. Had he grown too careless? Too trusting? Too - no, it didn't matter. What mattered now was this: He had arrived in paradise!

He clutched his heart dramatically, as if Cupid's arrow struck right to the very soul of his sweet tooth.

With a little extra spin, the teal-furred menace launched himself through the air and landed face-first in a cake with a delighted SPLURF. He rolled over and immediately began making snow angels in the frosting.

With another cake, he buried himself like he was lounging on a beach, sculpting a tail fin from sticky goo on his lower half.

At one point, he climbed onto a towering stack of cupcakes and began declaring himself King of Cream with an overly smug honk - until the whole tower collapsed and buried him in frosting. Which Nosy did not mind. At all.

And at another point, he filled one of the hollowed-out cakes with jam and tried to paddle it across the carpet like a boat, before promptly capsizing with a squeak and a wave of cream.

He built a cake crown out of three stacked sponge cubes, wore it proudly for half a minute, then ate it all in one go.

The floor was a disaster. A cake massacre. Jam. Cream. Crumbs everywhere.

But Nosy didn't care. He ate and rolled and squeaked and scooped. He ate until his cheeks were full and his belly round. He ate until he couldn't tell if his fur was still teal or just cake-coloured.

What a day.

[theorphicangel]

clingy bf!sukuna...who swears that he is anything but clingy until he meets you.

clingy to the point where he follows you to the bathroom, keeping you company whilst you take a bath or a shower.

'Sukuna get out.'

'No I gotta piss.'

'You said that fifteen minutes ago and you're still here.'

'Gotta make sure you don't drown or something, you would do some stupid shit like that.'

'Gee thanks.'

also bf!sukuna being clingy to the point where he hangs around the kitchen whilst you cook or clean, following you around just to piss you off.

sukuna being clingy to the point where if you even move an inch off the couch whilst watching a movie, he immediately pauses the screen and asks you where you're going

'to get the popcorn obviously'

'oh.'

but the most clingy version of sukuna is when you wake up early in the morning and attempt to get ready for work.

keyword: attempt

it's like fighting a whole big cat similar to ones that you see in the zoo, sukuna's warm body trapping you in place underneath the sheets.

'i'm not doing this again with you sukuna...'

'mhmmmm.'

'i'm serious' you pinch his tattooed skin yet there's no reaction.

'm' serious too babe.' he groans. His eyes are closed with his pink locks messily arranged. His two hands wrap around your waist with nothing but security. 'you're not leaving.'

'I have a job, a commitment.'

'Is our marriage not a commitment?'

'we're not married 'kuna.'

There's a pause and for a second you think that Sukuna has fallen back to sleep.

'yet.'

'what did you just say?!'

[madamechrissy]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Satoru Gojo Long Fics ˚୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

All of my Satoru Gojo fics over 20k

Time after Time- Finished- Wc: 103k- (Ao3) CEO Gojo x fem assistant reader, you're his lead assistant and you put in your two weeks notice, because your boss is a grade A ASS- so Satoru Gojo pulls out ALL the stops to keep you. Is he who you thought he was, or more? Smutty/fun/sweet - my first Gojo fic

Take Me Home Tonight - Finished-Wc: 136k- law professor Gojo/x law student (A03) you hook up with a sexy white haired man at a club after passing your bar, only to be in his class two months later!?!? How can you handle falling in love with your professor, and can you both keep this a secret? Very witty/lots of banter, law setting-smutty and sweet

Fractured Desires - Finished- explicit- wc 95k (angsty/ toxic/smutfest) Ao3 You're Suguru Geto's girlfriend, and he decides to 'share you'- which becomes a fkn MESS, when you find out that Satoru has wanted you all along, and Suguru isn't who you think he is. (Starts off as Sugu/reader- Extremely explicit-yandere asf, Evil suguru, psycho Gojo)

Silent Serenades - Finished- wc 152k - You are promised to marry the handsome Duke Gojo, you're the diamond of the season, after all. Only thing is, he HATES you, and has no intention of being faithful. Now you're stuck in a loveless marriage that eats you from within, but you won't let him break you down. Angsty arranged marriage AU, love triangle, toxic- set in the 1800s- cruel Duke Gojo- AO3

Healing Hearts -Dr. Gojo/intern-ongoing- 70k You're an exhausted intern, living with your three friends, Maki, Toge and Yuuta, and you just so happen to be Dr. Gojo's intern. - or as you soon call him 'Dr. Hojo' he seems perfect, but he's hiding a dark secret. The two of you couldn't be more different, is there any hope? Hospital setting - angsty Ao3

Baby You're a Star - you meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, the two of you hit it off, but he is the top pornstar there is. You don't sleep around, soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?- explicit, super fkn angsty- shy/Demi reader w/Pornstar Satoru- it's gonna be a long oneee- explicit- ongoing 67k Ao3

Just Friends!? - Nerdjo x popular reader- based on the movie 'Just Friends'- Satoru left his old life behind, leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin, but is he still your sweet best friend deep down?- lots of angst and feels, friends to nothing to lovers- ongoing- 41.5k Ao3

Veiled Secrets- you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either. Angst/smut- 11k wc ongoing

Mini Series

Losing Control Now- Mafia AU, notorious mobster Satoru Gojo becomes obsessed with you, the pretty bartender at his favorite club- but he finds you have your own secrets, threats to your life, and plans to save you at all costs. Lots of smut, Satoru being obsessed, mafia themes - sweet Gojo- explicit - ongoing-31k Ao3

Took You Like a Shot - You and Satoru Gojo (fratboy/fuckboi Gojo) have been rivals for all of college, right up until the last day of school, where you end up under him and... pregnant somehow!? shit. But have you two actually hated each other, or are you both lying to yourselves? Can a party boy raise a kid? Fluffy, fun, has a lot of humor/pregnant reader- FINISHED - WC- 42k - Ao3

Would you come with me? -You have been Satoru's best friend forever, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. But have you been in love all along!? Three parts, fluffy and hella smutty, friends to lovers- Finished- three parts 22k Ao3

Escort Gojo Mini Series- FINISHED! - You're a rich CEO who hires a handsome escort, with a five star rating, who has one rule- no kissing. But will he break this rule? cute/sweet and light angst. WC- 15k

୨୧˚ Satoru Gojo Oneshots ˚୨୧

୨୧˚ Satoru Gojo Drabbles/ Headcanons ˚୨୧

[navydoves]

Dragon!Sylus and his habits while in heat

❥ You always knew being a dragon’s mate was going to be a bit… difficult.

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ absolutely claws you. you think your scratches on his back are bad? yeah, no, try dragon claws. yes, they HURT, but they hurt SO GOOD. sylus knows how fragile humans are so he won’t ever scratch you enough to really hurt you, but he will leave marks. mating season is when you get the most scabs and bruises.

pounding into you never felt so good. he needs somewhere to release the extra excitement in him and so sylus will gets a little claw-happy. no part of your body is left untouched, he’ll mark every part to make a beautiful masterpiece of pink and red on your skin.

❥ he tries to impress you. much like a modern bird, sylus is always about impressing his mate before mating with them. sometimes for days even before he has you bent over, he’ll begin the first step of courting you, which could be done by a multitude of things.

sylus with walk around naked, flexing his muscles and shiny shimmering scales in hopes of impressing you and seeing how virile he is. not to mention he’ll obviously show off his DDDs—double dragon dicks! they’ll swing low or perk up high, thick and creamy for your enjoyment. he’s saying “hey, hey! look at me! i’m the perfect mate for you.” sometimes sylus will growl at you or make certain warning noises not to scare you, but to show you he can protect you by doing that. it’s an entire draconic ritual that will have you simultaneously confused, impressed, and most importantly, aroused.

❥ he’s so goddamn loud. sylus is not usually one for loud noises, he prefers more tame atmospheres in his home… until he’s in his heat. day and night you’ll hear him stomping and thudding into things to assert dominance. it’s to simultaneously scare people and let them know that he’s there and not to be messed with.

not only that, but he roars. his growls are pretty loud and booming too, but sylus rarely lets out a full snarl unless he’s pretty upset or pretty horny. he’ll do it to anyone, even you. except, he uses his loud noises to instill fear into others but instill submission into you. don’t like it? he’ll try to tone it down, but it’s a reflex at this point. try to close your ears while he’s coming, it’s a powerful sound of pleasure and accomplishment.

❥ he has toy eggs. sylus knows he can’t give you babies and it makes him super upset. all his heat makes him think about is giving you babies, so to cope he got toy eggs. he essentially makes you play house with him with the eggs. you have to play mama dragon and he’s daddy dragon, and daddy dragon’s job is to protect and provide for his family while mama dragon’s job is to nurture the kids.

and he genuinely does do that. he will stalk the nest he’s built for you and his toy eggs; he will bring you and the eggs food to eat in the nest; he will bathe you and the eggs with his tongue; he will legitimately get emotional if something happens to you or the eggs. he’s a little hormonally crazy but you indulge him every single time.

❥ DOUBLE TROUBLE! that’s right, you’re cock-trained to take sylus twice at a time. on a normal occasion, you’ll only take one dragon dick at a time so you’re not overwhelmed. sylus will alternate so as to not neglect either one of his cocks, but that all changes during his heat!

DDDs all shoved up your poor pussy, you’re gonna break! sylus has slowly size trained you over every occasion of sex until you could somewhat comfortably take him two at a time. it takes so much restraint but he goes slow at first and by the time you’ve calmed down and let out the tears, he’s ready to really fuck. always paying attention to you, always licking away your tears, always embracing you, sylus will still give you the ride of your life. it’s like two rollercoasters at once, so jarring but addicting. how can you even still be tight after that? it’s a mystery. 𖤐

tl: @mangobellini , @rin-dont-wear-clothes , @kentosbak3ry , @napa-the-yappa , @amaveon , @ivysorrele , @webshooterrr9, @calebandenergydrinkaddict , @ch4c0nnenh4 , @lilkactuz

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere who breaks into your home and just won't leave.

Tw. Stalking, Yandere, nsfw themes, blackmail

You came back one day from work, tired as hell, only to find some strange man sitting on your couch with some boxes scattered around him. You threatened to call the cops, to scream and get him out, but he remained strangely calm if not a little boyishly eager.

"H-heh, I knew you'd be kind of upset. Don't worry, I already paid your rent for the next few months. T-took a bit of time to scrape together, but you're worth it babe."

When you then persisted on throwing him out, he simply took out a folder with shaking hands and showed you a mile wide stack of compromising photos that he'd somehow taken while you were completely unaware.

"Don't worry. I won't release them unless you make me."

So now you lived with your stalker now turned roommate.

It was strange. You couldn't kick him out, so you were forced to tolerate him. At first, you thought you could just wait until he left so you could hastily change the locks, but he just never left. He worked on his computer saying he had a remote job, and all of the groceries were delivered to the door. You didn't even have a chance to try and stop him.

He would creep his way into your bed at night, cook you breakfast, and act like nothing was wrong.

Yandere who likes to take photos of you openly now.

He snaps his camera at you while you brush your teeth or put on shoes. Every angle of you has been painstakingly catalogued and printed out in the albums now scattered on every table. He especially liked having pictures of the two of you together.

"Hehe, I used to have to edit myself in..."

You really didn't like mulling over what that could've possibly meant, so you just chose to gloss over it.

Yandere who likes to bathe and pamper you. It's so domestic that it's almost sickening. He makes homemade soaps to lather your skin in, and he's not half bad at making scrubs either. He learns how to do your hair in every style you like, and if you like getting your nails done, he learns that too. You asked him if it was to help save you money, but his reply was... less than ideal.

"I just don't want anyone else to touch you," He said sheepishly as he stashed the strands of your hair to use for god knows what.

Yandere who doesn't stop you from going out and living your life, but the second you get home, he's all over you. he's like your second skin, and even though you try to push him off, he just keeps nuzzling into your neck and practically humping your leg.

"C'mon! I was so good today... I cleaned and everything! At least kiss me!"

He becomes more and more comfortable in your apartment, and you slowly start to live with it as well. After all, a clean home, good food, rent paid and he pampers you like crazy: It's not exactly the worst deal in the world. Plus, he hasn't actually made any moves on you yet. No, most days he sits there smiling at you with a dopey grin and an obvious, untouched bulge in his sweatpants. He never touches himself around you, so at least he had the decency to not do that.

All in all, he's not the worst thing that could've broken into your home. Sure, it's not what you'd ever have wanted, but your starting to grow fond of this strange intruder. After all, it's hard to not be just a little bit endeared when he's snuggling up close and seeking your warmth like it was the only thing on the planet that mattered.

[sixeyesonathiel]

you are a girl of a small, irrelevant clan. a mere decorative piece offered to the untouchable, veiled head of the gojo clan in exchange for “peace,” “blessings,” or something equally vague and humiliating. your family won’t tell you anything. only that you must “make him an heir.”

no one has seen his face. you are told not even the servants had looked at him in the eye. they say his eyes are too divine to meet. that his cursed energy would shred the mind of anyone unworthy.

you’re escorted to the gardens of the inner estate to “acclimate” before the marriage. a few hours a day. no contact. no one speaks unless you ask—and even then, the answers are like riddles. frustrating.

so you start ranting. loudly. to a man you think is a mute guard or a gardener, someone forgettable.

“what if he’s a cursed beast with seven arms and no dick?” you hiss one afternoon, yanking petals off a camellia like it insulted your honor. “what if he’s a puppet? a wet, moldy puppet with dead man hands? i bet he smells like mildew and raw fish. and his eyes probably glow like a cat in heat. you think they’re hiding him because he’s too handsome? no. they’re hiding him because he’s hideous. like a spirit trapped in a porcelain doll. but worse. like—like if a haunted house and a rice cooker had a baby.”

the man you're speaking to doesn’t say anything. just listens. sometimes sweeps a few stones. sometimes waters a bush that doesn’t need watering.

“what if he doesn’t even have skin?” you go on, pacing in a huff. “what if he’s all bone. or goo. or cursed energy in a meat sack. no face, just a vague blur. oh my god. what if he talks backwards?!”

one time, he chuckles. it’s soft. amused.

you freeze. “you laughed.”

he shrugs. eyes unreadable.

you don’t realize yet—that was him.

the night arrives. everything’s ceremonial. you're bathed, perfumed, and draped in layers of embroidered silk so heavy they drag behind you like chains. your wrists are tied with a red cord. a blindfold covers your eyes. you feel like an offering. you are an offering.

the room is quiet when you’re laid down. there’s a hush to everything, like the air is waiting to breathe. the futon is soft beneath your back. the scent of incense wraps around you like fog.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t rush. you hear cloth rustle. then stillness. the shift of the air tells you he’s moved closer. your skin prickles with nerves.

a fingertip grazes your hip. you flinch.

he shushes you gently. a whisper against your ear. soothing. too tender for someone who’s supposed to use you.

his hands explore you slowly, reverently. they trace the dip of your waist, the swell of your hips, the slope of your thighs. fingertips glide up your ribs, linger beneath your breasts. then his mouth replaces them.

his lips are warm and soft as they land on your collarbone, then lower. the blindfold amplifies everything. your skin tingles with every breath he takes near it. he tongues over your nipple, languid and maddening, until you arch into him.

you whisper, dazed, “what are you?”

he chuckles against your skin. “your husband.”

you expect it to be harsh. clinical. but he touches you like you’re fragile. sacred. his fingers find the slick heat between your legs and slide through it, slow and unhurried. he spreads you open with a reverence that borders on obscene. it feels like a ritual. like devotion.

he sinks one finger inside. then two. the stretch burns, but his thumb strokes something sweet and aching. his other hand cups your breast. you feel owned. undone.

when he lines himself up, he doesn’t say a word. doesn’t warn you. just presses forward until you’re full—too full—split open and gasping.

he groans. you feel it vibrate against your chest as he leans over you.

“so warm,” he breathes. “so tight. you were made for this.”

he thrusts. slow. deep. dragging himself out just to slide back in, each stroke heavier than the last. his hands pin your tied wrists above your head. his mouth traces your jaw, then your ear.

“don’t hold back,” he whispers. “i want to hear everything.”

you moan. cry out. sob. he drinks it in like a dying man. like it sustains him. he fucks you like it’s worship. like it’s art. like he’s sculpting you around him.

his pace never falters. every thrust is exact. every roll of his hips hits something inside you that makes your toes curl. you feel yourself unraveling. more than once. again. again. he whispers praise between kisses.

“so pretty when you come.” “that’s it, cry for me.” “take it. take all of me.”

he holds you down when your thighs start to shake. kisses your temple as you convulse around him. you don’t know how long it lasts. only that when he finally spills inside you, it’s with a low groan and your name tangled in it like a secret.

he unties your wrists gently. rubs your skin where the cord left marks. then removes the blindfold.

silver hair. eyes like starfire drowned in ice.

your breath catches. “you—”

“i’m not a cursed doll,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “but i liked hearing your theories.”

your stomach flips. “you—when—how long—?”

he smiles. “especially the one where i was a beast locked in a tower. very romantic.”

you gape at him. this divine, impossible man.

“…why didn’t you say anything?”

he leans close. brushes a thumb across your bottom lip.

“because you never asked for my name, wife.”

[sacred-treasure]

𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧

𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝘅 𝗙𝗘𝗠!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

Summary: Toji comes home after a long shift to you, his sweet roommate, asleep on the couch. His innocent admiration turns into something darker as he gives into repressed desires

Warnings: dark content!!—dubcon, somnophilia (touching over clothes, reader orgasms while asleep), age gap (toji's in his 40s, reader's in her early 20s), pet names, smut, 18+, do not read if any of these are upsetting to you!!

Word Count: 2.75k

Author's Note: This is loosely based off of @holeforzenin's Roommate Toji series. That version of Roommate!Toji would not do something like this, but the idea of that dynamic had us both reeling and I absolutely had to write something about it!!

Toji was tired. No, exhausted.

He’s honestly not sure there’s a word in the dictionary that can truly sum up the total depletion of energy from his overworked muscles. Each work day is never just as short as the schedule says and with him working a blue collared job, there’s absolutely no way he gets to clock out unscathed.

Every night he comes home to a silent apartment, a cold bed, and dinner already packed up in two tupperware containers in the fridge. They have matching sticky notes attached to them; one says “dinner!” and the other says “for lunch!”, and if he’s honest, he finds the little smiley faces you draw beside the messages endearing. But he probably would never admit to it. Not to your face, at least.

He’s used to the hum of the microwave as he lets the scent of spices from your cooking fill the small space of the kitchen. Toji may not be good at expressing it but he’s truly quite thankful to have you around the apartment. It’s hard enough having a job that demands every waking moment from him—not to mention the stacks of billing statements sitting on the dining table—but having to plan meals after each night is truly something he doesn’t have time for.

But tonight, he has something better than a homemade meal waiting for him.

Toji unlocks the front door with one of the keys attached to the old carabiner hanging off his belt loop, the simple action feeling immensely laborious. Grabbing hold of the doorframe, he toes off his shoes one after the other and neatly sets them beside your pair of converse, the soles scuffed and worn with their age. When he finally raises his head, he’s met with your sleeping form draped across the couch.

Typically, you finish separating his meals after eating a portion yourself and spend the rest of the night in your room studying until your brain physically can’t cram any more information inside of it. He never asks for your attention, though he misses it dearly at night, and tends to cling onto the memories of your laughter filling the living room.

A sudden applause snaps him back to the present and he turns his head toward the sound. The television is still on, one of the old cartoons you mentioned you grew up watching plays softly in the background. He scoffs and shakes his head at some joke that falls flat before stepping with heavy feet further into the apartment until he’s towering over the couch where you lay.

The light from the screen bathes your face in a warm glow. He takes this moment to really commit your features to memory, although he doesn’t know the exact reasoning behind his actions. The scene from the show changes and the colors illuminating your face alter their hue. He thinks you look pretty like this, peaceful at last after all your running around between chores, classes, and work.

Toji doesn’t even think before reaching down and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. Your nose crinkles from the tickle of his finger brushing across your cheek, but your eyes remain shut. A smile tugs at his lips as he finds the action kind of adorable.

His eyes begin to wander lower as he focuses on each one of your steady breaths. The rise and fall of your body is accentuated by the thin tank top that clings to your chest, the strap beginning to slip off your shoulder and exposing another inch to the line of your cleavage. He feels heat slowly begin to crawl up his neck and he immediately fixes his gaze on the wall above your head.

“Fuck, Fushiguro, you know better,” he scolds himself.

Has it been a while? Yes. Has he ever viewed you in that light before? Well, if he’s honest it has crossed his mind. He can’t exactly blame himself. All he’s had time for is work and barely getting enough rest before doing it all over again the next day. There hasn't been time to even think about getting into a relationship, much less having time to find someone for sex.

However, having a cute, young girl in the house certainly makes things interesting. He’s only had thoughts that involve you for a brief moment, and the second he realizes what he’s imagining, he forces himself to stop.

Though, there’s something about this scene that stirs in his stomach before settling below his belt. It’s a feeling he can’t name, but one that isn’t altogether unfamiliar. It’s something akin to lust, but there’s another emotion curled around it—guilt, or maybe shame. He knows the role he plays in your life and he knows damn well he shouldn’t even be considering something like this.

But today Toji is just too tired.

That indescribable feeling in the pit of his stomach returns but for once, he allows it to stay. His fingers reach for the remote to the television, sparing only one glance to press a soft button to mute the sound before placing it back on the table. 

You look so pretty like this: hair sprawled out across the throw pillow, lips parted slightly with silent snores, pretty legs draped along the length of the couch. He doesn’t know why, but even with all the immense tons of guilt, he can’t stop himself from sinking down on the cushions beside you.

He tells himself he’ll only touch for a second. That’s all—he just needs one second to feel your warmth. But once his hand finally touches you for himself, he wonders why the hell he hasn’t done it sooner.

Soft doesn’t even begin to scrape the surface of just how heavenly you feel. His calloused palms lightly trail over the length of your shin, fingers curling around your smooth skin before brushing his thumb over your knee. Each touch is soaked in affection in its own specific way. Toji’s emotions blend and create something new he’s never felt before.

He lets out a heavy sigh through his nose as he halts his movements altogether. Reasoning and desire fight within him, his head is screaming protests that are ignored as his body’s instincts win the internal battle.

As he shoves the remaining guilt aside, that small spark in his stomach roars to life.

Toji leans down and presses his scarred lips to the bend of your knee. The touch is featherlight and innocent in its own way. With the close proximity, he can smell the scent of your body wash layered underneath the sweet smell of the lotion you lather yourself with after each shower.

The contact of his warm skin is met with goosebumps and he watches with awe as they scatter along the expanse of your leg. A smirk tugs at his mouth when he sees just how sensitive you are, even while unconscious. His eyes trail along your thigh, watching as the bumps spread higher and higher before they disappear under the hem of your pajama shorts.

The thin matching set you’re wearing does nothing but aid in the sense of guilt he’s already drowning in. It reminds him of how vulnerable you look like this, but he tries to reason with himself that he’s been good up until now, right?

His rough fingertips glide over your thigh but come to a full stop when they’re engulfed in the warmth pooling from your core. He hasn’t felt anything so welcoming in months—he doesn’t remember the last time he felt another person’s presence, besides the little moments he’s spent with you. But sexually? He feels like a goddamn teenager all over again.

The twitch of his cock behind his jeans is undeniable and he’s gritting his teeth in frustration at just how easily this is getting to him. But still, he presses on, his thumb swiftly pulling the hole of your shorts to the side and exposing your pink panties.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself in the otherwise silent room. The tension is so thick he wonders if choking on the air would be enough to kill him or if his racing heart would give out first. His hand moves of its own accord, traveling down to the worn denim and cupping the growing bulge below his belt. It’s screaming for relief, for any kind of friction, and his palm does little to stop the continuous blood flowing to the area.

Toji hesitantly reaches for your clothed center, his fingers pressing gently to the supple skin between your thighs. The heat nearly makes him flinch and he swears he hasn’t felt something this soft in his entire life. You let out a quiet sound from his touch as you stir in your sleep. His eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights but you merely change the angle of your arm before drifting back off once more.

Toji swallows once before continuing, his eyes trained on the barely noticeable line along the center of your panties. His thumb reaches blindly to the gentle slope of your body and makes contact with your clit. He applies the slightest bit of pressure, smiling as he notices the way your leg twitches, unsure of whether to close or not.

Your head turns and your eyebrows pull together in pleasure at the slow circling of his thumb. On a particular hard press, your breath hitches before breaking off in a pitchy whine. He’s absolutely certain he’s never heard anything sound as sweet as that noise and he’s determined to hear more.

He runs his pointer finger along the center of your folds and watches in awe as the fabric darkens immediately from your slick. He feels his body react strongly to the sight and suddenly his own underwear are sticking to him after a rush of precum leaks from his swollen tip. His freehand curls around his cock and squeezes just underneath the head, refusing to loosen his grip.

The sensation of the damp fabric sticking to your most sensitive area has a shiver creeping up your spine and your skin pebbles once more. Toji’s lust-filled, green eyes follow them in their wake up until they dive under the thin material of your tank top. Your nipples harden in response, peeking the fabric as they stiffen.

This is the most restraint Toji has ever shown in his life, he’s absolutely sure of it.

Every nerve in his body is set alight and is screaming out to touch you more, touch you the way he truly wants. His mind floods with the most perverted images: your eyes shiny with unfallen tears, his name falling from your swollen lips, you seeking him out when you just can’t finish yourself off. Every scene piles on top of the one before until anything left of his conscience is fully submerged in the thought of you.

“T…Toji?” Your voice weakly calls out into the quiet space, shattering the silence. His eyes immediately lock onto yours, taking in the dazed expression on your face. You’re blinking sleep out of your eyes but still drowning in the unconscious fog you were just under.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Toji placates gently, neither of his hands even attempting to stop their motions.

“W-What are you doing?” The tremor in your voice is notable as your gaze casts downwards, watching his wrist moving between your thighs. You gasp at the feeling, suddenly aware of how alarmingly tight the coil inside your stomach already is. “Mmm, Toji, I don’t know if you should be—,” you attempt to warn him, but he cuts you off once more.

“Let me take care of you. Just like I always do, right?” His deep voice is different than you’ve ever heard before. It’s rougher now, something gravely laced into his tone that isn’t the usual fatigue that you’re used to hearing after his late night shifts.

“I take care of you, don’t I, sweetheart?” He presses further, awaiting an answer. You hesitantly nod your head before resting it back against the pillow you had been sleeping on, letting the sensations of his experienced hands roll over your tired body.

“Attagirl, there she is. I got you,” he mutters to himself as he sees your eyes beginning to flutter shut. He pulls his hand away from your clit and begins to rub the inside of your thigh soothingly. His touch makes the slight panic flea your mind, he can physically see the tension leave your body as you give into your unconsciousness lulling you under the waves once more.

“So good for me…” The whispered words fall on deaf ears but he smiles at your features falling back into the peaceful state again. His cock is pulsing faster than the rise and fall of your chest, aching to be freed from the old denim of his jeans. But he focuses all his attention on you instead.

He brings his calloused palm back between your legs to cup your covered pussy once more. This time, he tugs at the bow at the center of the waistband, watching with a stifled groan as the panties bunch up between your folds. The action only defines your body even further and he has to bite back the urge to tear the fabric entirely.

“You’re fuckin’ ruining me,” Toji grunts as he presses his thumb back to your clit. He moves quicker this time, determined to make you feel good. He applies more pressure on each circle around your sensitive spot and your body begins to reel from it all.

Your thighs shut around his hand, rocking up into his touch subconsciously. Small whines begin cascading from your mouth and it only spurs him on further.

Toji doesn’t slow his actions when he notices you coming for him. He merely watches as your back arches, hips chasing after your orgasm as breathy, broken sounds spill past your parted lips. Your stomach clenches, thighs tensing as your hand comes to weakly push his larger one away when the pleasure blurs into overstimulation.

“Tojiiiii.” Another weak whimper escapes your slumber as your leg faintly twitches with his slow circles. Pride soaks the smile that adorns his face and he can’t even help the whispered praise that leaves him.

“Good girl. Did so, so well,” his speaks softly, the words dripping with adoration. You begin to move again and his eyes follow to your fingers that softly curl around his palm. There’s a fondness in his chest as he watches you reach out to him, looking for his support even in your subconsciousness.

Any remaining energy is completely drained from your body after the orgasm he brought forth. He watches your body fall into a deeper sleep than before he even interrupted, your chest reverting to its slow rise and fall. He gives a light squeeze to your curled fingers before standing up to finally retreat to his room for the first time tonight.

“Get some rest, pretty,” he whispers against your forehead as he bends down. His lips press a gentle kiss to your temple as he cups the back of your head, the act completely innocent in nature.

When Toji finally sinks into the soft mattress of his bed, he’s drowning in the memories of what just occurred. His cock still aches for his attention, swollen tip flushed and shiny with precum. He frees himself from the confines of the denim, wincing when his hard length slaps up against his stomach. The same hand that brought on your orgasm wraps around his thick dick. It doesn’t take long until he’s spilling white, a choked back grunt stuck in his throat as he pictures your soaked panties.

The next morning, the both of you dance around each other with a thickness in the air. Toji’s unable to meet your eyes due to the knowledge of what he’s done.

“Did you sleep well?” You ask innocently from the kitchen counter, your back facing the man twice your age. Toji chokes on his coffee, setting the mug down all too fast while clutching his chest.

“Shit,” he curses as he catches his breath. “Y-yeah. Guess I did?” The statement twists highest at the end and comes across as more of a question. “Late night. ‘M beat. How about you, kid?”

“I slept okay, I think? Had a weird dream last night,” your voice grows quieter as the flashes of Toji’s face foggily return to your brain. “Felt so realistic, though…”

[kisssukuna33]

Sukuna would be the type of boyfriend to be overly protective. Not just because of his possessiveness just because he loves you so much.

You want to go shopping? He will always go with you no matter how many bags he will have to carry around while following you like a puppy. You want to take a walk? He's already putting on his shoes. You are going to a girl's night out? He will drive you to the place by his cab and analyzes the place for a good few minutes before he feels satisfied enough to leave you there. Hell! He will wait outside the whole time if you let him be but you always reject the idea because you don't want Sukuna to appear crazy in front of your friends.

It's the same when you two go out in public. Sukuna will always keep a hand on your waist or hold your hand the entire time. If anyone dare to look your way he make sure they see the disgusted scowl in his face everytime. Sometimes "The fuck are you looking at?" right after.

Let's talk about traveling with Sukuna as your bf because this man personally research every place you two would go to before the trip, if you recommend a sketchy or a dangerous spot he immediately rejects it in a second even though Sukuna and his cab have been through much more worse places than you could imagine but that doesn't matter anymore because now he has a priority to take care of. He would put on your seatbelt by himself just to make sure. And if you two are trying out new foods in the wild he is always the first to take a bite just to make sure it won't harm his girl. When you two check into a hotel worry not Sukuna will always make sure you two get the best room even if it means bribing the hotel employees. If you are hiking and show even a little bit of tiredness Sukuna won't hesitate to picking you up in a second. His excuse is "Tch, you are making us slow woman" when in reality he doesn't want to see you in pain. You wanted to bathe in the river? He won't let you move through the waters alone no hell no, he will carry you until he finds a spot suitable in the river that isn't deep enough to put you down.

It's worse when you are sick. He will stick by your side tending to you and taking care of you 24/7. He make sure you get the right amount of medicine and food and if you refuse to eat he will personally feed you, if you reject again he will literally find a way to threaten you.

"I don't want to eat Kuna!! Please"

"I won't ask again brat open up"

"is that suppose to scare me?"

"Fine then, that ugly ass plushie you love so much is going down the toilet"

"NO!!"

There are times where his overprotectiveness tend to go a little too far and you aren't afraid to confront him about it when that happens and Sukuna always welcome your criticism with open arms and tries to change despite his stubborn and rigid ways because that is what it means to be loved by Ryomen Sukuna.

I love this man sm omg <333 I want to write more bf Sukuna, send me ideas please :D!!

[mittenkisses]

bathing with them

ft : dorm leaders (riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus)

a/n : i crave nonsexual intimacy

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ 🐚

riddle takes a bit of convincing. he prefers to be independent, and that extends to almost every aspect of his life, including this one. it takes a while for him to give, but he's not resistant to your puppy eyes. his tub is barely big enough to comfortably fit the two of you. there are rose petals and a sweet honeysuckle scented soap, as per the queen's rules. his muscles are still a bit stiff after getting in, but when you begin lathering soap on his back and rubbing it in, he practically melts in your arms.

leona has to be dragged out of bed. he showers when he has to, but he's not a big fan of his fur getting wet—plus, he'd much rather sleep the day away. still, after a bit of convincing he lets you take him to the bath, although he might make you run it again if the water temperature isn't warm enough. he prefers to wash himself, but he doesn't swat you away if you want to help him out a little. you try reaching up to wash behind his ears, but his glare quickly changes your mind.

azul is, frankly, scared of being so vulnerable in front of another person. especially when that vulnerability involves his body. maybe he's not as self-conscious as he once was, but it doesn't simply disappear. still, he caves eventually, though he covers himself as much as he can with his arms. he's worried how you'll react, but when you don't say anything he begins to loosen up, just a little. he shivers when you gently trace his stretch marks. he rushes through it and gets out of the bath fairly quickly, but it's a start.

kalim's bathtub is so big it may as well be a swimming pool, with about every product you can think of. he's happy to share it all with you, filling the water with suds and making the entire room smell wonderful. he insists on washing your hair for you, and when it dries, it's softer than ever before. the two of you stay in until the water is cold and your skin is wrinkled, having spent half the time just talking and playing.

vil has only the best products, and they all have matching lavender scents, too. he narrates as he washes you, telling you what each thing does and how to properly use them. his skin is soft but his touch is a bit rough, although it's all worth it in the end when you come out feeling cleaner than ever. he has fluffy, warm towels and robes waiting for you once you're done, though even after you step out, he has plenty more skincare items to use on you.

idia curses himself for not making his tablet waterproof as he stumbles his way through his words, trying not to look at you. he flusters easily, and there's a faint pink tinge to his hair that doesn't go away. he lets you wash him for a bit before it fully sets in what you're doing and he takes over. in return, he gives you a nice shoulder and back massage, being (un)surprisingly skilled at working with his hands. after he's dressed, he's gone instantly. his dating sims hadn't quite prepared him for this.

malleus finds it amusing how little you fear him; the idea of bathing with him would have anyone else cowering, and yet here you are. he teases you a little to coax you into washing him—he's royalty, he's always had someone else to help him, and you wouldn't make the crown prince bathe himself, would you? it's all bullshit, of course, he's very capable of washing himself, but he loves having all your attention on him.

[abyssyby]

sylus has twin boys and one of them is shyer than the other :< baby one takes after his smug, charming bravado— speaks with a loud playful voice, emotes like a cute little cartoon and always ready for a spotlight. baby two is quieter, just wants to be held, hides behind papa's pant leg when he's introduced to new people and buries his face in mama's neck when he's asked for his name.

sylus is gone for forever (two days) before finally coming home. your voice is hoarse of repeating "papa's not home yet, angel," to little boys who want to play on their moving, talking, loving jungle gym of a father.

baby one runs headfirst towards him to play-fight— pulling at his hair and tugging on his ears— while sylus lifts him up, tickling him and blowing raspberries into his round cheeks.

baby two waits. he toddles after sylus only once he settles on the couch and sighs the stress of the day away. with great effort, he climbs up. sylus hears the squeaking stretch of leather, then feels the familiar weight on his side— a little ball of warmth nuzzling his cheek and shoulder to his papa's torso, squeezing himself under his arm to receive an embrace.

sylus responds quietly, bringing him closer and placing a tender kiss in his messy starlight hair. baby plays with the fabric of his expensive sweater, pulling and crumpling it in his little fists, just as mesmerized by the sensation as both are by the crackling fire.

baby one— a rocket— climbs on him too.

sylus has learned more sound effects since his sons were born, beyond your own favorite "bang!" when you poke his side. baby one's little fingers dig into his father's cheeks, as he goes, "pow!"

sylus lets out an indulgent play-dead 'eugh'— then a completely involuntary 'oof' as his son plops on his stomach before he slides to the other unoccupied arm. sylus's palm hovers over his head ever so slightly, making sure he lands safely. there, he also winds down and stares at the flames.

"pa?" baby two says, lifting his head. sylus turns to him— it still astonishes him how much of you he sees in his little angel's sleepy gaze. he carries your same wide, gentle look, now blinking slowly, dreamily.

"hm?"

"home?"

sylus hums. baby feels its steady rumble beneath his fingers. "mhm."

the baby nods slowly— only now understanding the word fully. connecting the dots between when mama says he's not and when he is. this is home. this feels like home. papa is home.

to that, he murmurs a soft m'kay and nestles his head back where it was before.

and you find them bathed in firelight, their white hair turned orange in its glow. his carbon copies, little lips parted, their chubby cheeks squished against their father's warm embrace. and your darling husband, head tilted back against the headrest, arms wound protectively around his sons.

you walk around, pressing a kiss to the crease between his brows before slipping a pillow underneath the base of his head. the photo you take of them stays as sylus's lock screen— until further notice.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

edit: a twin babies fic finally here! ◟(๑•͈ᴗ•͈)◞