#DO YOU KNOW HOW RARE AND PRECIOUS IT IS....

[heartsiebyul]

Twisted Wonderland characters waking up first and melting at the sight of their sleeping lover.

— Second Years : Riddle : Ruggie : Azul : Jade : Floyd : Jamil : Kalim : Silver x reader!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle wakes with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, golden beams warming the crisp white linens around him. At first, he instinctively reaches for his planner, but the moment his eyes fall on your sleeping face, his heart stutters—and everything else fades away. You look so serene, lashes fluttering ever so slightly, lips parted as you breathe slow and steady. Gently, he brushes your hair from your forehead with careful fingers, as if afraid to break the spell. "You're too good to me," he whispers, voice barely audible. "How did I ever get so lucky…?" He stays like that, cheek propped on one hand, memorizing you as though every second spent beside you is a luxury he still can’t believe he’s allowed.

He leans in closer, planting the softest kiss on your temple, his nose brushing your skin like a butterfly’s wing. You stir slightly, turning toward him, and a rare, gentle smile stretches across his lips. No rules, no lectures, no responsibilities—just you. He lets his fingers ghost along your cheek, heart swelling with something quiet and precious. “I love you,” he murmurs again, though you can’t hear it. “And I’ll make sure you know it—every single day.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Sunlight sneaks into the room through a sliver in the curtains, casting a warm line across your bare shoulder. Ruggie wakes first, blinking slowly, and instead of his usual groggy dash to get a head start on chores or errands, he just… stops. For once, there’s no rush. His bluish-gray eyes soften as they rest on you, tangled in the sheets, your cheek squished slightly against the pillow. He lets out a breathy chuckle and grins, propping himself up on one elbow as he gently runs a hand through your hair, sweeping it back with lazy affection. “Man, you’re really something, y’know that?” he murmurs, voice low and fond.

He traces the curve of your jaw with the back of his fingers, not wanting to wake you but needing to touch you somehow. His usual teasing demeanor is nowhere to be found—only warmth and a surprising depth of emotion in his gaze. “I don’t get it… what did a scrappy guy like me do to end up here, in bed with someone like you?” he wonders aloud, more to himself than anything. Ruggie leans in and nuzzles his nose into your hair, letting the moment wrap around him like a warm blanket. “I love ya. More than I probably should.” And with that, he settles in close, holding you lightly as if the world outside doesn’t exist yet.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul wakes with a start, expecting his alarm or a knock at the door, but finds only silence and the gentle rhythm of your breathing beside him. The tension in his shoulders melts away, replaced by something softer—rarer. He turns his head and sees you still asleep, the faintest smile on your lips, the morning light catching on your lashes. His heart aches in the best way. His hand moves almost involuntarily to brush a lock of hair from your face, and he catches his breath at how peaceful you look. “You’re so… perfect like this,” he whispers, his voice hushed and reverent, as if any louder might wake you from some sacred dream.

For someone who has built his life on contracts and negotiations, Azul finds this—waking beside you—utterly priceless. He allows himself the indulgence of simply watching you, eyes flicking over your features as if trying to etch them into memory. “You make me feel like I’m worth loving,” he says so quietly it’s nearly lost in the rustle of the sheets. Slowly, he leans in, lips ghosting over your forehead in a silent promise. For just this morning, he’ll let his walls stay down, basking in the warmth of a love he never dared to wish for.

Jade Leech

Jade opens his eyes slowly, the soft scent of your hair and skin already filling his senses. The world outside may still be dark and foggy, but here in bed with you, everything feels vivid. His mismatched eyes study you with quiet fascination—you, so vulnerable and trusting, curled against him. Carefully, he pushes your hair back, watching the way it frames your sleeping face. “How rare… to witness such peace,” he murmurs with an affectionate smirk, fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek.

He finds himself entranced, a slow and quiet adoration settling over him like morning mist. Jade’s gaze lingers, not just on your beauty but on the trust you’ve given him. “If only you knew how deeply I treasure this,” he breathes, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He doesn’t kiss you, not yet—he simply watches, absorbing the stillness and softness you offer. And in that silence, something unspoken passes through him: a promise of protection, of care, and a love far deeper than the ocean.

Floyd Leech

Floyd’s arms are already around you when he stirs, face buried in your neck. He blinks slowly, squinting at the lazy light filtering in from the window. For once, he doesn’t feel like jumping out of bed or dragging you into chaos—no, this moment feels too perfect to disturb. He peers at your sleeping face and lets out a low, sleepy chuckle. “Shrimpy, you’re so cute when you sleep,” he mumbles, booping your nose gently with his finger. “Makes me wanna squish ya, but… I’ll be nice today.”

He nuzzles closer, sighing contentedly as his fingers tangle in your hair. Floyd isn’t usually one for quiet, but something about this stillness with you makes his heart feel weird—in a good way. “I love you, y’know that?” he whispers, half-lidded eyes soft and honest for once. “Even when I’m all bitey… I still love you this much.” He stretches out beside you, long limbs tangled with yours, and smiles like he’s got the world in his arms. Because to him, he does.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim wakes up to sunlight and happiness, even before his eyes open. The warmth of your body beside his is the first thing he registers, and he can’t help but smile before even looking at you. When he finally peeks through heavy lids, his entire expression softens—there you are, his favorite person in the whole world, sleeping peacefully in his arms. He immediately cuddles closer, unable to resist brushing your bangs back and pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. “Good morning, sunshine,” he whispers, though he doesn’t mind if you don’t respond yet.

His heart feels full to bursting, like it always does when he sees you like this—safe, soft, and his. He gazes at you with stars in his eyes, arms tightening around you protectively. “You make everything in my life better,” he murmurs, like a secret. “Just seeing you like this makes me the happiest guy alive.” Kalim stays there, radiating affection, waiting for you to wake up just so he can shower you in kisses and start another day of loving you.

Jamil Viper

Jamil wakes with practiced ease, years of early mornings ensuring he never oversleeps. But today, instead of slipping away to start the day in silence, he stays. You’re asleep beside him, your face relaxed in a way he rarely gets to see when the world is awake. He stares, feeling the tightness in his chest ease with every breath you take. Gently, he pushes your hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your temple with tender reverence. “You really are… dangerous,” he whispers with a faint smile, his voice almost amused. “You make me forget everything else.”

He leans in, resting his forehead against yours for a long, still moment. For once, there’s no mask, no duty—just him, and you. “I love you,” he breathes, not expecting you to hear it but needing to say it anyway. “Even when I can’t say it aloud, know that I do.” He stays like that, the morning ticking by slowly, willing the world to pause so he can keep holding onto this rare peace just a little longer.

Silver

Silver wakes slowly, dream still clinging to his lashes. For once, it wasn’t a dream of duty or danger—it was of you, warm and smiling, and when he opens his eyes to see you still curled up beside him, he feels like he's dreaming still. His heart swells with quiet devotion as he reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear, hand steady and gentle. “You look so peaceful,” he murmurs softly, a small smile touching his lips. “I hope your dreams are sweet.”

He didn't move, afraid to disturb the serenity in the room. Instead, he studies every detail of your face as if he could commit it to memory. “I love you,” he whispers reverently, a confession that feels too big for words. With the sunlight painting golden outlines around your figure, Silver leans down and presses a delicate kiss to your cheek before settling back beside you. He’ll guard your sleep a little longer, even if he’s barely awake himself—because you’re his most precious peace.

I'll do the requests tomorrow! 💗

[muffinsin]

hello gorgeous!

I hope your doing well and are having a lovely week!! I'm interested and wondering if you'd like to do some hc or anything really around Alcina taking her three little bug flies to a lord meeting, or juet how the Dimitrescu daughters act and feel if you dont wanna add alcina into it!

love your work and hope you have a blessed day ♡

Hey there, hon :)! Absolutely!👀 I’ve been including little thoughts of her behaviour and thoughts when taking her buggies to meetings here and there, normally in my latest Story, though it’s fun to get them out as proper HCs ;P!

Let’s get into it🙌!

Masterlists

Generally speaking, Alcina is not particularly eager about taking her daughters to the meetings

It isn’t that she trusts them- that is not entirely the reason, at least- but rather her fierce, draconic protectiveness of them

She is no fool, and would not go so far as to say she truly trusts any of the lords, or Mother Miranda, with what is most precious to her: Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela

She knows vaguely of twisted secrets snaking like vines throughout Donna Beneviento’s domain, knows of the utter lack of life there

She knows of Salvatore Moreau’s twisted experiments, knows of the dangers the mere region- the reservoir- poses for her daughters. She knows of his dedication to Mother Miranda, sees it knows no bounds and will do whatever he sees fit to please her, no matter how twisted

She knows of Heisenberg’s cruelty. She knows of his anger, his hatred. And while she cannot control Cassandra in particular sneaking off to his factory to toy with Lycans and his machinery alike, she does intend to not bring her daughters any closer than she must

And lastly, Mother Miranda herself

She is dedicated, of course. Of course, Mother Miranda knows of her daughters, knows of their progress, their abilities, their limits. And while Alcina does look up to the woman, she sees her critical, cold demeanor, knows she would not spare even a glance of kindness for her daughters should they act out during a meeting

Alas, she very rarely brings them along. In fact, she has done so only three times

Once, a required, demanded opportunity to introduce the three to the Lords

It was no request, certainly

The second time was similar, serving only the purpose to show off their abilities and skills and most of all, their progress

And one last time, only to calm the curiosity plaguing the three women’s minds and to prove to Cassandra and Daniela in particular; such meetings are no place for their impatient minds, as they would merely bore them

Bela

Out of all her sisters, Bela is the one attending meetings the most, and the only one attending ones they may not join

She is, after all, Mother’s heiress- as she enjoys reminding them of

That aside, Bela stands out with impeccable manners

She keeps quiet, just rarely granted to speak during meetings. Still, she likes the importance attending makes her feel. Her sisters don’t have to know she must stay quiet by their mother’s side nearly the entire time

That being said, Bela never disrupts the meeting

She’s quiet, and still

She doesn’t speak when not addressed and doesn’t squirm in her seat from impatience or boredom

She listens, often nodding her head a little awkwardly, unsure whether her presence is tolerated, or appreciated

And still, she finds it all makes up for how the meetings make her feel

After all, it means Alcina trusts her, knows she can and will behave, knows she can rely on her

Often, she convinces herself: this must mean she’s Mother’s real favorite! No matter what her sisters say…

Sometimes, she studies the Lords, particularly curious about them

She never speaks to any of the lords without being addressed by them, though watches

She knows the most of Heisenberg, often course, and often snarls quietly to herself before the meeting starts, when the man picks a fight with her mother

Endearing, Alcina thinks whenever she picks up the little, sharp sound. Her daughter does come after her, easily adapting her dislike towards the other Lord

Still; once the meeting begins, Bela is sure to keep up the calm facade she knows is expected of her in the presence of the other lords and Mother Miranda

She’s easily the most curious about Lady Beneviento, her silence, the heavy air surrounding her

And- again, following her mother’s example- she is easily the most disgusted by Lord Salvatore, even as she does not dare show it

And then, lastly, there is Mother Miranda

She certainly is curious about the woman, in utter awe of her grace and authority

Often, she wishes the woman would pay more mind to her

She so desperately wants to prove herself to her, too, after all

Perhaps, if she continues being on her best behaviour during the meetings…

Cassandra

It’s rare she joins Alcina during meetings, having done so only three to six times in her life

She just doesn’t see the appeal of it, really

Sitting in those chairs, watching the Lords converse and talk of things she couldn’t care about in the slightest..

Not only does it bore her, but she also finds herself getting easily annoyed at not getting to join in and speak, something both Alcina and Bela forbid her from doing

Instead, she usually stays behind all too eagerly, making use of the lack of her mother’s presence when she is off to the meetings

Often, this means more maidens killed than usual, more messes made in the dungeon area, and more things to drive particularly Bela insane with

When her sister too is off at a meeting, Cassandra likes to annoy her little sister in particular, claiming with Bela gone she is in charge now

As such, she often giggles hours later when she is scolded by their mother for making Daniela clean up her messes. Oftentimes she too earns an annoyed snarl from Bela when she teases “it’s that easy. I don’t know why you’re always complaining!”

During the rare times she has been at a Lord’s meeting, Cassandra is- restless, let’s say

She fidgets with her dress and bites at her lip, unsure what to do, bored out of her mind

Her fingers would twitch, overcome with the desire to do something- anything!

For this reason especially she loved the times she was brought mainly to be shown off, when she would get to easily not only defeat, but utterly destroy a pack of Lycans in front of the Lords

She particularly enjoyed seeing Mother Miranda’s pleased expression and hearing Heisenberg’s annoyed grunt

Of course, for this alone, Mother would always praise her after

She doesn’t like being shown off, has always tried to be one to not care for the opinion of others

Still, she found herself holding her head a little higher after Mother Miranda praised mainly her during the three meetings she did attend, easily picking up on her strength and abilities

She cares little for the other Lords, often having to fight the urge to scrunch up her face when in close proximity to Lord Salvatore or the doll Angie in particular- not that she has ever been quite good at that, or subtlety as a whole

Just another reason she ought not attend the meetings…

Daniela

Daniela loves the Lords meetings!

She likes any excuse to get out the castle, really

But the meetings? They’re her favourite!

The first time she is to attend one she’s painfully curious, and nervous

She sticks to her mother and sisters’ sides, often hiding behind them until she becomes a little more comfortable

Much unlike her sister, Daniela loves being shown off!

What she liked less, however, is how her sisters seemed to get most of the attention

Left grumbling and hiding by her mother’s side, her bottom lip wobbling a little against her dress, she was left to listen to why they were so great

The second time it was hardly any different, which led her to dislike being present a fair amount

Still, she still keeps on begging her mother to take her with her, desperate to prove herself and make an impression, too, just like Bela and Cassandra have!

But, unlike her eldest sister, Daniela could not remain as controlled, which Alcina is fully aware of

She’d merely whine when bored, try to distract herself by playing with a lycan, talk out of turn or try to swarm away, which Alcina knows especially Mother Miranda would not stand for

As such, with a heavy heart, she always denies her precious daughter’s hopeful request to let her come with her- just once!- too

Ah, but she’s so curious!

So curious about the Lords! About the world outside of the castle! She so rarely gets out, isn’t allowed past the village and the castle border. She can barely remember how the inside of the chapel the Lords meet at looks!

She is, of course, the most curious of Lady Beneviento

Not even Mother could tell her much about her, whereas she knows plenty of Heisenberg and even a fair amount of Moreau Salvatore

Alas, the last time she was at a meeting Alcina had to nudge her head to the side carefully multiple times, noticing the Lord shift uncomfortably with Daniela’s curious eyes nearly constantly on her

As if to make up for not letting her join her, Alcina does often end up indulging Daniela by telling her roughly of the meeting

Usually she finds her youngest by the entrance hall already, her hands and face pressed against the glass of one of the nearby windows

Her eyes so wide, curious, a hundred questions sitting just at the tip of her tongue

The moment the door would open? She’d swarm towards her, giggling and asking every little question on her mind

Usually, not quite the type she might expect from others

“Was Mother Miranda there?”

“Did it snow?”

“Did you see horses?”

“I missed you mama!”

“Cassandra stole took my books!”

It only ever makes the mother of three smile fondly

[esstrellaa123]

It started with a brush. Just a touch, fabric on skin. But you were hooked. In your sleep, while you were awake. You searched for it everywhere.

It annoyed you most days. You hated waiting for things, seeking them out, not having them right by your side. But you guess you couldn’t do that when they were human. Not some pet you could cage or leash and keep next to you.

You had to chase. This one evaded quickly, always ducking someplace— out of your grasp. You hated it. Fire burned within your chest every time you thought about it. God, it wasn’t fair. Not fair in the slightest that you couldn’t have what you wanted. It wasn’t fair that what you wanted didn’t want you— your affections and the sweet words you could offer to make them stay. Simply not fair at all.

You could call unto his name, make your presence known, but that always seemed to drive him away. Like your voice vocalizing his name was a natural repellent.

The only way past this was was concealment. But even hiding from this shifty bastard himself was a difficult feat. He seemed to always be acutely aware of you, your position, your intentions. Wasn’t fair the way he seemed to scent you out in a crowd or in a shadowed room. You could only get close when he allowed. And it wasn’t often. Not often at all.

But you craved him, his touch, his smell, his stupid jokes that were never told to you but to a group. Never you specifically. He knew the horrors that might entail. You, thinking you had some kind of standing in his life. You, thinking he enjoyed your company. You, thinking he was your safe place.

If anything, he was the opposite of safe. Dangerous, unpredictable, unstable. Everything you thought he wasn’t. He was a conglomeration of everything you didn’t need. Everything your dreams never entailed. He collided with craters for fucks sake, how would he keep you safe if he couldn’t keep himself safe?

But you never stopped seeking him out. Seeking the approval he wouldn’t give you, the soft touch he never had, the sweet intentions he never thought of.

He was not a sweet man. Not in the slightest. He didn’t know what you found so fascinating about him. He was just another soldier but decked out with a fancy name that instilled fear into the people who knew what it entailed.

But even when you saw him at his worst you stuck around, not questioning, not prying, but there. A silent constant. That much he couldn’t deny.

He wouldn’t admit it aloud, or deny it, but you were everything he needed. Exactly what his dreams entailed, the soft touch that would melt him, the sweet intentions he knew you thought about him.

It scared him. More than any horror he’s faced on the battlefield. It’s why he stayed away after that simple brush— it wasn’t simple to him, not in the slightest. It had turned his world upside down, violently shaking him alive. Sent a thrumming through his spine, made him want to act right.

He wasn’t worthy of it however. Your love, touch, voice, was something to be held on a pedestal. Only the best should be allowed access to something so precious. So rare.

He was not the best. Not the best in the way you needed. Not emotionally, physically, even mentally. He was a wounded soldier when you needed a white knight to save you.

He worked in the shadows when you needed sunlight. He would be the rain on your parade, the fiery coals beneath your tender feet. He was a cloak of pain, misery, anguish.

But fuck, you loved the rain and you were tired of the abundance of light constantly blinding you. The sun was getting too bright, causing a drought in your heart. You needed nothing more than the rain right now.

You needed him.

Your opposite, your oxymoron, your nighttime. You loved the stars, the brightly scattered freckles peppering the sky. The moon, your Luna. You loved her more than your sun. Even if her light shined as a reflection of the sun. She was less to your more. Enough light to help you find your way instead of blinding you totally, small in stature but slotting perfectly between earth and beyond this plane.

Totality, eclipses. Him— the partiality needed for your totality. The two of you together, a force to be reckoned with. Even the water of the too big earth surrender to you both, offering their assistance each time you two pulled. Submissive when the sun and moon called.

A cycle.

You, bright enough, hot enough to lift him from the depths of the self made oceans. He, heavy enough to bring you back down and to your senses.

Two sides of the same coin, each facing away and forever cursed not to see the other.

Being in the sky alone must be lonely. Lighting up every day must be exhausting. Drying out the things you love must be horrifying, burning everything you touch with such intensity disguised as love must haunt you.

Being a reflection of the things you love must haunt as well, hiding in the shadows must be just as lonely. Being there when people cry and cry and cry themselves to sleep has to be exhausting. It must burn him too to always be the last option. Everything in his wake is silent. Ask the owls, they know.

Silent feathers, talons made to kill, mimic ears that breed deception.

“Simon.” You’ll say when you come to that conclusion.

He’ll answer of course, knowing nothing more than to serve you. To cater to your every whim.

Cool moons will meet the blaze of your own gaze, bearing their own intensity even if only a reflection of yours. But your eyes are clouded, shrouded in mist while his will twinkle, peppered with those scattered freckles people call stars.

He can hide, but not before being exposed by your light. Shadows will only stand for so long with a heavy sun weighing on them.

He can evade you at your every rising, but you two must cross paths at some point. People mark these dates on their calendars, speaking of it as if it’s a spectacle to behold. Though, in reality, it’s a tale as old as time. Two friends, rumored lovers, crossing paths. Covering each others back in a desperate attempt to watch the others back to keep the other shining.

You’ll always find the other in the next life, with each dawn of a new era and the ending dusk of invention. Enough for one lifetime.

You’ll tuck deep into his side, using him as your shield from the prying eyes of spectators. He’ll shield you, letting you rest, retire from lighting up each day. He knows you need it.

He won’t see that it’s him that you need, that you come to him every time in need, but he’ll take what he can get. He won’t go far as to delude himself. He knows better than to.

Why would the sun ever need a moon?

🌅🌃

[bogkeep]

oh my god it's so nice to have a text post getting Fun and Good tags for once... yes Do tell me more about your feelings and favourite examples of the royalty trope/genre.......

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[ahollowgrave]

"Gotcha!" 📷

[vaguely-concerned]

powerful mental image of lucanis expounding passionately about any given one of his limited but extremely deep areas of interest (the wyvern/knives/coffee/cooking/murder continuum of lucanis dellamorte special interests if you will) while rye lounges around and Beholds him with palpable twink boutta pounce energy

[cementcornfield]

[Zac] was just trying to tell me to be happy with the win, and I appreciate that about him. Because I can get lost in, just like everybody can, you get lost in the adversity of the season. You can't take winning for granted and I've tried to get better at that.

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [THINGS THEY SAY DURING 'IT'] ¡! ❞ @ - Part 1.

TW: MDNI - NSFW, sexual themes obviously lol

SUMMARY: Title :)

CHARACTERS: Aether Albedo Al-Haitham Ayato Baizhu Capitano Childe Cyno Dainsleif Diluc Dottore Freminet & Gorou x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.044

A/N: idk just a random new idea, watch me get more and more unserious with every character you pass

Aether

❝Agh-...shit...❞ - he holds back his sounds as he moans and curses into his hand

❝ Mh-no, like that, yeah...move like that...good❞ - he bites his lip as his lust drowned eyes stare up at you, holding your thighs tight for stability

❝Slower?...okay❞ - speeds up with a slight laugh, stopping seconds later to slow down again

Albedo

❝This spot? Yeah?...knew it...❞ - it's rare for you to see him smug, but that smirk he will give you when he finds out his guess was right is something else

❝Hold still for me...yes?❞ - he pushes your thighs apart, settling down comfortably between them as he dives in

❝Some interesting sounds you make...❞ - and he will carve them into his mind. When you're away he will remember them, will miss them, miss you and everything about you

Al-Haitham

❝Keep quite...❞ - there's no harshness in his words, just slight desperation as he breaths those words in your ear as he fucks you on the couch in his shared house with Kaveh, while he is asleep in his room

❝Tell me what you want...come on, you can do it. Speak up.❞ - sometimes the way he talks to you is infuriating, like he's talking to a stupid child. It not only embarrasses you when he speaks so teasingly, it makes you angry, frustrated, and maybe a bit turned on

❝If you can't watch your hands i won't watch my teeth.❞ - you tugged on his precious hair, so he can't help but tease you even more as he eats you out

Ayato

❝Mmm...yeah...❞ - he's rather quite, Ayato hums more, right in your ear with such a disgusting smirk because he knows any sound he does will drive you wild

❝Don't overestimate yourself, hm?❞ - he always says the same as you sink down on him. He knows exactly that his tip just puts too much pressure on your cervix. He might tease you, but he doesn't want to hurt you

❝I got you...don't worry, i got you...❞ - while you come down from your high...did he came himself? No, but it's okay. You're his number 1 priority

Baizhu

❝So...warm...❞ - no matter how many times you two have sex, your warmth will always overwhelm him

❝Shh...you don't know who might come in.❞ - he doesn't take many risks but god he can't hold himself back when you help him out in Bubu Pharmacy

❝I'll take care of it...don't worry.❞ - look, he's a doctor, a people pleaser and helper, ofc he only takes care of you and not of himself

Capitano

❝Take it slow, theres no rush.❞ - says the big guy with the prettiest cock and he doesn't even know it

❝Do you need a break? No?...heh...alright then...❞ - proceeds to rearrange your guts

❝What did i tell you?❞ - he means please, tell him please, ask nicely with manners like he taught you

Childe

❝Naww, someones needy huh? It went riiight in, with no problem.❞ - I bet you can practically hear and see the smug look on this abominations face

❝Look baby i don't wanna hurt you, yeah? You need to tell me when i go too hard.❞ - just a little nice check in for him. He wants to make sure you know you are always free to tell him off, he doesn't want to force himself on and in you

❝Good? Hah-ah-...yeah...thought so...❞ - sometimes the smugness will flatter, especially once he's close...you don't know who enjoys it more, him or you

Cyno

❝You hear that?...Thats you...❞ - he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and fast, changing pace. But no matter how fast or slow, he absolutely loves when you're as wet as you can get

❝Are you certain that you really want th-! Ouch why'd you slap me-❞ - he always asks the same, over and over again, it's nice that he keeps asking for your consent but at this point it annoys you like...bro you already been between my legs for like 30mins I had enough time thinking about it

❝Where?...ah-quick tell me-❞ - whenever he doesn't wear a condom and realistically...I don't think condoms exist in genshin lol

Dainsleif

❝So desperate...it's almost cute.❞ - he knows it's basically a long distance relationship considering he's almost never there. That's what makes it even "better" for him when you two see each other. He can't help but tease

❝Calm down, we're not in a rush.❞ - basically the first, same vibe, call me lazy lol

❝Still...gh-taking it so well...❞ - uhhh yeah we have a theme here

Diluc

❝You look cold...i could warm you up...❞ - sometimes him being smooth works, sometimes not, and sometimes he just sounds like a cheaper version of himself (Batman)...or sometimes he does what Kaeya says-

❝Where's the 'please'?❞ - he's so well mannered it's scary, so he expects the same for you too. Say please and thank you

❝Maybe if you would've behaved like I told you to, we wouldn't be here right now.❞ - he says it so calm as he fucks you against the cold stone wall behind Angels share in the middle of the night where any drunken idiot could see...or the patrols...that are very much sober (hopefully???)

Dottore

❝Hm? This? Oh, thats just for documentation.❞ - he records your voice...he literally studies your reactions and change in voice.

❝I won't tell you again, hold still.❞ - he isn't scared of tying you up at all so either hold still or be held still

❝...hm...you're too quite...❞ - he literally wants the Tsaritsa to hear like???

Freminet

❝Ngh-h-hey-calm down or else-!❞ - WE LOBE SUB BOYS, I WANNA HEAR YOU SCREAM, WE LOVE SUB BOYS

❝This is...new...yeah...❞ - he's a explorer but he also wants to be explored sksksksksk

❝So-warm-!❞ - uhm...self explanatory. When he enters you it's warm lol

Gorou

❝Wdym I'm in heat AGAIN?!❞ - he can't help but not be horny like?? Have you seen yourself??

❝Agh-...i tried to br gentle but you just-❞ - no self control, smh

❝Right there? See...told you i won't forget.❞ - he's eating you out, and still remembers your most sensitive spots like it's craved in his mind...because it is

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, looking up skirt, panty stealing + sniffing + licking, masturbation, professional misconduct, 18+ minors dni.

pervy electrician!toji who unintentionally shows up a little earlier at your house than he was supposed to and is rewarded with the sight of a very unprepared you hurriedly rushing to answer the door in just a baggy t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy socks.

pervy electrician!toji whose usual disinterested expression he has permanently plastered upon his features during work hours morphs into one of subtle interest as his dark eyes leisurely drag up and down your figure — and damn, he never gets sent out to clients as hot as you.

pervy electrician!toji who greets you with a simple nod as he brushes past you to get inside, his scarred lips involuntarily twitching up into an amused half-smile at how you ramble out several apologies for not being ready for his arrival.

pervy electrician!toji who casually waves it off and assures you that he doesn't mind; and he definitely doesn't mind when it means that he gets to watch you walk around in front of him wearing that shirt that barely even covers your ass.

pervy electrician!toji who is as well-mannered as he has to be when conversing with a customer, but makes sure to inject a little more charm into his voice just for you as he drawls out "well, what seems to be the problem, ma'am?"

pervy electrician!toji who silently pats himself on the back when he notices you grow slightly flustered at the polite term he used to address you by, leaning against your kitchen counter as he watches you explain the issues you've had with your power frequently cutting out lately.

pervy electrician!toji who has to make a concerted effort to bite back a scoff when you explain that despite being married, your useless husband has no idea how to fix the problem himself so you had no choice but to resort to calling his company.

pervy electrician!toji who can hardly even comprehend that your sorry excuse for a husband just went to work for the day and left a precious thing like you here with no power; some fools really don't know how good they have it, do they?

pervy electrician!toji who finds a rare, genuine smile pulling at his lips when you joke lightly that you'd make him a cup of coffee if there was any power for the kettle. so you're pretty as hell and you have a good sense of humour... oh, he's in trouble.

pervy electrician!toji who investigates the fuse box located at the back of the cupboard under the kitchen sink while you dash upstairs to change into something more appropriate, humming a quiet tune under his breath while he works.

pervy electrician!toji who figures out what the issue is in no time at all — there's a small leak dripping from the pipe leading from the bottom of the sink that has trickled down and fried some of the wiring; shouldn't be too hard to fix.

but for some reason, he finds himself wanting to create a reason for him to stay around here just a little longer.

so, pervy electrician!toji 'accidentally' makes the leak even worse by using the spanner on his tool belt to stretch the hole in the pipe slightly wider, causing any working part left in the fuse box to fizzle out into uselessness as a result.

pervy electrician!toji who has to pretend to be inconvenienced by the problem that he just worsened once you return to the kitchen, scratching the side of his jaw and telling you that it'll take him atleast a couple of hours to try and salvage the fuse box.

pervy electrician!toji who isn't exactly lying when he says this; just refraining from telling you the whole truth that there is no way to fix the ruined thing now. the entire box has to be replaced and he doesn't happen to have a new one with him today.

...looks like he'll just have to come back tomorrow, too.

pervy electrician!toji who keeps himself busy pretending to attempt to mend things under the cupboard, but finds it quite hard not to be distracted by your pretty self sitting atop the counter where you insisted on staying to keep him company while he works.

but, at the end of the day, pervy electrician!toji is a man, after all — a man who can't help himself from sneaking a quick peek up the edge of the skirt you changed into, holding back a groan when he catches a small glimpse of your patterned panties.

pervy electrician!toji who claims he needs to use your bathroom a little while later, making sure you don't follow him up the stairs before sneaking through the hall until he finds you and your husband's shared bedroom.

pervy electrician!toji who finds himself rifling through his client's underwear drawer like a damn horny teenager, hastily pulling out a pair of cute panties similar the ones he knows you're wearing downstairs right now.

pervy electrician!toji who is way too worked up to feel any sense of shame as he pushes his baggy work trousers down, exposing the extremely noticeable tent and subsequent wet patch staining the front of his boxers.

"fuckin' hell," pervy electrician!toji rasps as he shoves a hand into his boxers, wrapping it around the base of his painfully throbbing cock as he begins languidly stroking himself. "driving me crazy here, girl." he mutters to himself.

pervy electrician!toji who can't stop himself from holding your panties up to his face, cursing under his breath when he remembers that these are a clean pair from your drawer. no — he needs a used pair if he wants to be able to properly get off.

pervy electrician!toji who sifts through your laundry hamper like a starving man searching for scraps of food in a dumpster, his movements fuelled by the sheer need to release the overwhelming desire coursing through his veins.

pervy electrician!toji whose scarred lips twitch up into a victorious smirk when he finally finds a dirty pair of your panties, wasting no time in pressing his nose against the slick-stained crotch and inhaling your scent. and fuck, is it an intoxicating smell.

pervy electrician!toji who is utterly pussydrunk without even being near your actual cunt, tongue instinctively flicking out on its own to lap lightly at the soiled material, a pornographic moan falling from his lips afterwards.

"shit. tastes s-so sweet, heh." pervy electrician!toji grunts as he resumes those earnest tugs of his furiously hard cock, his sloppy mouth just coating your dirty panties with his glistening salvia.

pervy electrician!toji who is cumming in record time like a downright pathetic and touch-starved virgin, one press of his thick thumb against his weeping tip causing it to spill rope after rope of milky release into his boxers.

pervy electrician!toji who does actually go to the bathroom after he's pulled his trousers up and shoved both pairs of stolen panties into his pockets, cleaning himself up as best he can and checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure he doesn't look too wrecked.

pervy electrician!toji who saunters downstairs and faces you with an easy smile as if he didn't just jerk off with your used underwear pressed against his mouth, sharing the news that he'll 'unfortunately' have to return tomorrow to replace the broken fuse box.

pervy electrician!toji who tells you his usual bill for the basic work he's done today, although secretly gives you a considerable discount — one because it's you, and two because he didn't actually do anything to fix your power issue and instead deliberately made it worse so he could stay longer.

pervy electrician!toji who releases an amused chuckle when you frantically dart around the house in search of your purse, coming to the sheepish conclusion that you must've left it in your husband's car that he drove to work this morning with.

pervy electrician!toji who simply shrugs and suggests that you pay him when he comes by tomorrow instead. little do you know, however, that you've already paid him... just in the form of an orgasm and two pairs of panties instead of money.

pervy electrician!toji who is counting down the seconds until he can see you again as he drives home in the company van, body relaxed and sated from his previous climax and pockets stuffed pleasantly full with stolen underwear.

he'd say that was all in good day's work.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy lifeguard!gojo <- PREVIOUS PART.

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[reignpage]

“Y’r a real clumsy pain in the ass, ya know that?” Toji’s making tsk sounds every time he finds a new scrape to clean up. It’s funny to see him look so concentrated – his brows are furrowed, he’s gripping your limbs firmly but gently, careful of his finger placements, and prodding here and there, determining if you need to go to the hospital. “Why’dya even think it was a good idea to go skateboarding? Fuck do you know about that?”

Ah, man. He’s really pissed. He rarely ever gets worked up like this. Sure, he gets annoyed or irritated – the man has the patience of a child, after all – but there’s a frantic quality to his movements, a hesitation before he applies the alcohol on your wounds, and a telltale dart of his eyes at your face after, searching for a wince or a flinch. 

Your thumb flies up, smoothing that wrinkle between his eyebrows. “If you get any more tense, you’ll blow a fuse, Toji.”

He grabs your wrist tight, scoffs, and then lays a frustrated kiss on the inside. 

“Whose goddamn fault is that? Fucking losing my mind here ‘cause you can’t be trusted to act like an adult. Turn my back for one shitty second and then y'r all crumpled up on the concrete, crying like a baby. Was worried you’d lose all your blood.”

The kitchen counter is cold beneath your legs and he must notice because a heavy hand of his rubs some warmth on one of your thighs, squeezing for comfort. 

Sheepish, you mumble an apology. 

“Sorry?” He’s flabbergasted in a way you've never seen him be. You almost want to laugh. “Don’t make that face. None of this is funny, ya damn brat.”

"It looked easy online! Everyone's doing it."

He makes an unamused sound. "If they tell you to jump, would ya?"

"Yeah, probably."

Not finding that funny in the slightest, he shoots you a glare. "Y'r a comedian now, are ya? And what? Y’r body's the punch line, that it? You just gonna throw it around everywhere without a single care in the world?"

Still feeling defensive, you pout. "Yeah, if I want. It's my body."

"No." His fist slams on the counter. The vibrations rattle your bones. "It's my body. It's the body of the woman I love. The body I feed, I hold at night, the body I need with me. My woman, my body. So, dammit, take care of it, will ya?"

Your eyes are rolling before you can help yourself. "You're being dramatic."

“Look at me.” He pinches your chin. There’s a silencing sincerity in his eyes. It’s serious, frenzied, pleading. It steals your breath, forcing you to the present and washing away that veil of courage you blanketed yourself under. The sting of all your wounds come to you like a wave, sweeping you under. Your injuries must have been worse than you first realised. “You can make light of this all you want, but you didn’t see what I saw. Didn’t hear what I heard – fuck, baby. You were crying. I ain’t never hear you sound like that before. And I don’t want to again. It broke my fucking heart.”

Jaw clenching, he eyes you all over, shaking his head. He still can’t believe this happened — scrapes like these aren’t meant for women, especially not his brilliant girl, who smiles too often and loves too much. His precious girl.

Every day, he worries over how hard he squeezes you in a hug, how much weight he’s putting on you when you cuddle, and how fast he moves when you’re around. This is the body he worships day in and day out and just like that, he’s reminded once again of how easily he could lose it all. How easily he could lose you.

Toji’s head falls onto your lap. His arms wrap around your hips. From your view, he looks somewhat like a child. He kisses your thigh, inhales deeply, and burrows his face tighter against you as if reminding himself you’re here and you’re okay and he’s not letting this happen again. 

“I’m sorry, Toji. Really.”

He scoffs again. God, he needs to stop doing that. “Yeah, you will be. ‘Cause I’m tying y’r uncoordinated ass to me. So if you wanna go down, y’r taking me with ya.”

“Deal.”

[whenstarsundress]

🎀 protective to a fault: sylus walks slightly in front of you out of habit. it’s subtle but intentional. he’s always scanning your surroundings, even when you’re just going for coffee. his calm presence hides a constant edge of alertness.

🎀 not big on words, big on actions: he’s not the type to say “i love you” every hour, but he shows it constantly. he’ll fix things without asking, hand you your favorite drink silently and pull you into his coat when you’re cold.

🎀 gentle with you, rough with the world: no matter how sharp he is with others, his voice goes soft when he talks to you. low and quiet like you’re something breakable, but only in the most precious way.

🎀 he needs physical closeness: you’ll find him silently leaning his forehead against yours when he’s overwhelmed. he might not talk, but he’ll hold your hand, link pinkies under the table or press his chest to your back while you sleep.

🎀 rare smiles for you: he doesn’t laugh often, but when he does? it’s soft and husky and wrecks you. he looks younger, freer. he always tries to hide it with a head tilt or a cough. but you see it and you melt.

🎀 keeps something of yours on him: a hair tie around his wrist. a note you left in his pocket. he never talks about it, but he always has some little part of you close. it grounds him.

🎀 when he calls you ‘angel’: it’s rare and sacred. he’ll murmur it into your hair when you’re half asleep, or when he’s holding you after a nightmare. it’s his most vulnerable endearment and his way of saying, you saved me.

🎀 the voice drops an octave: when he wants you, his voice gets dark and low. he’ll murmur things in your ear in that deadly calm tone. stuff that makes your knees weak and your core clench. and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

🎀 “say it again.”: sylus loves when you praise him, especially in bed. say he’s good, say he’s yours, say he feels perfect and he’ll growl “say it again” against your neck like a command. you’ll be trembling before he even moves.

🎀 possessive but controlled: he’ll leave bruises on your hips, his marks on your throat. but he does it all while holding your gaze, whispering “you’re mine” in a way that’s more vow than threat.

🎀 always in control, until he’s not: he tries to stay composed. but you? you ruin him. the way you moan his name, the look you give him when you beg, he’ll snap, pin you down and wreck you until you’re limp and glowing.

🎀 he’s lowkey kinky but classy about it: bondage, control, whispered orders. he’s into it. but it’s always respectful. never degrading. he makes you want to obey, makes you crave being good for him. and when you are? he rewards you like royalty.

🎀 post-sex worship: he goes soft after and kisses every inch of you. holds you like you’re something holy. rubs your thighs gently, brushes your hair back, “you okay, angel?” like you didn’t just see god.

[pin-k-ink]

OFF THE RECORD ⋆✦⋆ gojo satoru

synopsis ➸ you know gojo too well to believe he’s here for a quick fuck. he’s here for a favor—one you have no intention of granting. too bad he’s never been good at taking no for an answer.

tags ➸ implied former student/teacher relationship, slight age gap, friends with benefits, possessive behavior, mild dom/sub themes, power play, manipulation, daddy kink, mild objectification, dirty talking, semi-public/public sex, mention of past sexual encounters, implied blackmail (it’s really not as bad as you think)

wc ➸ 10.9k

The steamy tendrils still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the shower, toweling off with a contented sigh. Mornings like this—quiet, peaceful routines before diving headfirst into the chaotic world of jujutsu—were increasingly rare these days. So you tried to savor each precious moment while it lasted.

With the towel secured around your body, you padded toward the bedroom to get dressed for yet another long day at headquarters. However, the second you stepped over the threshold, the hairs along your nape instantly prickled upright. A presence. An unmistakable shift in the air currents that could only mean—

"Well, good morning, gorgeous! Sleep well?"

You barely stifled the startled yelp as Gojo Satoru's cheerful baritone seemed to resonate from directly behind you. Whirling around, sure enough, there he was—all towering height, shredded muscle, and bright eyes glinting with clear amusement. How someone so powerful could also be so utterly shameless sometimes, you'd never know.

Doing your best to ignore the heat flooding your cheeks, you planted your hands on your hips in a stern facsimile of composure. "Satoru...what an unexpected surprise. Here I thought teachers were supposed to set good examples about respecting boundaries, not traipsing into former students' homes unannounced."

Rather than appear even remotely chagrined, Gojo simply chuckled and leaned back against your kitchen counter as if he owned the place. You watched in mild annoyance as his gaze slowly trailed up and down your towel-clad figure with undisguised appreciation.

"Hey now, no need for such icy formalities between us old friends," he chided, the barest hints of a smirk tugging at those infuriatingly full lips. "Besides, when have I ever cared about doing what's expected of me, hm? That's like...95% of my appeal, babe."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a resigned sigh and crossed the room to your closet, firmly squelching the instincts that urged you to yank the towel higher and more securely over your body. Gojo had seen—and thoroughly enjoyed—far more of you than this in the past. No sense getting flustered over his blazing regard now.

"Right, so does this impromptu visit have an actual purpose?" You shot him a pointed look over your shoulder as you fished out a crisp blouse and trousers to wear to HQ. "Or are you just being a pain as usual and raiding my fridge for a sugar fix again?"

You heard Gojo's low snort of amusement before his heavy footfalls sounded, clearly bringing him closer despite your protestations. "What can I say? Your kitchen is better stocked with sweets than most convenience stores. I can't help craving a little nibble now and then..."

The sultry undercurrent in his tone triggered a fresh blaze of heat along your nape. You could practically feel the smoldering weight of Gojo's stare boring into your ass as you bent to rifle through your bottom dresser drawer.

"But you're onto something with that other theory as well," he continued in a lower, more contemplative register. All traces of levity seemed to evaporate as his presence loomed larger behind you. "I did actually come to ask a favor of my very favorite former pupil. An important one that I wouldn't bother you about if the stakes weren't so high."

Curiosity and trepidation warred within your chest at the unexpected gravity clouding Gojo's usually buoyant candor. You instinctively straightened, clutching your clothes to your chest as you slowly turned to face him once more.

And just like that, the heated tension seemed to ratchet up several palpable notches as your eyes met and held in the claustrophobic space. Gojo's sculptured features had taken on a severe, intense edge—all sharp angles and tightly leashed power that instantly siphoned the breath from your lungs.

Suddenly, his earlier "playful" flirting and teasing manner seemed less like an act and more like a fragile facade barely containing his true tempestuous nature. You swallowed hard against the liquid lick of thrilling trepidation skating down your spine as Gojo maintained that weighty, piercing stare for several moments longer.

"...Is everything okay?" You finally managed in a hushed murmur, scarcely recognizing your own voice under the abrupt spell of Gojo's domineering energy. "What could possibly have you riled up enough to ditch the flippant act?"

Rather than immediately answering, Gojo closed the remaining distance between you with two long, purposeful strides. You had to crane your head back slightly to maintain eye contact as his powerful silhouette utterly consumed your space—the scalding brand of his body heat and crisp, masculine scent enveloping you from all sides.

"Believe me, kitten...if I came here for anything even remotely fun or pleasure-oriented, you wouldn't need to ask," he rumbled at last, voice pitched low enough to instill a full-body shiver along your nerves.

One of Gojo's large hands came up, and you froze as the rough pads of his knuckles grazed a feather-light caress along the line of your jaw. His thumb swiped over the seam of your lower lip in an utterly artless, possessive sweep—smoldering gaze following the motion with incendiary focus.

"I'd already have that smart mouth wrapped around my cock doing something far more useful than talking..."

Despite the crudity of his words, you couldn't quite stifle the punched-out whimper that slipped free at the graphic implication. Gojo's pupils blew fractionally wider in answer, tongue darting out to lave his lower lip as if tasting the charged undercurrents now rippling between you.

"Lucky for you, this is actually about business," he continued in that same resonant timbre that seemed to spark straight between your thighs each time his rich cadence washed over you. "The kind of serious business that even a lazy pervert like me can't afford...distractions for at the moment, got it?"

You managed a jerky nod, too disoriented by the heady spiral of desire cloying at your senses to do much else. Gojo's expression seemed to tighten further—a muscle feathering in his chiseled jaw as if steeling himself for whatever came next as he stepped back a bit.

"Itadori Yuji is scheduled for execution..." The blunt statement punched out like a missile deployment, brutally shredding the increasingly rapacious atmosphere between you. "And one way or another, I need that sentence postponed before it's too late."

You immediately shook your head, mouth set in a grim line. "Postponing Itadori Yuji's execution? That's not going to happen, Satoru."

His brows pinched slightly at your blunt refusal. "This is serious, kitten. That kid is instrumental to—"

"Don't you think I know how serious this is?" you cut him off, firming your voice into an authoritative tone. "I work directly under the higher-ups, remember? I'm well aware of the situation with Sukuna’s vessel and the potential ramifications of his continued existence."

Squaring your shoulders, you leveled Gojo with an unwavering stare. "My answer is final. Bringing this to the elders would be pointless at best, and could potentially jeopardize my position if they see it as insubordination. I'm not sacrificing everything I've worked for just because you showed up and gave me those stupid puppy dog eyes."

Rather than back down, Gojo simply regarded you with a contemplative tilt of his head—bright gaze assessing as if turning over your words from every possible angle. You could practically see the gears turning behind those piercing blue irises as he recalibrated his approach.

"Okay, let's table the business side of things for now," he said at last, tone losing some of its previous urgency. Straightening his body, Gojo prowled a step closer—effectively reclaiming the charged atmosphere from earlier. "Maybe you just need some...persuading to see reason."

You refused to be baited so easily, keeping your expression coolly neutral even as his scalding presence flooded your personal space once more. "I'm not some hormonal teenager letting her heart sway business decisions anymore, Satoru. Those games won't work."

Gojo hummed softly in response, head cocking as his lips curved into a slow, molten smirk. "We'll see about that..."

Without warning, his hands clamped down on your hips, thumbs digging in with delicious friction as he hauled you flush against the solid wall of his torso. You couldn't withhold the tiny gasp that punched free at the sudden, searing contact—every ridge and cording muscle of Gojo's powerful physique branding itself against your towel-clad frame.

"Does this position feel...familiar to you at all, gorgeous?" he murmured in a honeyed rasp right against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed a path along your jaw as he dipped to mouth steamy, lingering kisses down the fragrant column of your throat. "Maybe sparks a few memories of the last time you found yourself pinned underneath me...crying out for more the whole night through?"

A shudder rippled down your spine at the crude allusion to your long-ago graduation celebration with Gojo. You remembered that encounter vividly—every slick rasp of skin against skin, the sweltering tangle of limbs, the exquisite ache of being split open on his thick cock over and over until the entire room reeked of your joined passion.

Gojo merely chuckled at your flustered squirming, nosing aside the collar of your towel to lave a heated path along your collarbone. "Mmm...that's right. There were points that night where I had my cock buried so fuckin' deep in this perfect pussy of yours that you could taste it on the back of your tongue with every breath."

You bit back a shuddering whimper at the crude imagery, willpower rapidly crumbling beneath his carnal onslaught. Despite your best efforts, the memories he so skillfully stoked were stoking liquid tendrils of arousal thrumming to life between your thighs. Gojo's grin stretched wider as you unconsciously arched into his scorching frame.

"Always did love ruining you on my dick that first time," he rumbled with blatant gratification against your heated skin. "Watching those gorgeous eyes glaze over while I split you open again and again until you passed out..."

Abruptly, Gojo detached his mouth from the thundering pulse at your jugular with one final lingering sweep of his sinful tongue. Smirking down at your glazed, panting expression, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But hey...while fun memories are nice, I'd rather make some new ones together after work," he said, suddenly all casual nonchalance once more as he meandered towards the door. "I'll pick you up from HQ when your shift is over and we can...discuss this Itadori thing some more in private. That sound good to you, babe?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to reassemble your scattered thoughts as the searing proximity of Gojo's presence withdrew—leaving you bereft and utterly unbalanced by the shift.

"Don't worry your pretty head over giving me an answer," Gojo called over his shoulder as he palmed the doorknob. "I already know you'll say yes when I remind you again how much that tight little pussy loves being split open on my—"

The door snapped shut with a hollow thud, cutting off the rest of his filthy promise. Though the last rakish wink he slanted your way before departing was more than enough to sear the implication deep into your psyche.

Sinking heavily back against the wall, you fought to regain your equilibrium—limbs quaking and breath escaping in ragged pants that did nothing to dissuade the rising tide of feverish arousal still gripping your core. Gojo had utterly unraveled you into a breathless, squirming mess from just a few suggestive caresses and searing endearments.

And despite your best efforts, you got the gnawing suspicion he'd made up his mind to thoroughly capitalize on—and ruthlessly extend—that molten state when you inevitably saw him again tonight.

The long hours crept by at an agonizing pace as you tried to focus on your duties at headquarters. But the memory of Gojo's heated presence that morning, his crude allusions to your long-ago passionate tryst, made it utterly impossible to concentrate.

You vividly recalled the way his powerful frame had caged you against the wall, face nuzzling along your flushed throat as that rich, smoky timbre painted filthy promises about thoroughly splitting you open again soon. Just the phantom whisper of Gojo's searing lips tracing your thundering pulse was enough to catalyze wild tremors of molten arousal deep in your core.

Each time you shifted in your seat or bent over the piles of paperwork, you could've sworn a delirious ache throbbed between your thighs—muscles fluttering with unbearable emptiness. Like they instinctively yearned to be stretched taut around the thick, punishing girth of Gojo's cock once more, just like that rapturous night of your graduation celebration.

The explicit images and flashes of sensation made concentrating an exercise in futility. Only your rigid adherence to professionalism and composure prevented you from squirming like an utter harlot right there in front of your subordinates.

By the time the evening hours finally rolled around, you felt strung as taut as a high wire—electrified nerves screaming for any sort of reprieve from Gojo's lingering psychic imprint. So you hastily packed your bags and paperwork, determined to slip out before he had a chance to accost you again.

However, the second you passed through the main entrance gates, a powerful hand shot out to clamp around your bicep in an authoritative grip. You barely contained the strangled gasp as Gojo's sheer masculine presence enveloped you, dragging you into the shadowed seclusion of a nearby alcove.

The cool stone bit into your back as he firmly levered your wrists overhead, utterly pinning you in place with his hulking silhouette. Gojo's piercing blue eyes glinted in the dim light, scorching a path down your disheveled figure with undisguised intent.

"Leaving so soon?" The deep, resonant timbre of his voice washed over you in smoky tendrils, already catalyzing a fresh blaze of arousal in your veins. "And here I was looking forward to picking up where we left off earlier..."

To emphasize his point, Gojo surged forward until every inch of his powerful frame molded against yours in a delicious, searing brand. You whimpered softly as his weight pinned you fully, feeling the unmistakable rigid line of his erection notching against your lower belly.

Gojo ducked his head with a low rumble of approval, searing lips and tongue mapping a scorching path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. You instinctively tilted your head aside to grant him better access, shuddering helplessly as he indulged in long, openmouthed draughts of your scent and flushed skin.

"F-Fuck...Satoru, not here!" The words emerged in a reedy, breathless whine against your better judgment as his wicked mouth found that sensitive bundle of nerves just below your ear. You writhed beneath the slow torment with increasing desperation. "Anyone could catch us...this is crazy!"

Rather than immediately address your token protests, Gojo merely chuckled—the warm puffs of his amusement ghosting deliciously along your tingling nerves as he mouthed a stinging graze against your racing pulse. One of his large, calloused palms slid down to engulf your hip in a possessive squeeze, already kneading and grinding you in a slow simmer of friction.

"You say that like you've never been desperate enough to beg me to fuck you right here in these hallways before..." The low, sensually-charged growl shivered your bones down to the marrow. Gojo finally pulled back enough to cage your dazed features fully within his piercing stare—lips curved in a lascivious smirk of fond reminiscence. "Multiple times, if I'm recalling correctly."

Heat flared through your cheeks as the graphic imagery took shape against your fraying resistance—lurid memories of breathless encounters where the thrill of potentially being caught by patrolling sentries only fueled the delirious flames higher. You swallowed hard against the thickness now cloying your throat, squirming in feeble denial.

Gojo's smirk deepened into something utterly sinful as he drank in your expression with clear relish. "Do you need me to refresh your memory about the last time you had me backed into a supply closet?" he rasped, leaning in until the blistering brand of his body seared you from chest to hip once more. "How hard you came when I finally pulled those thighs apart and licked straight through your soaked—"

"Enough!" you gasped out before he could fully unleash the damning words. You renewed your efforts at wriggling free in earnest, well aware your weakening restraint wouldn't last against Gojo's relentless carnal onslaught. "I-I...maybe we should actually go somewhere more appropriate first. Dinner, maybe?"

Despite your sudden meek suggestion, you couldn't quite mask the desperation laced through the plaintive request. Gojo's eyes seemed to glitter brighter at the shift in your demeanor, clearly scenting weakness in the offing as he allowed his grip to relax somewhat.

"Dinner first, huh?" He pursed those full lips into an exaggerated pout of contemplation before relenting with a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose that's only fair since I'm the one working up an appetite here..."

With one last blistering look that robbed you of breath entirely, Gojo stepped back and pivoted on his heel to swagger away down the narrow thoroughfare like a man supremely assured of victory. You could only sag back against the alcove wall, chest heaving with exertion as the towering remnants of arousal slowly ebbed.

However, there remained little doubt in your overwrought psyche that this temporary reprieve from your joining was little more than the universe's taunting cruelty. You'd awoken Gojo's darkest, most lascivious appetites earlier that morning.

And if the way he slanted one final look over his powerful shoulder—bright irises already blown wide and jaw clenching subtly around what had to be punishing levels of restraint—then the true feasting was only just about to begin in earnest. With your achingly empty body as the main course.

The opulent restaurant oozed sophistication from every polished surface and perfectly-starched linen. The sommelier's formal bow and crisp recitation of the evening's premier wine offerings seemed utterly wasted on the two of you.

You eyed Gojo over the rim of your glass, the dry Cabernet doing little to dull the lingering tension still thrumming between your joined frames. As always, he looked utterly nonplussed about the lavish indulgences surrounding you—crisp white dress shirt straining across his muscular torso and sharp jawline rasped by the beginnings of late evening stubble. Like a predator eternally at ease, regardless of situation.

Gojo's piercing gaze roamed over you with the same slow, assessing intensity one might reserve for an exquisite delicacy awaiting consumption. You tried not to squirm under that molten scrutiny, clearing your throat pointedly.

"I'm assuming there was some purpose behind corralling me into this place," you remarked in your best professional tone. "Beyond getting me liquored up for some inappropriate table exhibition, that is."

Rather than rebuff your dig, Gojo simply angled his head in a catlike tilt—lips curling into a devilish smirk that telegraphed his carnal interest crystal clear. Leaning further back in his chair, he allowed one broad palm to splay suggestively over the crisp linen covering his lap, fingertips drumming out an idle staccato.

"Well now, I certainly wouldn't say no to having those gorgeous lips wrapped around something else for a change." His deep timbre emerged laced with sin and smoky insinuation. "You always did look like an utter vision stuffed under these fancy tabletops sucking me off..."

Heat blossomed across your cheeks despite your best efforts at composure. You knocked back another bracing swallow of wine, struggling not to dwell on the searing flashes his words evoked—memories of delirious encounters where Gojo had hauled you under secluded tables to properly appreciate your skills with relentless, undisguised gratification.

Swallowing thickly, you gripped your fork with slightly more force than necessary."I'd ask if you're always this disgracefully crass and lascivious in public these days...but then I remembered who I'm talking to," you said dryly. "So in the interest of not causing a scene, why don't we get to the point of this little ambush?"

One brow arched infinitesimally as Gojo cocked his head further, clearly drinking in your prim and vaguely irritated state with evident relish. "You seem awfully anxious to rush right to business," he murmured, fingertips continuing their idle rhythm against the tablecloth. "Where's that simmering self-restraint and haughty composure I remember enjoying unraveling piece...by...delicious...piece so thoroughly back in the day?"

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, only for Gojo to cut you off with a low, lush rumble. "Unless you've simply decided being insatiably thirsty for this cock is more your speed these days..."

With that quiet taunt, his free hand disappeared beneath the pristine linen swathe in a heavy, meaningful descent. You swallowed convulsively as his fingertips slid along the unmistakable ridge of his thick cock straining against the unforgiving fabric of his slacks. Every knuckle undulated in a deliberate, stroking glide that tightened your throat like a vise around trapped breaths and unspoken pleas.

"Can practically already taste how soaked you're getting beneath those prim layers just from the thought alone..." Gojo continued in a molten rasp heavy with undisguised gratification. "Imagining that filthy little mouth stretched wide around my girth again, glazing yourself in my cum right here in front of god and all these polite company..."

A tiny, reedy sound slipped unbidden from your constricted chest despite your best efforts at locking it down. Gojo's lascivious smirk turned rapacious as he correctly scented the spike of liquid want now cloying the humid space between you.

"So what do you say, gorgeous?" He pitched his timbre slightly lower, allowing each gravelled syllable to curl around your senses with lashes of pure elemental sin. "Going to be a good little famished cocksleeve and give me a hand under the table before we get down to—"

You cut across his brazen soliloquy with a forceful rap of your fork against the tabletop. Pulling yourself together, you fixed Gojo with a severe glower that finally seemed to give him pause.

"If you can't conduct yourself with any semblance of decorum befitting your station, then I'm through entertaining these adolescent displays," you bit out in a hushed tone edged with adamant warning. "I'm not some wide-eyed underling fresh off the training fields anymore, Satoru. I have higher standing and responsibility than you seem to grasp."

Silence stretched between you for a weighted beat—Gojo's heated gaze flickering over you with renewed focus you couldn't quite decipher. When he finally spoke again, there was a note of uncharacteristic control underpinning his typically buoyant candor. Clearly, he'd grasped the need to change tactics once more.

"You're absolutely right," he said after a prolonged pause. "Part of me forgets just how much you've grown and ascended the ranks over the years." One side of his mouth curved higher in a lopsided ghost of his usual smirk. "Clearly earned the elders' respect and esteem far beyond that of a simple 'secretary' as I put it earlier."

Before you could retort, Gojo pressed onwards—hand sliding almost absently back into view to wrap around the stem of his wine flute. "Which is exactly why your assistance is pivotal to turning the tide regarding Yuji's current...perilous circumstances."

There was a grim finality in his words that snapped you back to the seriousness of the moment like a sobering slap to the face. You shifted fractionally taller in your seat, expression hardening as Gojo continued in low, adamant tones.

"Whether you're fully aware or care to admit it right now, that kid is destined to be pivotal for the upcoming events on the horizon," he rumbled with quiet conviction. "Leaving him to get executed off the books tomorrow morning would be tantamount to losing our most powerful asset before the real battles even begin."

Swirling his wine idly, Gojo paused to take an unhurried pull directly from the bottle before continuing. "Which is why I'm going to need to call in more than a few favors getting his sentence postponed tonight. Starting with you, of course..."

There was a new current of steely focus glinting in his gaze as it bored into you with ruthless intensity. For several protracted beats, you simply held each other's stares—gauging the lengths and motivations rumbling beneath the surface beyond petty physical exploits.

Finally, you pursed your lips and shook your head in a solemn negation. "I'm sorry, but I can't overstep protocol and abuse my influence with the elders like that," you stated, quietly adamant. "Not even for you, Satoru. The ramifications could unravel everything I've worked decades to attain if word got out I went rogue."

Rather than exploding in his usual flashes of arrogance or wounded pride, Gojo merely raked you with a glower of narrowed, simmering intent. His next words emerged more pointed and resonating than any innuendo or filthy endearment preceding it.

"Are you sure about that stance?" he intoned darkly. "Because if memory serves, there are a few distinct...indiscretions we've engaged in that could certainly be construed as 'unraveling' by the elders' view, wouldn't you agree?"

The waiter's polished footsteps faded as he departed to fetch their entrees, leaving you and Gojo in a weighted silence. You could practically taste the undercurrent of tension simmering in the air between you both.

Sipping his wine slowly, Gojo dragged his incandescent stare over your features with undisguised intensity. "I'm serious about this," he stated in a low, firm rumble that brooked no further evasion. "We're talking everything from inappropriate use of jujutsu techniques to conduct we both know crosses so many lines..."

He trailed off meaningfully, leaving the implications to hang heavy as his tongue slicked over his lower lip. You swallowed hard against the rising heat prickling across your cheeks and neck.

"Like that night in the east gardens behind the training halls," Gojo continued, voice dropping into a deeper, more intimate register that curled straight between your thighs. "Where I pinned you down in the grass and ate you out until you came all over my face. And then I fucked you so hard, you nearly passed out before we got caught."

Despite yourself, a tremulous shiver raked through your nerves as the visceral flashes assaulted your mind's eye—the frantic rasp of his calloused palms roaming and kneading, the slick motions of his tongue probing and savoring parts of you meant for far more intimate settings.

Gojo noticed your reaction with a dark chuckle, clearly satisfied he'd reeled you back in completely. "Or what about the time you wrapped those pretty lips around my cock in the maintenance closet and let me rail your throat until you choked on my load? How many rules was just that one encounter bending, hm?"

The directness of his words scorched through you with dizzying potency, making you flush and squirm. You parted your lips on a shaky exhale, determined to regain some semblance of control.

But Gojo smirked knowingly and pressed his verbal advantage in a low, filthy rumble. "Face it, I've got enough material on you ruining me with that greedy little mouth and pussy all over campus to get you defrocked hard." His hooded azure gaze practically seared into your core. "And yet you really wanna risk me airing all those dirty details to the elders? Leaving Itadori's fate to chance like that?"

Your mouth felt suddenly dry as you wrestled with the undeniable truth behind his taunting words. For several fraught beats, the frustration and righteous indignation warred with your embedded sense of duty to the cause. Finally, you released a shuddery breath and lifted your chin.

"I'll...see what I can do about swaying things in your favor," you muttered in a low, slightly strained tone. "No promises, but I'll try discussing options with the higher-ups."

Rather than seem appeased, Gojo's expression only hardened further—carved features settling into a granite mask of tenacious stubbornness and smoldering impatience. "'Not good enough, kitten," he rumbled, forearms tensing atop the table. "This mission is too fucking important for halfhearted measures. I need you to outright insist on a stay of execution being granted, got it? No more stammering 'I'll try' bullshit that lets them sidestep."

His unyielding stare pinned you with the intensity of a physical force, raising your hackles slightly despite your attempt at diplomacy. Still, looking into those blazing blue embers, you got the distinct impression that you'd sooner achieve moving a mountain with vocal commands than sway Gojo on this matter. That steely resolve would accept nothing less than complete victory in postponing Itadori's fate.

Just as you began resigning yourself to digging in for another round of heated back-and-forth across the fancy tablecloth, the arrival of the main courses mercifully broke the combative spell between you. Gojo seemed to settle back imperceptibly as the waiter swept in—that scorching intensity banking down to a more companionable smolder for the time being.

Still, you recognized the temporary reprieve for what it was as you tucked into your meal with far less gusto than anticipated. Despite his best efforts to gloss over the previous tension with idle banter and lighter conversational tones, it remained silently understood that the evening's main purpose still hung unresolved and delicate between you until matters were final.

So it was with an undercurrent of somber expectation that you finally settled the check and rose to follow Gojo from the opulent dining hall at evening's end. A subtle snap of his fingers triggered a curiously disorienting sensation of compression and vertigo—only to release you blinking in surprise mere heartbeats later, finding yourself suddenly standing in the familiar living quarters you called home.

"I'd say you're handling that little trick with far more aplomb these days," Gojo remarked with a lopsided grin, clearly drinking in your adjustment to his impromptu teleportation with amusement. "Remember when I first started zipping you around like that? Pretty sure you heaved your guts all over those ugly penny loafers you used to wear back in the day."

Huffing out a noise of semi-fond exasperation, you aimed a swat at his sculpted arm without malice. "Yes, well I suppose youth and naivety breed certain...overzealous behaviors, don't they?" you retorted before immediately sobering once more. "Like making reckless judgment calls that imperil an entire system..."

Gojo's expression remained impassive, giving no outward indication whether your choice of words struck any particular chord with him. However, you caught the faintest glimmer flickering behind those incandescent blue irises - the barest hint that perhaps you'd underestimated just how much gravitas your dissenting opinion potentially held with the higher-ups.

After all, you were Gojo Satoru's first and most distinguished pupil back when he initially ascended to teaching status, weren't you? Not only that, but your judicious control and prime mastery of your innate techniques embodied many of the fundamental philosophies and fighting styles the old guard so staunchly valued. On numerous occasions, your skills had been cited as quintessential examples to uphold for future generations...

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard as the weighty truth of your potential sway with leadership gradually bobbed to the surface of your consciousness like drift debris after a storm. This entire evening, Gojo might have simply been maneuvering to forcibly realign your perspective on leveraging the hidden influence you apparently wielded without ever fully grasping it.

To truly comprehend the magnitude of the gambit he intended to play using your standing as the key gambit.

Before you could properly parse that sobering epiphany, however, Gojo had already closed what little distance remained between your frames with purposeful strides. The blistering heat of his body all but blanketed yours as he leaned in with that familiar aura of prowling, casual intensity that always made your breath stall.

"So..." he murmured, voice pitching into a lower register that seemed to slither straight down your spine. "Does that mean you're gonna be a good girl and invite me inside so we can continue this intriguing conversation in more...comfortable accommodations?"

Gojo punctuated the brazen implication by cocking one arm against the doorframe, effectively caging you between the cool wood and the searing, masculine planes of his torso and hips. You were abruptly overwhelmed by the reality of his proximity - each subtly shifting ripple of sinew and musculature utterly inescapable from this range.

That distinctly virile, elemental musk that always set your senses clamoring was back in full force as well. You swallowed hard, nostrils flaring fractionally as the delirious essence of Gojo's body heat and clean, faintly spiced perspiration flooded your olfactory receptors. Despite your most ardent efforts, you felt your lids grow heavy and mouth part unconsciously as liquid frissons of pure, burgeoning temptation licked through your veins.

Just like that, with a few deftly aimed strokes, Gojo had reeled you back to the precipice of helpless surrender once more. Still, you summoned the dregs of your stern resolve and planted your palms squarely against his chest, levering back an inch to preserve some semblance of boundaries.

"Subtle as ever, I see," you managed in a tone you hoped came across more dryly exasperated than outright breathless. "I should've guessed the moment we arrived you'd be angling to make yourself at home uninvited."

One brow arched higher, though you didn't miss the slight crinkling at the corners of Gojo's stupidly pretty eyes betraying his hushed amusement. "Oof, someone has their defenses wound just a tad tightly if they think I require permission these days," he shot back with a wry rumble.

Before you could summon a retort, that leonine physique surged forward in a slow, sensual undulation—once again pinning you fully against the unyielding wooden slab with the scorching brand of his larger frame. Gojo's free hand drifted down to palm the generous curve of your hip with sinful insistence, hips canting forward until there could be no mistaking the ridge of his erection notching against your lower belly.

"Better question might be..." His voice dropped several delirious octaves into those sandpaper-rough timbres that seemed to sizzle straight through your nerve endings. "Why even bother pretending at token protests when we both know how this little dance is gonna end...?"

Those incandescent azure irises flickered down to where his fingertips were already stroking teasing swirls against the exposed strip of skin between your top and waistband, silently daring you to rebuff such an implicit capitulation.

"So why delay the inevitable any longer, gorgeous?" Gojo rumbled against your lips, voice dropping into that gravelly timbre designed to liquefy your restraint. "Let's get down to stripping off all these formalities once and for—"

"You haven't even kissed me yet today," you blurted out, cutting across his heated soliloquy.

Gojo's pale brows pinched infinitesimally as the words seemed to momentarily stall his single-minded determination. You could practically see the gears turning behind those hooded azure irises as he processed your statement—likely running back through every provocative encounter and instance of attempted seduction throughout the evening.

When his piercing stare finally snapped back to yours, there was the faintest glimmer of sheepish realization burning there. "...Huh. You're right," he remarked in a slightly lower, more subdued tone. "Here I've been working overtime to rile you up, and I haven't even had the balls to properly lay one on you yet."

You tried not to visibly preen under the gratifying acknowledgment, but couldn't quite suppress the tiny quirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. Sensing a rare window of opportunity, you shifted your weight more fully against the solid contours of Gojo's frame, allowing your fingers to trail upwards in delicate spirals.

"Well?" You arched one brow in playful challenge, throat bobbing on a swallow as your digits mapped higher along the tendons of his powerful neck. "Are you going to actually follow through, or am I going to have to take the initiative here?"

For one heated beat, Gojo simply held your pointed stare in taut suspension—the atmosphere between you both seeming to atomize down into charged ionization particles awaiting the slightest catalyst to detonate. Then, his lips curved higher in a lopsided smirk you'd come to recognize as pure, unrepentant recklessness sublimating into physical form.

"You're going to have to come and get it, gorgeous," he rumbled, the raspy undercurrents sending delicious frissons shivering along your nerves. "Show me just how badly you've been starving for a real taste all evening."

His dexterous fingers slid up to cup the line of your jaw, thumb sweeping suggestively across your lower lip in a searing caress. You struggled not to whimper at the electrifying friction as Gojo leaned further into your personal space.

However, rather than ducking his head the final few scant inches to seal his mouth hungrily over yours, the insufferable tease merely arched backward—body undulating in a slow, sinuous retreat until he towered over you at his full impressive stature. The tip of his tongue darted out to lave his lower lip in clear relish, eyes glinting with wicked invitation as he silently dared you to make good on rising to his heated gauntlet.

A thrill of excitement and determination lanced through your chest as you instantly grasped the game afoot. With purposeful, unhurried movements, you allowed your palms to splay across the granite warmth of his abdomen before slowly, teasingly tracking higher in a worshiping glide. Every rippling corde and sinewy groove of his musculature became briefly profiled as you glided your touch upwards - mapping the scorching acreage in ardent appreciation.

Gojo watched your journey with blown pupils and ragged breaths, torso visibly expanding with each shuddering inhalation he dragged against his impressive restraint. You didn't miss the flex and bunching of his arms and shoulders as you passed over his pectorals, clearly fighting not to haul you bodily against him right then and simply crush your pliant frames back into mutual rapture.

But still, he remained steadfast and motionless—a living marble statue gloriously chiseled from pure virile perfection, awaiting your reverent indulgences with a banked smolder burning behind his hooded stare.

Finally, your fingertips dusted across the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, body arching and straining upwards in your single-minded pursuit of that elusive, smug mouth you craved with mounting desperation. Try as you might to extend yourself onto the balls of your feet and go fully up on tiptoes, Gojo maintained a scant whisper of distance—always hovering just out of your reach with an expression of blatant masculine gratification at your squirming efforts.

A huff of breathy frustration nearly slipped free at the persistent denial, only to be silenced by the way Gojo instinctively dipped lower as if to grant your wish...only to arc back with a low, filthy chuckle that reverberated against your now-thundering pulse. It was as much a sensual dance of control and restraint as a taunt or test of wills at this juncture—simply savoring the delirious friction generated as your pliant, questing form sought to twine and pull him down into decadent oblivion, inch by maddening inch.

"Easy there, kitten..." he rasped in a low, smoky cadence designed to further short-circuit your resolve. "Why don't you try dropping to those pretty knees for me? Might give you better leverage and angles to play with in reaching those tempting lips that have been tormenting that insatiable appetite of yours..."

You answered with a full-body shudder and a needy keen spilling free from your very marrow—all thoughts of recalcitrance and willpower now thoroughly banished beneath the inescapable gravity well of Gojo's hypnotic presence and unholy temptations.

You whined out loud, an unguarded noise of pure pleading desire that seemed to momentarily crack through your usually reserved demeanor. "Satoru...please, wanna kiss you so badly."

The raw, plaintive tone of your entreaty hung in the air between you, heavy with naked yearning in a way that gave even Gojo pause. His brilliant eyes seemed to smolder brighter for an instant, no doubt dredging up fond recollections of past occasions where he'd so thoroughly unraveled your ironclad poise and reduced you to this state.

Rather than pounce on your vulnerability or tease further, however, Gojo's expression softened ever so slightly. One broad palm cradled the back of your skull as he ducked in closer, guiding your trembling frame until your brows nearly brushed.

"Since you asked so nicely..." he murmured, deep timbre emerging somewhere between a graveled purr and heated rumble.

You barely managed a shuddering inhalation before Gojo sealed his mouth over yours in a searing brand of possession. The initial clash of lips and tongue was something closer to an elemental force than a mere intimate exchange—not at all gentle, but rife with pent-up longing and ravenous need finally given free rein.

Your fingers instinctively knotted in the soft fabric of his shirt as Gojo laid an utterly thorough claim upon your senses. He swallowed each desperate little noise and whimper that punched free as if savoring the most delectable of delicacies. One thick forearm banded around your lower back to anchor you fully against his solid frame as he deepened the devouring cadence with relentless intensity.

A husky growl of clear approval and gratification rumbled against your slick, swollen mouth as Gojo momentarily allowed a scant parting for air. "Fuck...I'd almost forgotten how greedy and eager this talented little tongue can get," he grated with clear relish.

You could only pant and squirm fitfully in answer, thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Gojo simply chuckled richly—the timbre vibrating straight through your very cells in a way that somehow untethered your feet from the ground entirely.

The next thing you clearly registered were his powerful arms banding beneath the backs of your thighs to haul you securely against his body in one smooth, easy motion. Your startled yelp melted into a tremulous sigh as the bunching plains of his torso and abdomen braced your arched spine in a sublime full-body embrace.

"Don't go passing out on me before the real fun starts," Gojo husked against the thundering pulse at your nape, even as his long strides carried you across the threshold of your apartment. "I've got plans for putting that gifted mouth to far better uses than just kissing..."

With your legs now locked around his narrow hips, you could feel every delicious ridge and twitch of his growing erection grinding against your dampening heat through the flimsy barriers separating you. A piteous whine slipped free as the swaying rhythm of his determined gait threatened to unravel you down to your very foundation.

"That's it, let me hear just how desperate I've got you aching to taste me properly again," Gojo growled against the whorl of your ear, each guttural rasp sparking fresh convulsions of need between your thighs. "Been waiting all fucking day to unwrap this gorgeous little prize and savor you inch...by...inch."

Gojo punctuated the lascivious promise by swiveling to carefully lay you out amidst the rumpled linens and cushions—each flickering shadow casting his chiseled features into harsh relief. No more levity or evasion glossed his expression, only the stark severity and zero-compromises focus of a predator fully engaged.

Rather than pounce on you immediately, however, Gojo seemed to pause and simply drink in the sight of your breathless, disheveled state with smoldering intent. His bright eyes roamed over every inch of your upturned features and the generous curves left tantalizingly displayed by your askew clothing.

"Goddamn..." he rumbled in a deep timbre thick with undisguised yearning. "Look at you splayed out for me, practically begging to get worked over already."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the pure masculine intensity blazing in his stare. There was an undercurrent of restrained hunger there that made your pulse thunder—heady and distinctly feral even as Gojo slowly prowled over your prone body.

Rather than immediately claim you in a reckless flurry of lust, his calloused palms mapped your sides in a languid, purposeful glide all the way up to your rib cage. You arched instinctively into his maddening caresses, whimpering softly in anticipation.

"Easy there, baby..." Gojo murmured in a low rasp against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed along the thrumming tendons of your neck, clearly savoring the scent of your desire. "You act like it's been months since this pretty pussy has been spread out and stuffed full. And after all the time I spent working you into this gorgeous, wrecked state..."

You squirmed fitfully beneath his unyielding weight, needy whines spilling past your parted lips as Gojo continued leisurely nuzzling and nipping along your jawline and throat. Despite the unhurried leisure of his attentions, you were rapidly spiraling into molten delirium between his hoarse endearments and the tantalizing friction where your bodies met.

"What, so impatient you can't even let me take a second to savor this?" Gojo husked out in a gravel-rough rasp that made you shiver. "I had to spend all damn day thinking about bending you over the second we were alone...so you'll excuse me if I take things slow now that I've got you all wound up and drenched for it."

Emphasizing his point, Gojo slotted one thick, muscular thigh between your parted legs, rocking forward in a slow grind that dragged the solid length of his cock against your molten entrance through the thin barrier separating you. You cried out sharply at the delicious friction, back bowing as frantic nails scoured tracks down his flexing shoulder blades in desperation.

"Yeah...that's it, squirm and moan for me like a good girl," Gojo growled in clear approval, tongue laving a wet path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. "Keep making those filthy sounds and just MAYBE I'll finally give you what you've been gagging for all night."

You could only whimper raggedly in compliance as his mouth moved lower, searing a path from collarbone to the generous swell of your breasts. His large hands cradled and kneaded the soft flesh with relish before tugging the stretchy fabric aside to bare one nipple to the calloused heat of his lips and tongue.

"That's right...let Daddy get his fill and reacquaint himself with every lush goddamn inch," Gojo growled around the rosy peak, sending lightning bolts of sensation zinging straight to your molten core. "Been thinking about sucking and biting these perfect tits all over again ever since you walked into that restaurant looking like a goddamn meal..."

Despite his crude admission, there was an undercurrent of clear reverence and tender devotion laced through his ragged cadences now. Gojo laved and nuzzled at your breasts with all the ardent indulgence of a penitent savoring their last meal before execution. His hooded azure gaze seemed to blaze brighter with each piteous keen and arch you offered up in answer to his lavishing.

Just as you felt yourself ascending the spiraling crescendo toward mindless bliss under his skilled attentions, Gojo abruptly detached from your saturated nipple with a low noise of harsh restraint. You whined plaintively, eyes glassy as your hands reflexively fisted in the front of his shirt—silently pleading for him to resume lapping away at the fiery deprivation swiftly devouring you inside out.

"Easy, baby..." he rasped through gritted teeth, clearly suppressing his own spiraling ardor through sheer force of iron will. "I didn't wait this long to absolutely wreck you just to blow it all on some half-assed foreplay."

Slanting his mouth over yours in another scorching, possessive claim, Gojo cradled your overwrought features between those rough, calloused palms with surprising tenderness.

His thumb smoothed along your cheekbone as the kiss gradually shifted into a slow, sensual undulation.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against the seam of your lips. "Let Daddy hear you ask for it nice and loud."

The command emerged as a gravelly whisper, though his blazing stare held an unmistakable glint of command. Still, the blatant carnal hunger etched into his expression made you feel positively giddy and invincible as your fingertips trailed along the corded lines of his powerful throat.

"I want you inside me, Sensei," you pleaded, voice pitching into a breathy whine. "Please, I need to feel you filling me up again."

Gojo groaned, clearly relishing the shameless admission and the way your thighs clenched reflexively around his hips. You could feel the rigid contours of his cock twitching eagerly against your slickened folds through the layers separating you.

"Fuck, the mouth on you," he rasped, nipping lightly at the underside of your jaw. "You know what it does to me when you call me that."

"Good," you purred, allowing your fingers to trail higher until they carded through the silky soft strands of his hair. "Now, are you going to stop stalling and show me how much better you are at playing teacher in bed?"

Your bold retort earned a snarl of pure male approval, though the sound quickly tapered into a groan as you deliberately canted your hips to drag the seeping damp of your panties against his throbbing erection. Gojo's fingers instinctively curled tighter around your neck, pinning you into place as he bucked and rolled his pelvis forward to reciprocate the delicious friction.

"Alright then, smartass..." he rasped, pupils blown nearly black with ravenous need as he stared down at your upturned, flushed face. "If that's how you wanna play it, I'm gonna make damn sure you're thoroughly re-educated on who exactly holds the reins here."

Without further ado, his hands drifted down to tug insistently at your waistband, practically shredding the flimsy fabric in his haste to free you from the rest of your clothing. You shivered at the way the cool evening air instantly pebbled across your newly exposed skin, though any instinctive modesty was quickly chased away by the hungry stare drinking in your naked form.

Gojo's expression shifted into a predatory leer, the sight sending another jolt of electric anticipation shooting through your already-jangling nerve endings. "That's better," he rumbled, broad palm skating a path up your inner thigh with unhurried reverence. "Nothing should be allowed to hide such a perfect view of my favorite fucking dessert."

You bit back a whimper at the possessive timbres lacing his gravel-rough voice, thighs twitching restlessly as Gojo's touch continued mapping higher. Finally, his questing fingertips slid into the sticky slick coating your swollen folds, dragging the copious evidence of your desire back to where your clit throbbed with need.

"Oh, look at that..." Gojo practically cooed, the filthy delight and awe laced through his voice sending a fresh rush of warmth spilling out against his dexterous ministrations. "Daddy's been neglecting his baby girl, and she's absolutely soaking wet already. How long has my gorgeous kitten been aching like this, hmm?"

The words emerged somewhere between a teasing croon and a gravelly growl, and you could only shudder and keen as Gojo continued rubbing maddening circles over your hypersensitive bud. The friction was already pushing you rapidly to the edge, and judging by the way Gojo's hooded gaze flickered up to watch your rapture, he could tell as much.

"Ah-ah...no cumming until you beg Daddy to fuck you properly," he rasped, even as his index and ring fingers dipped shallowly into your fluttering channel—teasing and stretching the seeping velvet heat in a way that made you sob out loud. "Don't make me have to punish you for being so naughty, kitten. You know I can keep you on the edge all night if I need to."

Your spine bowed and back arched as you writhed and thrashed beneath his touch, a litany of breathy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. "Please, please, Daddy, don't tease me," you begged shamelessly, the words nearly slurring together with raw need. "I'll be a good girl, I swear. Please, please just fuck me..."

Gojo's gaze sharpened with clear gratification as you entreated his mercy, and he finally eased off on the merciless friction between your thighs. Your lungs burned with the force of gulping down ragged lungfuls of air, but you were given scant reprieve before his hands gripped and lifted your thighs, effortlessly hauling you closer and spreading them wide.

"There's my good girl," he murmured, the raw timbre of his voice sending delicious frissons shivering across your fever-warm skin. "Such a sweet little angel when you finally submit."

With one more brief nip at the delicate flesh of your inner thigh, Gojo began working the fly of his trousers open, finally freeing his massive erection. He stroked and pumped his straining shaft a few times for good measure, eyes raking across your splayed, naked form with clear relish.

"Look at how pretty this tight little pussy is, dripping all over my fingers and cock just begging to get filled," he grunted, lining the bulbous crown against your quivering entrance and rubbing it back and forth through the sticky arousal saturating your folds.

A pitiful keen slipped past your parted lips at the taunting pressure, and you could feel a fresh gush of slickness welling up in response to his crass praise. Gojo smirked at the telltale reaction, one calloused palm sliding down to part the plush folds of your pussy even further.

"Goddamn, look how wet and greedy this is for me," he rumbled in a low tone thick with pure male satisfaction. "Bet you were fantasizing about having Daddy's cock stuffing this pretty cunt the whole time we were sitting there in that restaurant. Isn't that right, kitten?"

Your brain was barely capable of stringing together a coherent thought, much less a snarky comeback, but somehow the words slipped free despite the mindless delirium clouding your head. "Y-you were the one who wouldn't stop teasing," you moaned, squirming fitfully against the delicious pressure poised at your molten core. "Can't say I wasn't tempted to drag you into the bathroom and suck you off..."

The words dissolved into a keening cry as Gojo abruptly slammed into the hilt, filling you to the brim and beyond in one brutal, unyielding stroke. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and lower back as he immediately began pounding into your clenching walls, each powerful thrust punching the breath from your lungs.

"Is that so, sweetheart?" Gojo gritted out, hissing through clenched teeth as the clutching vice of your inner walls seemed to squeeze the very life from his engorged shaft. "You were just planning on being a dirty little tease the whole time we were at dinner? What a fucking minx..."

Gojo punctuated the statement by angling your hips upward to drill even deeper, each merciless thrust nudging the sensitive spot at the very end of your channel until the pressure sent stars exploding behind your eyelids. The only sounds that could emerge were a series of broken mewls and wordless whines, utterly incapable of doing anything but lay there and take the exquisite torment of his unrelenting, devastating pace.

"Yeah, that's it, let me feel just how desperately you've been needing this," he snarled, large hands gripping your waist as his pelvis hammered a merciless rhythm against your overstimulated sex. "Soak this fucking cock like a good little kitten. Don't hold back on me, baby. Show me how much you missed Daddy's cock and I might let you cum."

You could barely process the filth spilling free from his mouth at this point, each syllable dissolving into an electric buzz as his ruthless assault stoked the pressure mounting inside you. It was a familiar, heady rush of sensation—a coiling tension that seemed to grow tighter and more unbearable with every punishing roll of Gojo's hips against yours.

He was driving you toward a cliff's edge without pause or quarter, and the sheer force of his intensity was dizzying. Yet, despite the frantic, almost savage cadence, you could feel the subtle shift in his grip and angle as Gojo's gaze bored into your face. Even in the midst of his own delirium, the sheer focus and attentiveness in his stare was intoxicating.

"F-fuck, I'm so close," you gasped out, feeling your core spasming and clutching against the rigid pistoning length impaling you. You feebly reached out, desperate for any kind of anchor amidst the relentless tidal wave of sensation threatening to pull you under. "Satoru...please, want you to kiss me again."

Without missing a beat, Gojo's hands shifted, scooping you up until you were practically cradled in his lap. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and midsection, ankles hooking together as his thrusts never paused. The new position left your torso arching up toward his chest, and Gojo quickly took advantage, slanting his mouth over yours with renewed hunger.

Each slide and curl of his tongue seemed perfectly in time with the driving roll of his hips, and the added closeness was swiftly becoming too much. You were hurtling toward the edge of the abyss, and this time, Gojo seemed intent on taking you down with him.

"My perfect girl, taking my cock like such a good little slut," he gritted out, one hand tangling in your hair while the other braced your back, keeping your bodies fused together. "Been dreaming about this tight cunt for fucking days, and it's even better than I remember. Now be a good kitten and soak Daddy's cock for me."

You could feel yourself tumbling over the precipice even before Gojo's hand snaked down to thumb your clit, and the dual assault was all it took to send you reeling into blinding euphoria. Your climax hit like a freight train, ripping through you with an almost painful intensity that left your toes curling and vision blurring.

Gojo continued thrusting his full length in a rapid-fire tempo, hissing out a strangled groan as the spasms of your inner walls finally dragged him into the depths of oblivion alongside you. Your limbs felt like jelly, and you were grateful for his grip holding you steady as the waves of rapture subsided.

He didn't release you, though, not right away. Rather, Gojo simply held you in his arms, his cheek pressed to the side of your head and the slow rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. The two of you remained silent for a long moment, simply breathing together as the room gradually stopped spinning around you.

Eventually, Gojo pulled back enough to cup your jaw and slant his mouth over yours in another gentle, exploratory kiss. It was nothing like the devouring claims and searing conquests that had preceded it, and the tenderness in the simple press of lips left you feeling utterly weightless.

When Gojo finally withdrew, the smirk curling his lips was positively self-satisfied. "I'd say that’s enough foreplay, wouldn't you, baby?"

You could only huff a soft laugh in response, shaking your head as the residual tremors of bliss faded. "You consider thatforeplay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I too gentle?" he retorted, feigning a look of innocent confusion. "Maybe we should try round two, then. I'll give you a chance to demonstrate what you meant about sucking me off."

The words emerged in a low, silky murmur as his large hands gripped and squeezed the supple curves of your ass, eliciting a soft squeal from you. You smacked at his broad chest ineffectually, unable to fight the grin tugging at your own mouth.

"You're incorrigible."

"That's not a no," Gojo pointed out, his smug expression practically radiating his unrepentant satisfaction. "And if you keep acting all cute and sassy, I can't promise I'll be able to resist the urge to bend you over and remind you exactly who's in charge."

Your stomach fluttered at the casual, nonchalant admission. It was an undeniable thrill knowing just how badly Gojo craved this—craved you. The thought alone was enough to send a fresh wave of warmth flooding through your veins.

"Maybe I'm not opposed to the idea," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip as you glanced up through your lashes.

The look was clearly too much for Gojo's self-control. His eyes darkened with fresh desire, and his grip shifted to lift and turn you so that you were sprawled facedown across the rumpled cushions.

"Well, in that case," he growled, the heat and weight of his body blanketing yours as his hips pressed flush to the swell of your backside. "Let's see just how filthy this mouth is, shall we?"

The room seemed to exist in its own hushed, velvety cocoon of tranquility - a stark contrast to the ferocious passion that had consumed every inch mere moments ago. You lay draped languidly across Gojo's powerful frame with your cheek pillowed on the rises and valleys of his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat reverberated through your lashes in a soothing cadence.

One of your hands traced idle, featherlight patterns over the expanse of his toned abdomen - mapping the ridges and grooves so recently sheened and flexing under your ardent worshiping. Gojo remained equally at peace beneath your sprawled embrace, those brilliant azure irises at half-mast while he reclined with one arm crooked behind his head.

Despite the palpable aura of repletion surrounding you both, a new undercurrent began to gradually assert itself in the weighted stillness. You felt compelled to disturb the quietude to address what this entire evening had truly culminated towards - the deal quietly brokered between heated sheets and joined bodies.

"I'll contact the elders first thing," you murmured, the words seeming to slip free before your mind fully grasped their implication. "About postponing Itadori Yuji's case, like you wanted."

Gojo's chest expanded minutely on a slow inhale, but otherwise his statuesque form remained comfortably inert as your words hung in the air between you. After several beats, you felt the subtle weight of his stare alighting on your upturned features.

"Yeah?" His resonant timbre emerged in a low, stripped rasp - sounding as thoroughly unraveled as the rest of his carefully compartmentalized composure. "They'll actually listen to your stance on something so high-stakes?"

You allowed your own eyes to slip shut in a protracted blink, thoughts rapidly trying to align and process how to even begin verbalizing the sheer revelations that had bloomed open tonight about your place within the jujutsu hierarchy.

"I didn't fully grasp it at first," you admitted, voice coming out slightly roughened from earlier exertions. "But now I'm starting to understand the actual leverage my positioning and reputation has afforded without me even noticing."

Rather than respond directly, the only sound came from a protracted exhalation through Gojo's nose - seeming to signal his grasp of the situation finally mapping out as well. You hoped he also understood just how monumental a gambit he'd set into motion by hammering the truth home in his uniquely heated approach tonight. Not to induce guilt, per se...but perhaps a smidgeon more humility about the harrowing stakes being juggled.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Gojo abruptly shifted his weight until you were rolled over onto your back - his solid bulk carefully blanketing yours without pressure. When your gazes met and locked, you felt that simmering connection arc back into incandescence once more between your joined frames.

"You continue underestimating yourself," he murmured in a timbre now rendered warm gravel thanks to its gravelly softness. He cupped the side of your jaw, thumb tracing the bow of your lips in a barely-there caress that spoke to so much more than surface motions. "Which is exactly why I'm never going to stop knocking some sense into that stubborn head of yours..."

With that throaty declaration, Gojo dipped his chiseled features lower until your foreheads brushed - noses scanting along one another in an electrifying gossamer graze. The intimacy of the motion seemed to steal your very breath straight from your lungs as he carried on in a husked rasp.

"So thank you. For listening to reason and actually wielding your power for once when it really mattered..."

Unable to resist the unspoken pull between your joined gravities any longer, you surged up to seal Gojo's mouth in a slow, simmering clash of satin flesh and indulgent possession. All the unvoiced sentiments and roiling tides of turbulence hovered for a suspended eternity within that singular nexus point before gradually dispersing into peaceful becalm once more.

Eventually Gojo broke away with the barest hint of a crooked smile tugging at those stupidly perfect lips, clearly satisfied with your acquiescence for the time being. The two of you simply basked in silence for a while longer, relishing in this well-earned moment of bonded lassitude.

That is, until the first stirrings of Gojo's impish irreverence inevitably bubbled back up in the form of his rich baritone laced with none-too-subtle swagger:

"So...I take it this means I get to thoroughly ruin you again before breakfast? No more insufferable teasing about you not putting out until your higher-up buddies get their precious signatures?"

You scoffed out a long-suffering sound of semi-amused exasperation, already anticipating the thick cloud of smug virility about to descend. Sure enough, Gojo's chest puffed with unrepentant satisfaction as he slung one heavy arm around your waist and lightly squeezed.

"That's what I thought. Face it kitten, that pretty pussy has officially been drafted into service under my uncompromising authority until further notice..."

He punctuated the lewd declaration by slanting his mouth over yours in a deliriously thorough deluge of hunger and virility, effectively stealing your very breath for a second rapturous cycle before exhaustion could dare creep back in.

And as your joined frames spiraled back into the delirious vortex of blissful dissipation once more, you couldn't help hazarding one last, bemused thought: somehow, you got the distinct impression Gojo would be exercising his latest "authority" over you with particularly unrestrained enthusiasm this time around.

[prettyboykatsuki]

keel | sylus (qin che)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, gendered language (good girl, sweet girl) , the use of kitten like one time, praise kink heavy, domestic sex, unprotected sex, fingering, loverboy sylus, 18+

♡ wc ; 1.8k

♡ a/n ; stuck in my bkg draft so i tried my hand at sylus. not sure how i did im sorry sylus fans </3 pls forgive me if the characterization isn't up to par.

♡ synopsis ; sylus likes fueling your praise kink when the mood strikes.

It's easy to miss the way Sylus is sweet on you.

He does that on purpose. It's a secret. One he promises to keep tucked between the creased edges of his longing. No one knows the depth of his affection, the weight of it, the truth of of it—except Sylus alone.

There is a laundry list of reasons it's like this. Filled with calculated consideration and logical outcomes.

Less reasonably but more truthfully - it's also in his nature. Dragons are known for hoarding their precious belongings.

What could be more precious, more worthy of guard than his love for you?

He doesn't even think he's all that good at hiding it, truthfully. If you catch him at the right time- you'd see it written all over his face. Etched into his features, in the sway of every motion and lasting seconds of every glance.

Of all people, you seem to know the least how much Sylus utterly adores you. At least, you pretend that's the case.

He can't be entirely sure why that is. Or rather—he isn't sure why it's like that even now. Your first reactions to him were warranted, he knows that.

But it's different now. Most of your misunderstandings resolved and your disagreements settled—even without the memories of past, you should know it clearly, right? How much he adores you?

You do know. You can't not know. Not with the way Sylus treats you.

It's almost like you want to avoid the subject all together. Like you're trying not to linger on it too long, or think about it too hard - afraid of what will happen if you do. Each time Sylus makes you face it, you turn away—chin tucked, eyes screwed close, embarrassed. As if the very presence of his love for you is enough to make your face burn. It threatens to swallow you up.

If he didn't find it so horribly loveable, he might venture to call it troublesome.

He likes it about you though, like he likes everything else about you.

Sylus likes to meet you where you are. Where you're sarcastic and easily frustrated, he's patronizing and relaxed. Knowing you get shy so easily when his affection is more overt, he'll push but never far enough to really upset you. He treads carefully, rides the line until you come to him willingly. Always asks, always waits. He's patient like that, especially with you.

Sylus likes crooning about you being catlike - but there's truth in it. It's part of why he's good at handling you. Just like he knows not to move when a cat settles in his lap, Sylus knows not to push you by coming onto strong when you're not asking for it.

(It gives him the same feeling of accomplishment when you come to him first.)

It's rare that Sylus gets to spoil you for all the reasons above.

Spoil you in the overbearing, affectionate sense at least. He usually curbs that desire through spending money on you - but there's something more he's after.

When you come to him wanting it—there's not a single part of him that thinks of refusing. He couldn't even if he tried.

That's why, when you come barreling down his bedroom door and demanding to be fucked - Sylus can only really think to be amused.

You're feeling lazy, and somewhat bold. It's a good deal for him, anyhow.

A single hand cups the back of your thighs as you stand on your knees - straddling Sylus with your hands resting at his at his shoulders. Sylus presses his forehead just underneath your sternum as his other hand focuses on stretching you out.

You let out a soft breath as Sylus scissors his fingers open inside of you. You feel warm around him, wet and slick and inviting. It makes his cock twitch, almost guilty with his desire.

"Feeling alright, sweetheart?"

You open your eyes and look down at Sylus. He smiles at you, head tilted as you frown at him. "I'm fine. But you're taking too long. Want you to—"

"I like letting you have your way but I'm afraid I won't budge on this one," Sylus says, cooing. He presses a chaste kiss to your stomach, adding another finger inside of you. You whine audibly, knees weakening in his grasp. Sylus laughs.

"Awfully worked up today aren't you, kitten?"

"So what if I am?" You spit with familiar hostility he's come to love.

"Now, now - I didn't say it was bad, so don't be that way, hm? You were being so sweet a second ago,"

"I'm always sweet," You say plainly. Sylus laughs harder than he should, and you glare at him with a pronounced frown.

His eyes twinkle with amusement. "That so?"

Your frown deepens. "Yeah."

Your reply comes out firm in a way that makes his chest tight. He stares up at you bemused. "Sure, then. Is there any reason my sweet girl is in particular mood?"

You clench down on his fingers. His brows raise, the grip on his shoulders getting tighter.

"Don't say anything," You hiss. He shrugs.

"There's no shame in it," Sylus says smoothly. "If there's anything you want, you just have to ask. No need for your pride to get in the way, right?"

Your face twists. It's cute, watching you go back and forth - more with yourself than anyone else. You let out a frustrated groan.

"Just—"

"Just what? Will you really be satisfied if I just fuck you?" Sylus purrs, curling his fingers up towards your g-spot with a deliberate control. You gasp as you tighten around him, growing wetter. He feels you go weak in his grasp, smiling as your eyes roll back. "What you really want to hear is how good you are for me, right?"

Your pussy flutters around his fingers again, an involuntary reaction - soft whimpering leaving your mouth. How unusual. How uncharacteristic of you to be so docile towards him, or about him - so openly lusting after such an affectionate sort of attention.

"Be a good girl and ask me to spoil you,"

Your eyes widen. "That's humiliating—,"

Sylus quirks his brow. "So you won't be good for me?"

Your face contorts again. So cute, he thinks. He can see all the gears turn in your head as you sigh. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your voice next to his ear - muffled by his shoulder as you bury your nose against his neck.

"Spoil me," You say, half-demanding. Mostly just needy in a way that makes his skin prickle with heat. "I want you to spoil me,"

Sylus laughs deeply. He can't help it. It's a heavy sound. You hit him when he does, clawing at his shoulders. There's no malice to his laughter though, though. Just a sort of disbelief of how deep his affection can run for you. Like just when he thinks it can't run any deeper, it does.

"You did well, hm?" Sylus hums. It comes easily. He's just voicing what feels like his thoughts are most of the time. "Good job, kitten. Should I give you something in return of your hard work?"

You nod into his shoulder. Sylus feels all the lovesickness in his body jolt, cock going stiff at the innocent gesture. He breathes out.

"Here," He pulls his fingers out from you, relishing the way you hiccup from loss of contact. He strokes his cock with sticky fingers - painfully hard before grabbing your hips and settling your weight of his lap.

You lean down to kiss him and Sylus meets you - a soft tongue kiss and gentle reminder that he's here. You linger there longer than he expects you to, but finds himself eager to stay. When he finally pulls away, he turns his attention back onto your pussy.

He admires your cunt as it hovers over his length. Clit swollen with need, sticky and supple and begging to be fucked - Sylus feels his head go heavy. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his cock, reeling at the silky sensation. The muscles in his abdomen feeling tight.

You whimper above him. Your usual moan softened to noisy, desperate mewls. Something in your demeanor spurs him on. He finds himself more eager than usual to sing your praises.

"You'll look so pretty sitting on my cock won't you, dove?" Sylus croons, his voice thick with arousal. A syrupy lust spreads through his limbs, makes his hold on your hips tighter. "Always take it so perfectly. Made just for me sweetheart. How could I ever think of anything else?"

"Sylus," You draw the syllables of his name out with a whine.

"Shh, I know. Time for me to kiss it better, right?"

You whimper at the implication. Kiss it better when he means to fuck you, it makes your hold on him even stronger. Sylus pulls you down onto his lap slowly. The tip of his cock nudging past slick folds, careful and thoughtful. You buck your hips - seeking tension and depth but Sylus holds you firmly in place.

It'll be better for you if you feel his cock inch by inch. It'd be best if you remembered it carefully. Every vein, every curve, ever angle - carved into your body from now to eternity. It'd be good if you got so used to it, your body couldn't crave for anything else - so you'd have something only he could give you that'd bring you more pleasure then pain.

You sink down on Sylus' cock slowly. Whimpering as the tip finds your entrance, stretching you open slowly. Your pussy accommodates to his size with effort - even after so much stretch. A dull pain that has you squeezing around his length tight the farther down you drop.

"You feel so good," Sylus groans. Your pussy squeezes down on him hard. "That's it. Easy."

Sylus barely touches you. When he bottoms out, you're clamping down on him so hard it barely takes him any effort at all to make you cum. One hand slides between your bodies, fingers resting at your navel as he rubs slow, precise circles into your clit - unmoving.

"Such a good girl for me," Sylus coos. Your whole body wracks into a shiver, as you swear into his shoulder. "Cum. You want to, right? Go ahead and cum,"

"Hnggh, fuck. Sylus I'm—"

"Let go sweetheart. Cum."

Your body coils in as Sylus whipers sweet nothings against your shoulder. You grip his cock like a vice, bottomed out - trembling as arousal and slick floods his length, a sticky sound filling the room as you rock your hips and ride out your high. Your breathing is shallow, trembling as your orgasm knocks the wind out of you.

You're pliant in his grasp. Pleasant and sweet. There's no way you don't know that he adores you.

"You want more?"

Fucked out, you nod your head. An almost docile quality to you.

"Sure, then, sweetheart. We have all day,"

[sunshinesfreckless]

His Spoiled Princess

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Felix x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just a boyfriend who loves to provide for his girlfriend. All she has to do is sit there, smile at him, and he’ll give her everything.

Warnings: Sex! Sexy, gift-giving boyfriend Felix! MDNI

A/N: I came up with this after realizing how generous Felix is when it comes to buying things for his friends and family… not to mention the gifts he gets for Hyunjin. So, I figured he’d definitely be the type of boyfriend who loves to spoil his partner with gifts all the time.

୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Jeongin ୨ৎ Changbin ୨ৎ Han ୨ৎ Leeknow

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

It started with a kiss—soft, slow, and dripping with the kind of devotion that made her toes curl. It had been months since they made it official, but Felix still treated her like it was the first day, still looked at her like she was the only girl in the world.

And she was.

Felix didn’t just love her; he worshiped her. In the kind of way that had his black credit card practically burning a hole in his pocket, ready to be swiped at the faintest hint of her desire. New nails? Paid for. Hair, shoes, custom designer clothes? Done before she could even ask. The finest handbags, diamond-studded jewelry, Louis Vuitton robes embroidered with her name in gold thread—because why the fuck would his princess wear anything that wasn’t made just for her?

She wasn’t just spoiled—she was his.

And he made sure she knew it.

When they were out, he never let her speak for herself.

“You’re too pretty to talk to them, baby,” he’d murmur, guiding her behind him with a protective hand at the small of her back, a slight smirk playing at his lips whenever her lashes fluttered up at him in quiet obedience.

Waiters? Male workers? He handled it.

All she had to do was look pretty, smile sweetly, and wait for her Felix to take care of everything.

And she loved it.

The way his voice dropped just for her, low and commanding, the way he made decisions like it was second nature, the way she never had to lift a finger—unless it was to touch him.

She leaned into him, letting her fingers curl into the soft fabric of his sleeve —because she knew the moment they got home, he’d remind her just how much he adored spoiling his princess.

She’s his baby, his favorite thing in the world.

She was draped in luxury. A custom Louis Vuitton robe, soft blush satin embroidered with her name, the gold thread catching the dim bedroom light. It slid like liquid over her skin, barely covering the delicate lace underneath—the set Felix had picked out for her because, as he put it, “My girl deserves the finest.”

Felix sat back against the pillows, watching her with dark, heavy-lidded eyes, the kind that made her thighs press together involuntarily. He was relaxed, shirtless, the sharp cut of his collarbones leading down to the smooth plane of his stomach. His legs spread slightly, an invitation disguised as laziness.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with warmth. “Let me see you.”

She stepped closer, letting the robe slip just enough to tease. Felix’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, his fingers tapping lazily against his knee as he looked her over like she was something rare, something precious. And she was.

“You know why I got this made for you?” His voice was soft, coaxing, as he reached forward, tracing his fingers over the golden embroidery.

“Because I’m your princess?” she teased, her lips curling as she straddled his lap.

Felix hummed, his hands settling against her waist, warm and steady.

“Mmm. Because you’re my everything.”

Her breath hitched, and before she could respond, his lips were on her throat, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down to her collarbone. His grip tightened, pulling her closer until there was no space between them, just the heat of his body and the silk melting between them.

“I don’t just spoil you, baby,” he murmured against her skin, his voice dipping lower. “I worship you.”

And with that, he flipped her beneath him, the silk pooling around them as his mouth claimed hers, slow and thorough, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt—she was his, and he was about to show her just how much that meant.

The box sat prettily on the dining table, a blush pink bow tied perfectly around the packaging. She hadn’t even asked for it—just mentioned it once, and now, here it was.

Felix leaned back in his chair, one arm resting casually on the backrest, watching her expectantly.

“You got me the pink one?” she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it anyway.

“Of course, I did,” he said smoothly. “My princess gets whatever she wants.”

She smiled, stepping between his legs, placing her hands on his broad shoulders as she leaned down, pressing a slow kiss to his lips.

“You spoil me too much, Lixie,” she whispered against his mouth.

Felix chuckled, his hands gripping her waist, pulling her effortlessly into his lap.

“Never too much,” he corrected, his voice low and warm. “Just enough.”

His hands trailed down her hips, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her dress, gathering it higher. The air shifted, the energy between them thickening. Her pulse quickened as his lips grazed her jaw, his voice a gentle murmur against her skin.

“Wanna thank me properly, baby?”

She knew exactly what he wanted. And she wanted it too.

Minutes later, the iPhone was forgotten, still perfectly wrapped on the table. She, on the other hand, was not so put together. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, her cheek pressed against the cool marble, Felix’s hands gripping her hips as he moved inside her, slow, deep, thorough. Every thrust sent heat coiling tighter in her stomach, her nails scrambling for purchase against the table as Felix pressed a soothing kiss between her shoulder blades.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “Take it, baby. Just like that.”

And when she finally came, Felix held her through it, murmuring soft praises against her skin, kissing her shoulders as he coaxed her down from the high.

“So good for me,” he whispered, turning her head so he could press a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. “That’s my perfect girl.”

She loved the bag. Not just because it was designer, not just because it was stunning—but because Felix had gotten her a prettier one than Chan’s girlfriend. Just because he could.

Felix smirked as she admired it, his hand resting lazily on her thigh as the car drove through the city streets.

“Like it, baby?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, batting her lashes at him. “You really do take care of me, don’t you?”

Felix chuckled, fingers teasing up the hem of her dress.

“You’re mine,” he said simply. “Of course, I do.”

She smirked, then—deliberately, teasingly—reached under her dress and slipped her panties off, tucking them neatly into the new handbag. Felix’s breath hitched, his grip on her thigh tightening.

“You little—” His voice cut off as she swung a leg over his lap, straddling him right there in the backseat. The driver was long forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the heat between them, the way she grinded against him, slow and teasing.

“Wanna show me just how much you love spoiling me, Lixie?” she purred, rolling her hips.

Felix groaned, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her down onto him, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered:

“Baby, you have no idea.”

Her nails were perfect—long, glossy, diamond-studded tips that caught the dim bedroom light with every flutter of her fingers. Felix had made sure of it. He had paid for the finest salon, made sure she had the most delicate, intricate designs, all because his princess deserved nothing but the best.

And now?

Now those nails were scratching down his back, leaving marks that burned in the best way possible.

Felix groaned, the sound low and wrecked, vibrating against her throat as he pinned her down harder into the mattress. His hands were firm on her hips, holding her exactly where he wanted, controlling the way she took every slow, deep thrust.

Her legs trembled around his waist, heels still strapped to her feet, the sharp points pressing into his lower back as she clung to him. The pleasure was overwhelming, melting her brain into something useless and syrupy sweet.

“F-Felix—” she gasped, nails digging in harder as he rolled his hips, pushing deeper, stretching her open inch by inch with that torturous, controlled pace.

Felix chuckled against her skin, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he dragged his teeth along her jaw, biting down just enough to make her whimper.

“You like showing off those nails, huh?” His voice was dark, teasing. “Go on, scratch me up, baby. Let me feel how much my princess loves her gifts.”

Her body responded before her mind could—her nails raked down his back, her walls fluttering around him as her legs tightened, drawing him impossibly closer.

Felix hissed through his teeth, a shudder rolling through his body. “Fuck—just like that, baby.” His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her head back so he could press his forehead to hers, his breath hot against her lips.

“You wanna make a mess on my cock, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice pure sin, pure indulgence.

Her head nodded weakly, too dumb, too wrecked to form words.

Felix grinned, kissed her hard, then gave her exactly what she needed.

The slow, teasing rhythm was gone— now, he was fucking her deep, thorough, overwhelming, just like she deserved.

She sobbed his name, nails scraping, legs trembling as she arched into him, completely undone.

“That’s it, princess,” Felix groaned, burying himself deep as she shattered beneath him. His hands smoothed over her shaking body, grounding her as he fucked her through the aftershocks, pressing kisses along her jaw, whispering soft praises against her lips.

“So fucking good for me. My perfect girl.”

And when she finally came down from the high, Felix just smiled, as she was tracing over the red streaks on his back with lazy fingers, his voice soft and full of pride.

“Mmm. Gonna have to take you back to the salon, baby.” He pressed a slow kiss to her temple. “I think we need to get those nails sharpened.”

Felix knew she didn’t love him for his money. It wasn’t about the designer bags, the diamond-studded nails, or the silk sheets he wrapped her in. She never asked for any of it—she deserved it, and that was why he gave it to her.

But what made his chest ache in the sweetest way was the way she loved him back.

It was in the small things—the way she tried to repay him in her own way. The nights she surprised him with a home-cooked meal, even when she giggled and said, “It’s not fancy, but I wanted to try it for you.” The way she curled up in his gaming chair, controller in hand, playing with him until her head drooped against his shoulder, her soft, sleepy voice murmuring, “Just one more round, Lixie.”

And God, the way she waited for him.

She never complained when he was stuck in the practice room late into the night. Instead, she sat there, bundled up in one of his hoodies, watching him dance, cheering for him, waiting until he was finally done so she could wrap her arms around him, press her face into his chest, and whisper, “You worked so hard, baby. I’m proud of you.”

That was what mattered.

Felix could buy her the world, and she would take it with a smile, but she would love him just the same even if he had nothing.

And that was why he had to spoil her.

Because she was his everything. And she deserved to be treated like it.