#MEN plays itself completely straight

[the-acid-pear]

Like look at another movie that was really weird and divisive with wacky visuals and sexual themes, just like men had: Beau Is Afraid.

Beau too was a fucking trip but in that movie we had an story. We had a starting point and an end goal. You'd even argue this is a vague take on the odyssey too. Sure it was kind of insane for better and for worse but all of its scenes and themes tied to a bigger picture.

MEN is so over the place trying to bring in so many details but refusing to give them a reason to be. In BIA at least you can go "Beau is hallucinating/living out his intrusive/paranoic thoughts" and it makes sense because if you have mental illness similar to him (I do) expecting the worst to happen is what you do, but here it's taken to 11 bc well he's imagining it a little too close. In MEN there's not a single semblance of an explanation on anything. They vaguely maybe imply paganism but I'm just making huge assumptions.

Like BIA is a movie that gives you stepping stones to tie it all together, while MEN is a movie where you just gotta write fucking fanfiction for any of it to make sense. And I'm so upset about it. -_-

[raitonsfw]

bsd men: first time edition

characters: nakahara chūya, nakajima atsushi, & dazai osamu.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, virgin!reader, loving!chūya, virgin!atsushi, smug!dazai, positions: missionary (chūya's & atsushi's) & riding (dazai's), p in v intercourse, slight clit play, premature ejaculation (atsushi's), kissing, praising, pining, slight dirty talk, consent, hint of pain, some uncertainty, new sensations, chūya's part feels poetic to me (almost cried writing it), atsushi ruins his trousers hehe (he's so cute), dazai's quite big ahem- (iykwim).

a/n: why not start a tiny bsd series with sharing their first times with you? probably a v popular idea, but we always need more variety you know? wc: 1.9k m.list

next up: bsd men: first time edition pt 2. (nikolai, fyodor, & sigma)

divider credit: @hitobaby

❝𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚'𝐬❞ first time with you goes exactly as planned. a bottle of wine waited for you in the kitchen afterwards as he delicately hovered over you with an intoxicating smile. he didn’t want to drink beforehand– this moment was too important to get wine drunk over, too intimate to get lavished from the red liquid and you appreciated the gesture. 

the silk sheets kissed your skin, felt underneath you with a cold sheen and you reveled in the way his mouth tasted like you were his wine; sweet and delicate to the touch as his tongue lapped into your mouth. careful not to break – not to shatter you – as his gloved palms ran over the flesh of your hips, soft fingertips dipping into the innate crevices of your body. 

when he pushed into you, there was a hint of pain– but it was completely erased by the gentleness of his fingers soothing against your blushed cheeks. you felt at ease in his arms, your hands shielded over his lithe figure, and he knew his back would soon be littered with scratches. your legs wrapped around him as he settled deep inside you– waiting for you to adjust to the imploring feeling of being connected. 

“it’s okay, darling– tell me when i can move. i’ll make sure you feel so good…” 

“fuck you’re so tight around me… can’t think straight–”

and you loved that of him. you adored the way he looked at you, his rich eyes searching for any discomfort and brushing it away. his humanity shone through and you wondered how he could possibly think that such a cherished feeling wasn’t human itself? he had held back a groan when he sank into you, your walls hugging him tightly with a sharp inhale coming from you but now his voice failed him as you prompted him to move.

a low groan escaped his lips as he pulled out of you gingerly and thrusted back in, your mind nearly going numb at the first stroke. for such a tiny man, he surely knew how to curve thickly inside you– his cock nudging against the sweet bundle of nerves. you let out a quiet moan, your head tipping back onto the pillows and your entire body relaxing against his. everything seemed to have melted away as he took to a languid rhythm, soft kisses against your neck and chest littering your skin.

every time you squeezed around him, his eyes would roll back and he’d jolt inside you– his hips stuttering and a tiny curse expelling from him until he held eye contact with you. and god, did that make you feel gorgeously exposed – piercing blue staring back at you with such intimacy drawn in them, it made your heart flutter and dance. you couldn’t help but take his roseate cheeks into your hands, capturing him into a searing kiss that he thought about for days on end afterwards. 

you were so caught up within your pleasure, you didn’t have time to tell him you were close but he knew way before you did; quiet praises coaxing you closer and closer to your release.

“c’mon, give it to me sweetheart– yes…” 

and when you came, it was a blossoming feeling. your body shook with pleasure and chūya could barely hold his own, desperately trying not to cum yet but failing miserably as you let out those pretty little moans for him. 

your back arched against him, both of your chests touching and with a light hand, he subconsciously swiped it over the small of your back to keep you in place with his ability caressing you so you wouldn’t slump against the bed too harshly. 

“so good for me, y/n… had me losing my mind.”

❝𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢'𝐬❞ first time with you is also his first time. you knew he was a virgin beforehand, his slight jumpy actions whenever you placed your hand on his thigh– dare you try to go further with him, his whole face would turn red and you’d think it was the cutest thing ever. 

when you finally made the move on atsushi, his lips wouldn’t work properly as he stuttered out ‘a-are you sure, y/n?’ and you’d just melt at the way he laid back for you when you straddled him with a passionate kiss. you just had to shut him up or else you’d second guess yourself even though you wanted him to practically mount you since the day you met him at the agency.

you’d be so fucking careful too– careful enough as to not scare him away, he was always so flighty when it came to intimacy. but this time, he seemed to revel in every muted touch to his body. your fingers would trail down his chest, toying with his suspenders and your other hand would thread into his hair– the swayed black highlight in it slicking back as he got more needy with each kiss. 

his hands would fly to your hips, your clothed cunt flush with his stiffened cock– and you’d make the mistake of grinding down onto him. he’d cum in his trousers seconds after, a choked moan escaping him against your lips and it’d turn you on sooo much. it’s like he was reliving his teen years, freshly sixteen and barely able to contain his horniness when he felt a woman’s touch for the first time.

as you pulled away to look at him, he’d turn his head away with a quiet ‘sorry’ slipping from his mouth and god, if you weren’t wet then… you’re soaked now. you’d tease him– ‘atsushi, never had a pretty girl grind on you? how cute…’ to which he’d respond with simply rolling you two over in bed, him now on top of you.

“if you’re really sure, we can do it this way.”

“w-would you like that?”

and now it’s your turn to go red in the face, your legs parting to let him in. with shaky fingers, he’d undress you– each article of clothing ending up near the end of the bed and he’d take every opportunity he had to ogle at your figure. you looked so beautiful underneath him– him of all people – and he was certain if he touched his cock now, he’d explode. 

and when you wrapped your hand around him to guide him in, thank god he didn’t; his insides shifting as you gave him a small smile. the tip of his cock nudged up against your entrance and you both looked down as he sunk inside you. a gasped moan met you, which you swallowed up early– your own whines in tune with his as he started to move inside you. 

“l-love you soo much– you okay baby?”

you’d nod every time he asked, your mouth ghosting over his neck and his shoulders as he buried his head into yours– every thrust feeling so overwhelming to you but it felt so good… for as long as it lasted at least. his hips had started stuttering into you, quiet pants and whimpers leaking into your ear as his high caught up to him quickly. he couldn’t stop from stringing out your name in a long drawn moan either, his eyes squeezing shut as he reached his second orgasm within the hour.

“‘m so sorry… g-gonna cum–!”

he stilled in you, weakly shuddering through his release and you massaged his back softly as he collapsed against you after. his cum dripped out of you, around his own cock as he didn’t even manage to pull out and you’d pepper kisses into his skin. atsushi would mumble out some nonsense, presumably a ‘thank you’ and once he came to, you knew he’d return the favor– with your guidance of course. 

❝𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮'𝐬❞ first time with you goes…not exactly how you expected. with the exception of his bandages loosening underneath your grasp and his urge to just straight up bounce you on his cock, you didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into. 

he insisted on you riding him the first time– that way if anything happened you could just get off of him and that was that. definitely not because of the way your figure was practically on display for him, your breasts jiggling and your pretty pussy fluttering around him as you sunk down unassuredly. 

you didn't know where to put your hands so they ended up fluctuating between holding them against your chest and resting them against his sternum, pressing deeply as another wave of pleasure rolled through you when you leaned slightly forward. his cock nestled up right against your cervix, curved upwards long and thick and you nearly died on spot when he first pulled it out. 

you knew dazai had been packing, but you didn’t really think twice about it until it was prodding against your entrance. the head of it slipped past your folds and you had gasped out, his bandages nearly tearing from the sheer grip you had on them. and then he bottomed out and… oh, wow– you never felt so full in your entire fucking life. 

“that’s it, good girl– took me like a champ.”

“how ‘bout you put on a show for me?” 

you didn’t know what he meant, but you tried your best as you lifted yourself up on his cock– the crown catching lightly against your hole and sinking back down onto him quickly. your hands quaked, a bit of pain shooting through your abdomen before dissipating as you moved more fluidly on him.

you looked at dazai halfway through, half-lidded eyes meeting yours and suddenly, you understood why people have sex now. his entire face was smug, his mouth open in silent pants, and his bangs stuck to his forehead with his arms crossed behind his head. it was hot– the way his eyes followed the bounce of your breasts and the movements of the back of your thighs smacking down slightly against his own. 

he wasn’t very loud, which you had coined him to be before but maybe you had to wait. with his lustered personality, you were sure he’d pipe up near the end, his hips starting to work against yours with a searing grasp against your own hips. 

he practically moved them for you, lifting you up and down against him with little waver and his eyes rolled back when you clenched around him, a cry leaving your mouth as he nudged your sweet spot. 

“right there, hm? use your words, baby.”

your voice was broken apparently as you could barely form his name on your tongue, overwhelming pleasure coursing through your entire body as he fucked up into you earnestly now. you couldn’t hold back your moans anymore, same with him – you knew it – his low groans filling the air now with every thrust. 

you felt so good around him, tight and now made to fit his cock personally. he only ever wanted his cock buried deep in you from now on, no one else’s; you were his until the day you two decided the afterlife. 

your orgasm fluttered up your spine, quick and brutal until it was right there and you tried to tumble off, a sharp whine escaping you. you looked to dazai for help, a needy look too and he cooed at you with a smirk. 

“yeah, gonna cum on my cock? how darling. cum for me, y/n.”

his fingers grazed your clit, rubbing it expertly and your orgasm washed over you within seconds. you were too far gone to notice the tiny whimpers that escaped the brunette as you convulsed on his cock, the desperation that overtook him as he watched you fall apart– his vision went white when he came inside you. 

yeah, this wasn’t exactly what you expected but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

[aimbutmiss]

Mihawk was surprised when Crocodile came up to him with the idea of Cross Guild, which was surprising in itself, because it took a lot to get such reaction out of the stoic man. Mihawk's initial reaction was to assume Crocodile had finally gone mad after his fall from grace. But it didn't take him long to see the full picture. Buggy's debt and the sheer amount of men who adored him in his crew...he could be used easily and efficiently. But Mihawk didn't care about all that. He wasn't a businessman like Crocodile, he didn't care about money or power like him. But despite this, he still agreed. There were two main reasons why he did so:

1- He was bored. With Zoro and Perona gone, he was left on his own on his dreary island. (No offence to the humandrills, but they weren't exactly good company) At first he was quite happy about his situation, he did value his solidarity after all. However, that bliss didn't last very long. He quickly found his usual routine to be repetitive and dreadful, more and more as the days passed. Losing his warlord status right after triggered a fuse in his mind. He could do anything he wanted (not that the government ever got in the way of him doing as he pleased) but he realised that he didn't know what it was that he wanted. Crocodile's offer reminded him of the offhand conversations he used to have with Shanks at dirty bars, which brings us to the second point:

2- He was very intrigued by Buggy. Shanks babbled a lot after he had a bit too much to drink, more than usual at least. But he would still have some level of awareness no matter how drunk he was, never letting his guard completely down. This was not the case with Mihawk. They were close friends, something even more at some point, so Shanks felt comfortable enough to open the dam holding back his words around him. Mihawk appreciated this, not only because it was a huge show of trust, but also because of how entertaining his stories were. Stories about wars and victories, the Pirate King and Dark King Rayleigh... It was all so intriguing. But everything somehow always circled back around to one man: Buggy. Mihawk had never heard of him before, but if Shanks' words were to go by he must have been truly exceptional. Shanks used to have this lovesick look on his face whenever he talked about his old friend, sometimes even straight up sobbing in front of him. This man, who was on Gold Roger's crew and made Shanks fall head over heels in love, perplexed Mihawk. How could such a man exist, hiding his existence for so long? Oh, how he longed to meet him.

Unfortunately for Mihawk, their first meeting didn't go according to plan. Marineford was a mess. He wasn't very interested in the government's goals, he just wanted to see how far straw hat would go. That boy's potential shone so bright, it didn't surprise him one bit that red hair also saw it. What he didn't expect at all though, was to run into the Buggy from Shanks' stories, who was being used like a human shield by straw hat. So, it didn't phase Mihawk one bit when his sword cut straight through the man but he quickly put himself back together. The blue hair, the red nose, this couldn't possibly be anyone else. Mihawk had a certain image of Buggy in his mind, but that all shattered at one look at this man-baby in front of him. There was no way this was the man Shanks was praising left and right, right? Or perhaps, Shanks' stories were always tinted with rose coloured glasses and very far from the truth. How disappointing. But still, something didn't sit well in Mihawk's mind. There must have been some amount of truth to the words he heard. He wanted to see more, but unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to catch the clown again, with Shanks arriving and all. Yet here it was, two years later, Crocodile was handing him a second chance on a silver platter. He simply couldn't refuse.

And so, he agreed to playing house with Crocodile. It was obvious why the man had reached out to him instead of, literally anyone else. Mihawk was strong. He had a strong hold on the use of haki, which the other man lacked. He could easily protect them while Crocodile ran the business part of things. They would work well together, covering each other's weak points. The more obvious reason though, was the fact that Mihawk happened to be one of the very few people Crocodile got along with. That man had a habit of making enemies of everyone he came across, which was not surprising considering he wasn't very likable. But that never bothered Mihawk, he did like a challenge.

The more he got to know Buggy, the more he hated the man, which was not what he was going for at all. He tried his best to see any good traits in him, but repeatedly failed to do so. The man was like a soggy, wet mop, who cried at any chance. He was way too easy to push around, and Mihawk kept doing it because the damn clown was so annoying. His voice, his mannerisms all got on his nerves. This was it, giving up was the only choice. There was no way this clown had any redeemable quality. Shanks was just more insane than he initially thought, whatever. It was just wasted time, and he wouldn't waste any more of it.

Just as he had decided on his departure from Cross Guild and had mentally prepared himself to clash with Crocodile (which he really didn't want to do, he actually liked the man) fate decided this was not the end. All the stalking he did payed off as slowly, he started seeing the clown in a new light. It was the small things at first. The man clearly cared for his crew, and it was almost sweet. He'd always put aside time to train in acrobatics with Cabaji, and to groom Richie with Mohji. He and Alvida had tea time together, giving the woman her much needed gossip time. He was more silent with his closer confidants, he let them do the talking while he listened. He let Cabaji teach him new moves, to help him out when he struggled. He laughed at Mohji's horrible jokes. And it wasn't that boisterous clown laugh, oh no, it was much more...quiet. Yet somehow more vibrant. It was genuine. He let Alvida paint his nails, and let Richie lick his face even when it got red and irritated. He was usually known for his grand gestures as the "genius jester", but he showed his love much more subtly to his friends. It was almost refreshing to see the difference. Almost like the usual Buggy was a performance, a show. And Mihawk was finally seeing the backstage.

Then, one day, he ran into him in the library. He was in his colourful pyjamas, hair tied into a bun and no clown makeup to cover his face. No makeup. One look into his sea green eyes and Mihawk finally started to understand what Shanks must have been thinking. This man was beautiful. And he was holding one of his favourite books.

"D-do you want me to leave? Because I totally can! I'll be out of here in a jiffy-"

"No need. You may stay."

Mihawk didn't know what came over him, but he walked over to the other man. "I quite enjoyed that one. Which chapter are you on?"

And just like that, their unofficial book club started. Buggy was a lot more clever than he let on. Mihawk quite enjoyed listening to his opinions about the books they read. One day, it stopped just being books. They'd talk about anything and everything. Mihawk hated to admit it, but this was exactly what he was missing on Kuraigana: companionship. He felt comfortable with Buggy, and it felt way too easy to fall into a routine with him. Buggy was knowledgeable on a lot of things. He knew chemistry and physics, spending a lot of time in his workshop working on his bombs. He was also a stellar navigator. Clearly his apprenticeship under Roger hadn't been for nothing like it seemed. And when he spoke of old tales, he wouldn't smile like Shanks did. His eyes were carrying sadness and sorrow Mihawk couldn't comprehend. How fascinating, that the same experiences can bring completely different emotions to different people.

When he wanted to try to see Buggy more from red hair's perspective, his goal wasn't falling in love. But that's exactly what happened. It happened all too quickly. He got back into his farming and cooking hobby, because now he felt he had a reason to settle down on Karai Bari. A lot of his cooking ended up on Buggy's plate. Unintentionally, at first, but it made the clown so happy that Mihawk didn't have it in himself to stop. If anything, he started to spend a lot more time in the kitchen. And the escalation of their relationship wasn't one sided, Buggy had also started feeling more comfortable around him. (Which definitely didn't make Mihawk fill with warmth) He started asking things of him like "Can you brush my hair?" "Can you watch me perform this trick?" and Mihawk found that he was losing his ability to say no at an alarming rate. He was falling for the man. He took that revelation with grace, he wasn't the type to deny his feelings, unlike a certain someone. (Crocodile's denial of his feelings for Buggy is a whole other story that was happening consecutively to all this) And as he watched Buggy polish Yoru with careful hands and focused eyes, he found it all too easy to understand Shanks. No wonder this man had an army of men following him, willing to do anything he said. Buggy the Clown was dangerous, and he just added Mihawk's name to his long list of victims.

Mihawk's mouth curved upwards as he took the shiny sword from a smiling Buggy. He found that just this once, he didn't mind being a victim at all.

[risuola]

SAY MY NAME — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who you matched with on the dating app

Internet is such a weird place. Never in your life you thought that you'd go to bed with a complete stranger that you met through the internet, but when you found yourself standing in front of the room in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo, you somehow thought now more about the man himself than the very obvious fact that you should not go but run home. But then he opened the door.

cw: smut (duh), anonymous, overstimulation, one night stand, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), fingering, cum play if you squint, strangers to lovers? (I couldn’t help myself), reader discretion is advised — 7,8k words

masterlist

Avoiding strangers was like a second nature to you – you were taught from the youngest age that danger awaits on each and every corner of the world, especially when the night falls, and you lived your life to dodge it. Years and years you isolated yourself from risks, you stayed at home when your friends partied, you drank modestly, while they were blacking out. You were responsible enough to never get yourself into any serious trouble. But those things are what makes you gravely boring, and your closest friend made sure you taste some fun.

That’s how you ended up in front of a room 777 in one of the most expensive hotels in Tokyo. Everything around you dripped with luxury – the dark, marbled floors glossed to the perfection despite many shoes that walked through them hundreds of times every day; the deep green walls garnished beautifully with decorative, golden panels at the very top of them; the intricate crystal chandeliers twinkling with the most expensive rainbows in the soft light, lighting your way from the elevator through the long hall. Your high heels tapped softly against the gleaming tiles with every step you took, echoing in the silence of the corridors. And then, there’s the door – large and crafted from dark, nearly black oak wood with dainty, golden numbers situated on the top half of them.

While you studied the twirly, and yet simple font of the digits, you couldn’t help but wonder if the echo of your quickened heartbeat also bounced along the halls. You for sure heard it a little too clearly in your ears, someone could probably scream next to you and the sound of blood being pumped inside your veins would make you deaf to that. Was it stress or excitement, you couldn’t tell. You were just so out of place here – not only in the ridiculously overpriced interiors but also in the situation itself.

"Go and have as much fun as you can", your friend told you just few hours ago when you were nervously getting ready for a date that you set yourself up with a complete stranger from the internet. You met him through the dating app that your bestie forcefully installed on your phone, creating an account for you and swiping right on everyone that she deemed even remotely attractive. It wasn’t your thing, you never tried online matching, but to avoid hours of lecture about how your boringness will one day kill you, you went with it. Exchanging few anonymous messages with strangers couldn’t hurt, right? You might even meet someone valuable there – that’s what you thought, but quickly it turned out that men in the internet tend to send dick pics quicker then they say hello, and that wasn’t exactly what you wanted to see. But then, there he was. Another man that swiped right on you and you really have no idea how it came to the fact that now you were in the hotel, just one piece of wood away from him. He didn’t give you his name, he never send you any picture and was way too honest about what he expects from you, but maybe that was what intrigued you. No unnecessary saccharine, no charming words – just straight up offer and maybe it’s due the three shots of vodka that your friend poured into you, but you typed “I’m in, where?” quicker than you could sober up. When you did, it was too late for backing out.

Many things were running through your mind as you mindlessly looked at the seemingly lucky trio of sevens at the entrance to your one-night fling. There was the obvious fear that you were indoctrinated with from childhood that meeting strangers inevitably leads to abuse, trafficking and death and to say that the vision of yourself in a body bag didn’t cross your mind would be an awful lie, but you did everything to distract yourself from it – and by everything, you mean babbling with your friend. She was more excited than you for that date but probably expected you to chicken out anyway. She even told you that she’ll stay on standby to pick you up from the hotel and cheer you up if things go wrong – she was also ready to storm in and kill the dude.

Next thing that worried you was the lack of pictures – he was apparently a 28-year-old man, handsome – if you were to believe him, and yet, you had no proof of that. He might as well be an old, greasy perv hunting on young ladies. You should turn around and make your way to the nearest exit, that’s what you should do. But you didn’t. Instead, you smoothed out light-blue dress that you decided to wear, you brushed your hair back with your fingers and took a deep breath, raising a hand in which you clutched the key card to unlock the doors.

You didn’t reach the electronic lock, because dark oak in front of you swung open and what met your eyes exceeded all of your expectations. He was tall, much taller than you, his head almost as high as the upper doorframe. White hair were framing his incredibly handsome features. It honestly shocked you how good looking he was – the eyes, so mystically blue, as if the entire ocean flowed and twinkled inside his irises, surrounded by long, white eyelashes. Straight nose, lips that looked softer than you’d consider legal amount and the face that although manly, held some femininity to it, making him look just unreal. His body, slim and visibly fit, dressed half-casually in simple dark pants and the light-blue button-up shirt tucked into them. His sleeves were rolled up enough to expose his forearms and two buttons from the top were left open. Quickly, you understood why he spared any pictures in his profile. He had to. You weren’t sure if the app could withstand the demand he’d have if he published his visuals.

“Hey there, stranger.” The man smiled, his eyes scanning your silhouette from your head to your toes and right back up and by the content painted on his lips, you assumed he wasn’t disappointed with the view. You for sure were not disappointed with him. “Thought you’ll never enter so I figured I might as well let you in myself.”

“S-sorry,” you muttered and cleared your throat from the pathetic stutter that seemed to take the best of you. Then, you tried again. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no worries, sweet thing. Come inside.” With that, he moved slightly to the side, and you made a step forward, crossing the threshold and entering the beautiful suite that he chose himself. You were told at the reception that it’s one of the most luxurious apartments in the building because of the stunning view that spreads itself through the big, full-wall-sized windows. It was, indeed, breathtaking, and for just a moment it distracted you from your date. You put your little bag down and allowed him to take off your jacket before you approached the panorama behind the clear glass. Night sky illuminated magically, influenced by the cacophony of colors that radiated from the never-sleeping city below it. Tokyo during late hours was one of the most mind-blowing images an eye can experience – it’s bright and vibrant, filled with neon lights and colorful banners that in the darkness grow even more vibrant.

Satoru watched the way your hips swayed left and right while you made your way slowly towards the windows. He couldn’t blame you; the view was impressive and put it on the many times he’s seen it, but he found you much more interesting. You were more than he expected, taught by the way women edit their pictures to look better than they usually are, but you – you were more gorgeous than on the picture that your profile was equipped with. In all honesty, if it was only for the photo, he probably wouldn’t even swipe for you – it wasn’t the sharpest, the light was shit, your face wasn’t all that visible and it looked like it was taken in a rush, maybe even by surprise (which it was), but there was something so raw about it that interested him. But live? Fuck, he was hard from the moment he saw you and it never happened to him before. Usually, he’s the one that needs some work to get properly aroused during those flings – often he’s straight up unable to find the person attractive enough to pursue with the night and he excuses himself with some shitty bluff about his sick grandmother. Now, as he had a chance to inhale the sweet, floral scent of your perfume, that his fingers brushed against the bare skin of your shoulders when he took your jacket off, that his eyes were able to take all of you in, he wanted nothing more than to be inside of you already. And probably, he would if not for the visible nervousness, so he took this little bit of time you needed to admire the panorama of Tokyo to admire the picture of you.

He had no idea why you chose to wear a dress that matched his eyes so perfectly without ever seeing them, but just as his eyes laid on your frame with ease, so was the garment. It was short, but somehow still looked innocent on you. The fabric hugged your waist tightly, flaring up slightly below it, crating a skirt that flowed with the movements of your steps, bouncing slightly off your hips, hypnotizing him with each sway. The top half fitted your chest perfectly, the ruched details adding even more volume to your breast and the low, square-ish neckline accentuating your collarbones and shoulders. Two, slightly puffy, short sleeves added you some innocence that Satoru couldn’t wait to stain, but for now, he needed to have a taste of you.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” The soft, honeyed tone reached your ears once again and you could tell there was the slightest line of amusement underneath the pleasurable melody of his words. His voice was just as attractive as the rest of him, you just met him and already knew that you could listen to it every day if given a chance. A soft purr formulated in your throat at the feeling of his lips pressed to the side of your neck, from where he gently pushed your hair away. The gesture so feather-like and yet it sent shivers down your spine, making you suddenly hyperaware of his entire being next to you.

“It is.” You gave it a nod, feeling another sparkle of excitement rushing through your nervous system, when his hand landed on the small of your back and smoothed to the side to caress your hip. Another kiss, this time a little wetter, a little more intense was planted on your neck and you exhaled.

“Call me unoriginal, but I truly think you’re prettier,” he muttered against your skin, inhaling the sweet note of your perfume, his fingers squeezed the soft flesh of your side as he pulled you a little bit closer.

“I’m not going to lie, you also top that view by a mile.” It left your lips in a tone that mixed with your breath. Encouraged by his movements, you shifted your stance to face him completely, leaning your head back enough to give him the access to your throat, where few more wet marks appeared in no time. Then he straightened up, looking at your face once again and underneath his now darkened gaze, you felt the knot already tying itself up at the bottom of your stomach. There was something unreal with the way he was staring at you – an admiration stirring with the blue of his irises that surprised you. Why would a man like this look at you as if he wanted to devour you on the spot?

“Is that so?” He grinned, a smug expression twisting his features into a sexy smirk.

“I’m almost unsure if I can even touch you.” Your confession made him chuckle. His large palms left your waist only to grab your, much smaller hands, placing them onto his own body and as he moved them down slowly, you could tell he was just as toned as he looked like – or maybe more. Rock hard muscles bulged underneath your fingertips, fueling the want you already were filled up with.

“I assure you, I want nothing more than your touch,” he purred once more, lowering his head and instinctively, you leaned in to meet his lips halfway, but he stopped right before they touched. “If there’s any hesitation, you can still leave, I won’t stop you. But when we start, you’re stuck with me until morning.”

You took a moment to look into his eyes. You weren’t sure if the nervousness that you still felt was tied to the nature of that meeting – you were here to have sex with him, it wasn’t a proper date with talking, coffee or a dinner. It was said from the beginning, he was very clear about it. Although the few texts that you exchanged felt nice, all he wanted from you was a fling and you agreed to that, but fact was, you’ve never done this before. Even with your previous boyfriends, it always took you some time to get intimate and here, you consented to fuck a man you knew nothing about. Part of you wondered if you’ll even be able to meet his expectations – a man like him could have any woman he liked and yet he chose you from the ocean of girls probably way more willing than you. The other part though, was already burning from excitement. The foreign adventure awoke something primal in you and if not for the last drops of composure, it’s likely that you’d already be bouncing on him.

“I don’t want to leave,” you nearly whispered, cupping the side of his gorgeous face and he pressed his lips softly to the heel of your palm. Your answer seemed to satisfy him, because after that, he closed the distance between your mouths, clashing them in a hungry kiss.

First few seconds were experimental. Satoru needed to see if you are firm in your decision, because as much as he wanted to fuck you unconscious, he also had no wish to force you to do so and for him, it was more than clear that it is your first time with a stranger in a hotel room. But when your hands reached up, brushing through his hair and pulling him even closer, he let go of all brakes.

The kiss quickly turned into a mess, teeth clashing and tongues dancing a fiery tango, while he already began messing with your dress. It was pretty, you looked stunning in it, but it would look even better off of you. Luckily for him, the fabric was easy to peel off and the reveal of a white, lacey lingerie set almost made him moan into your mouth. He forced himself away just to take a good look on you, and while he did that, you pushed him back. Gojo’s shirt was already mostly unbuttoned so he went ahead and took it off completely, throwing the light fabric away from the bed. Allowing himself to fall onto the bouncy mattress, followed your silhouette attentively. His own pants became way to tight, uncomfortably straining his brick hard cock in the cage of black cotton but he couldn’t focus on it too much, when you looked like this right in front of him.

Having just one night with him, you wanted to waste no time. You were sure that it’s the first time you’re doing this whole fling with a stranger, and the last time at the same time – there was, after all, slim chance you’d ever match with a man like him again, and the expectations bar is set up very, very high and you didn’t even know his name. Yours was written in your bio but his was hidden and during your brief texting, he told you that he’s not going to tell you any detail about himself.

For Satoru, it was safer – his position in the world of sorcerers was way to significant to risk anyone’s safety just so they can feel “connection” for few hours while they’re fucking. Knowing his personal information, it wasn’t all that hard to find him and last thing he wanted was some random girl searching for him later, possibly putting herself into danger or worse. But you… For some reason, despite every rule he had set with himself, he wished you’d know his name. He wished to hear you moan it later, to breathe it out, to scream it even. It’d sound like music, he was sure of it.

“Enjoying the view?” You asked, chuckling lightly when his eyes scanned your figure up and down.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, reaching to grab you and in just a second, you were on his lap, your back pressed to his chest and your ass sat down straight onto his crotch. Little gasp escaped your mouth at the feeling of his hard size and he exhaled as well, when you swayed your hips against him. His hands began roaming all over your body, tracing patterns all over your skin and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts in his large palms. He smeared wet kisses along your neck and shoulders, your jaw and back; the softest whines and whimpers escaping his mouth as you grinded gently against his clothed cock. You could tell he’s big, it only fitted for his dick to be as impressive as the rest of him and you could feel your mouth watering just at the thought of him. Some part of your brain still couldn’t believe that you had this man only to yourself for that night. It really was a win, you’d have to buy your bestie a coffee next time you see her.

The way you moved your hips against his pants made Satoru lose his mind. It’s been years since he felt like he could finish in his boxers without even being properly touched, like a horny teenager watching some stupid sex scene in the movie and way you were awakening his entire body made him euphoric.

“Fuck, so big,” you muttered, reaching back to palm him through his trousers.

“Wanna taste it?” He offered and it surprised him how fast you were on your knees, not caring at all about the hard wooden floors that will surely bruise you harshly. While your dainty fingers worked the belt, button and the zipper of his pants, you took that time to press some wet kisses onto his stomach, that you were convinced, the gods carved themselves from the finest marble.

His cock sprung free the moment you pulled down the fabrics of his trousers and underwear, the tip of it hit the hard muscle of his abs and the sheer size of him terrified you for a moment. He not only had the impressive length, but he also was girthy. The pink skin stretching around the veiny base, leading to the slightly darker tip, already leaking and angry from the anticipation. After seeing so many dick pics during your little trial of dating apps you were certain that nothing will really impress you and yet, he did just that. He was mouthwatering and so pretty. He wasn’t going to fit you, he was at least twice as much as any of your previous boyfriends – there was no way he’ll be able to push into you, but you were more than willing to let him try, and if he tears you apart while doing so, then you’ll probably still thank him. But that’s an issue for later. Now, you were growing hungry to taste him.

Satoru smirked smugly seeing the glisten of fear in your eyes. Not that he wanted you to be scared, but he couldn’t deny that it tickled his ego. Just to reassure you, he gave your head a stroke, smoothing over your hair as your cold hand wrapped around his girth, giving it an experimental pump just to feel him. Then you leaned in, parting your mouth and stroking the underside of his length with your tongue, from the base up to the tip where you swirled the tip of your muscle around just to then plant a sucking kiss there. He panted in delight, sharp tendrils of pleasure rushing through his body. There was something that indicated the lack of experience in the way you took him into your mouth and at the same time, he felt like it’s a natural talent of yours. You worked your way all over him as if you were devouring the most delicious, melting ice cream, licking the sides and sucking the tip. Where your lips couldn’t reach, you used your hand, pumping the remaining inches and playfully massaging his balls, absorbing the rewarding groans and whimpers from above you.

“Fuck, yes, so fucking amazing,” he was praising you, hand resting on the back of your head but putting no pressure to what you were doing. He didn’t need to, you were just perfect, he loved every single move of your tongue against his cock, every graze of your teeth, every suck and kitten lick. His head fell back, when the tip of him hit the back of your throat, his dick twitched and flexed in your grip and you took it as invitation to pick up the intensity. You pumped him harder, you took him deeper, you wanted more of his whines. “Oh my fucking god,” were his final words before he was cumming, white ribbons of hot seed shooting into your mouth as you stroked him through it, prolonging his release as much as you were able to. Salty taste of him spread all over your throat, some of it spilling through the corner of your mouth and running down your chin as you took him out of your lips with a loud pop. Once you swallowed, you made sure to lick him clean, your hunger for him still unsatiated.

Giving him a moment to catch his breath, you got rid of his trousers completely. The taste of him still prominent over your tongue when he looked down on you, grinning widely with a satisfied look on his face. He gathered the lone drop of his cum from the side of your chin and you were more than happy to take his thumb into your mouth, sucking onto it softly and cleaning it.

“God, you’re so nasty. I love it,” he purred, leaning down and grabbing you by the hips. With ease he raised you from the floor and put on the bed, immediately climbing on top of you. He didn’t need much to grow hard once again, just the sight of your beautiful body was enough for him to go all night. “It’s gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll look better somewhere else.” Mumbling, he was squeezing his hands underneath your back and you arched it for him, giving him access to the clasp of your bra. He took it off quickly, immediately forgetting about his plan to take the panties off as well, when your breasts bounced free. Your fingernails brushed through his hair, scratching at his scalp when he began kissing and licking and sucking at the plump flesh of your chest, toying with your nipples with his mouth and fingers.

His hand shifted lower, smoothing over your stomach and down, right where you wanted him the most. His long fingers brushed over your folds, still covered by the thin layer of white lace, now nearly translucent from how soaked it was already. You could feel his lips curving up when he realized how aroused you were, how you wanted him as much as he wanted you and having no patience and reason to touch you through your panties, he pulled them off with one swift movement.

Satoru found your lips again, kissing you with even more hunger than before. Allowing his digits run up and down your slit he slid with ease with how wet you were. You moaned softly into his lips when he began toying with your clit, circling his fingertips around it, pressing and swirling them, making your thighs shiver and tremble below him. You squeezed his shoulders, tensing repeatedly as he was abusing the sensitive bud. With every jolt of your body, you felt the warmth flooding your system, the euphoric haze overpowering your senses, slowly rendering your brain into a heated mush. It wasn’t that long since he began and already you could feel yourself dangerously close to the edge or pleasure. With every skillful circle of his fingers, you felt like he’s pushing you to fall down into the ocean of extasy.

Your eyes squeezed shut, you couldn’t focus on his lips over yours, so he moved his head to the side to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He wasn’t meaning to mark you but couldn’t help but to leave few reddish spots over the delicious layer of your skin. Any last bit of composure snapped as the orgasm overtook you. You came all over his fingers, your thighs shivering and your vision completely blurry.

While you whined and panted, Gojo found himself even more desperate to hear his name slipping off that tongue of yours and if the consequence of this will haunt him in the future, then so be it.

“Satoru,” he purred right into your ear. “My name is Satoru.”

You registered that, you really did, but all what left your mouth in that very second was an incoherent hum that made him chuckle. Moving downwards, Gojo quickly found his place between the plush of your thighs, giving your still throbbing, swollen clit an experimental lick. You almost jumped at the feeling, your oversensitive bud threatened to make you cum for the second time right away, but he couldn’t care less about you coming down from your high. Instead, he wanted you to dive down into the depth of euphoria and so he slid one of his long fingers into your clenching hole. Immediately, your velvety walls hugged his digit, your slick covering him completely as he began moving it in and out. He kept his mouth occupied with your puffy clit, licking and sucking at it, writing the letters of his own name right onto it with the tip of his tongue and you grabbed a handful of his hair trying to stop him before you explode.

Keeping your trembling thighs apart, he added the second finger with ease, pushing them as far as he could, curling them inside you and hitting the spots you didn’t even know you had. Your sweet juices were coating his face as he sucked and slurped them greedily, slowly becoming pussy drunk from the way you tasted on his mouth. If not for the way his cock twitched against the mattress, he would have happily stayed between your legs for the rest of the night, listening to his name slipping repeatedly through your lips.

Your second orgasm hit you like a train, catapulting you right into the outer space, and for a moment you were certain you couldn’t still be on earth. How else could you explain the white constellations of stars that were spreading in the front of your vision? Satoru laughed, satisfied and still buried deep into your cunt, drinking every drop he could, with his fingers still moving in and out of you. You tried to squeeze him with your thighs, to stop him from literally killing you, because you couldn’t take the third one right after the previous two, but he was determined to prove you wrong.

Slowly adding the third finger, he stretched you even more. The burning sensation made you cry out as he picked up the pace. Even his hand was a lot, his digits long and perfectly working along your sensitive insides. Wet sounds of your pussy filled in the air, accompanying your pants and whines and the filthy noises of his mouth abusing your clit once again. It took him no time to have you cumming again, it almost hurt with how good it felt, and he pulled not only the third release from you, but also fourth. You really needed a break. With a harsh pull of his hair, you forced him up and he chuckled with content. He was breathing quickly as well, completely drunk from your sweet juices, euphoria now flowing through his veins instead of blood.

He pulled away his fingers and a cute pout formed on your lips at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

“How sweet you are,” he cooed, his tone breathy as he pushed his digits over your mouth. You took them in quickly, licking away your arousal, before he retracted his hand and kissed you fervently. The tastes now coated both of your tongues in a filthy mixture of sex and pleasure. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yes, yes,” you mumbled feverishly, following his lips, yearning for the soft feeling of them against yours. You felt lightheaded, the world outside the bed you were in didn’t exist to you, all you knew and wanted was a man, a stranger from the internet that was above you. His strong, sculpted body caressing yours, his tongue licking its way right into your soul and his insanely attractive voice purring the filthiest things right into your ear. For that night, he was your one and only and for that night, you were his.

Gojo pumped his length few times, smearing the precum and your sleek along it before he pressed the tip against your hole. With lust heavy in his eyes, he slowly pushed in, growling lowly at how tightly you hugged him and biting onto the supple flesh of your breast just to ground himself before he cum prematurely. You gasped at the way he tore into you, little by little pushing himself deeper and deeper.

“Fuck, so tight,” he stammered, sucking on a breath as his voice broke off to a groan. “And I’m not even halfway in.”

You muttered something – babbled, unable to form anything coherent and the way you looked like your soul was leaving your frame woke something primal in him. Satoru grabbed at your hip with one of his large hands, the digits digging into your flesh with bruising force as he playfully grinned, counting “one, two” before pushing in all the way. You trembled from under him, arching your back and throwing your head back just enough to have him glued to your throat, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. Your clenching walls rid him of the lasts of his composure, as soon as he bottomed out, he began losing himself in the feeling of your body. He pulled out almost completely only to sink back fully, initiating the first thrust that pulled a loud moan from your lips.

“Say my name,” he pleaded, his tone underlined with desperation and lust as he repeated the motion once again.

“Satoru.” You obeyed, prompting him to pick up the pace. In no time, he was fucking into you with all the strength he had in his toned body, his knuckles turning white from the forceful hold he had on your hip. He kept you in place, your legs wide open and his thrusts unforgivable. He was ruthless, completely overtaken by the immense, absolute bliss of euphoria, the chase of pleasure motivating his pelvis to keep driving into you.

Your mind was emptied of everything that wasn’t him, the heated flurry of erotic haze overflowing your head and pouring down, pooling in your stomach. His pace was relentless, with every roll of his hips he stroked your walls just right, kissing every oversensitive spot inside of you with the delicious girth of his cock. It’s like he spoke in the very same language as your body, it’s like he was made, sculpted exactly in the way to fill you up to the brim with such perfection.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as the force of his hips picked up. The intense pace he’s challenged himself along with the crushing flexes of your pussy rendered him into the whining and groaning mess. Every needy flex of your walls made him go more and more feral, an overwhelming pleasure sending a hot rush of bliss throughout his nervous system. The very same impulses were jolting along your spine, sharp tendrils of hot extasy made you squeeze his shoulders and dig your nails into his strong muscles.

Satoru pushed your legs up, pressing your thighs to your chest and angling his hips in a way that has his cock slamming against your sweet spots. He was thrusting into you even deeper, although you didn’t think that’s even possible. The blunt head of his dick kissed every part of your insides as his pace began to stutter. It became desperate, fervent, somehow even rougher. Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. A prayer of his name was leaving your lips without your knowledge, steadily pushing him off the edge with every syllable that your sweet voice created.

You nearly screamed when the string of pleasure snapped, an orgasm overtook you in hot waves of bliss and he was quick to follow, gritting his teeth as he dumbly pistoned his cock into you, smearing slick all over himself and your thighs. The flexes of your walls made his head fall back. His slams slowed down, became sloppier and languid; the uneven movement that carried both you and him through the highs of your blisses. Your legs fell down and he collapsed on top of you, supporting himself on his elbow to not crash you completely.

You wrapped your arms around him, allowing him to rest on your chest to catch his breath. Your heartbeat was fast, erratic even and your vision was blurry. You were drowning in the ocean of an utter satisfaction and you had no wish to swim back up.

“Think you have more in you?” He asked after few minutes of calm. His muscles flexed as he was lifting himself up above you once again and he pressed a kiss to your lips. “I hope you do. We’re not done.”

That night you went few more rounds, each one seemingly more intense than the previous one. You lost count of how many times you came; you had no idea how many times he came as well. The sky above Tokyo slowly became lighter, the sun raised up from the horizon line signaling the beginning of a new day, but to you, the previous one continued. The perception of time was the last thing you had in your mind, when Satoru’s body was so close to yours. You were a mess and so was he, in a cacophony of lust driven whimpers and groaned praises, the wet sounds of skin slapping, the ragged grunts and shaky exhales, you two fulfilled the deepest needs. Souls stripped bare, bodies connected and yet still longing for more, lips never wanting to part from one another. All of that finally led you to the point of not being able to continue.

Your entire body hurt, your muscles were sore, your throat dried and your pussy aching. You were exhausted, feeling like you could pass out any second and thankfully, Satoru was just as tired as you. Breaking another one of his rules, the one to never stay in bed with his flings, he now pushed himself further to take you to bathroom for the quick shower, just to wash away the filth that covered your bodies, before laying you down on the mattress. He threw away the messy cover and laid with you, using the second one to keep you warm. Although it was day already, you still had few hours before needing to leave the suite, so he might as well sleep with you. You were gone the second you cuddled to his chest and he followed you quickly.

“Hey, gorgeous, wake up.” Satoru’s soft tone pulled you from the dreamland and if you were to be honest, you could wake up to his voice. Wiping the sleep away from your eyes, you raised up on the elbow to look at him. He was already dressed, somewhat pulled together, looking just as handsome as when you saw him for the first time, although his shirt was more wrinkled and the skin underneath his eyes just a tad bit darker. “Get up, we need to leave.”

At first, it confused you a little, but then you glanced to the side where the electronic clock was showing 9:26am. You should probably get out until 10, so the cleaning team can enter and prepare the suite for another guest. It made sense, but what made for a bigger surprise was that he still was there. You fully expected him to be gone before you open your eyes, you thought you’ll never see him again after that night, and yet there he was, waiting for you to get up.

To be fair, Satoru could have, and even planned to vanish before you wake up. He was ready to pay for another day in the suite only to let you sleep him off properly. He didn’t think he’ll even stay in bed with you after fucking, but if it was any other woman, he’d be out the door first chance he had – he never liked the awkwardness that come after the sex with a stranger. He hated those odd, pseudo-polite questions, he never truly knew how to act to not hurt the person and at the same time, not seed any false hopes, because he had no wish to settle with any of his affairs. But you were different, and he had no idea why. For you he was willing to break all of his rules, he wanted to be there when you wake up, to see the tiredness painting through your beautiful features, to leave the hotel with you and spend just as much time as he could breathing the same air as you. He hoped that maybe he’ll get lucky enough to kiss you one more time before parting ways.

You gathered yourself up, giving yourself one more quick rinse under the shower and putting on your clothes. You looked ok, considering what happened – the ice-cold water woke you up quickly. Smoothing your dress, and brushing your fingers through your hair, you left the bathroom, ready to get out of here. Satoru helped you with your jacket, handed you your bag and then put the dark, round sunglasses into the pocket on the front of his shirt. The day before you noticed the shades laying on the table.

“How are you feeling?” He asked in the elevator as he pressed the button with 0 printed on it, making the lift head down towards the lobby.

“I’m sore as if I just went through a triathlon, but other than that, I’m feeling good,” you replied in a light tone, smiling softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Amazing. Though I feel like I went through that triathlon with you.” His remark made you chuckle, and Gojo felt like the entire tension left his body along with the fear of the awkward conversations. You two went through the lobby with ease, he gave the keycards to the receptionist and led you out of the hotel.

“So, Satoru,” you began, looking up at him. In the broad daylight you noticed the slight lavender undertone to his hair. His eyes glistened even more beautifully in the sun, although for a moment you wondered if he maybe needed the glasses to protect those eyes. You decided against asking about it. “Thank you for that night. It really was incredible.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” he smiled softly, his fingertips brushing against your cheekbone and before you knew it, you leaned into the warm touch of his hand. “I hope you’ll forget about me quickly.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget about you,” you confessed, but smile never left your mouth. “But I won’t be searching for you.”

“That’ll be better for you, sweet thing.” Gojo sighed, realizing that he will never forget that night either. Before that, he couldn’t recall the name of any of his flings – sometimes he couldn’t even remember it during the meeting, but yours engraved itself into his mind permanently. But no matter how badly he’d want to continue this thing with you, see where it’ll go, he couldn’t. Being with him would make the rest of your life a constant risk, and it already was selfish of him to stand publicly and talk with you. He cleared his throat, pushing all of those thoughts away as he lightened his tone. “So, that was your first time with a stranger from the internet, huh?”

“Yeah… Honestly, it wasn’t even exactly my idea. My friend set up my account, apparently, I was too boring to be alive and in desperate need of some fun, or something like this. I’ll probably delete the app from my phone today though, I don’t think those dating sites are really for me.”

“I see. Well, I guess that’s dangerous to meet random people like this after all.”

“Also, how could anyone reach the bar of expectations after you,” you joked and he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, right, that’s reasonable. Alrighty, guess it’s time for me to go.”

“Sure.”

“Will you be okay?”

“No worries, I’ll get home on my own, Satoru.”

Satoru. He was right, his name sounded like music when spoken in your voice. There was some underlying care and softness to your tone when you addressed him, even if it wasn’t intentional. He wished to hear it more, he wished he had more time.

“Take care, alright?” He smiled, putting on his glasses. They were dark enough for you to not see his eyes anymore.

“You too.”

“Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Satoru.”

 He didn’t kiss you. The warmth of your skin lingered on his fingers as he was walking away, a direction completely opposite to the one you went. Fuck, he didn’t even hug you.

You texted your friend on your way home, telling her that you’re okay and deleting the hundreds of missed calls that she spammed you during the night and morning. You couldn’t blame her, you went missing for the entire evening and up until now, you gave no sign of being alive. You promised her to send a text yesterday, assuming that the date won’t be too entertaining, but turned out, it was. With a sigh, you threw the phone into your bag, looking up at the sky. It was blue and clear, just as beautiful as the eyes of a man that you were meant to never see again. It pained you, and you didn’t know why. You really had no idea who he was, all you knew about him was his name, his age and his length, but other than that, you couldn’t describe him as a person to save your life. You had no idea what color he likes, what food he enjoys, what movies he watches and what’s his job – you knew how he tastes, how he feels and how he kisses. It really was just sex. Then why did you feel so void in the heart?

“Yeah, yeah.” Satoru mumbled to the phone. It was Yaga calling, wanting him to come to work today even though it was one of not many days off he had. Apparently something happened, although he couldn’t make out what exactly happened. It didn’t sound so urgent, really, it didn’t sound interesting enough for Gojo to rush to school. “Yeah, actually, I’m quite busy today, you know?” He tried, but the yelling on the other side of the line only increased and if it wasn’t for his sensei, he would just hang up. Not many people had the privilege of scolding him so openly.

“Satoru, focus, it’s import-“

Oh, fuck it.

“Sorry, sensei, something’s breaking up!” He disconnected the call and turned around. He couldn’t see you in the crowd anymore, but rushed back anyway, pushing through the ocean of people. He really wanted that kiss. And that hug. And you. Even if that meant he’ll have to protect you for the rest of his life, he was willing to take that risk.

He found you few streets further, waiting on the bus stop, reading the schedule, probably searching for the nearest one. You were on the phone with someone, drinking water from the bottle that you probably bought on your way. Then the green vehicle approached and you made few steps to get in, waiting just for people to get out first.

“Y/n!”, he called, but you didn’t hear him, probably because of the phone call. “Y/n, wait!”

“Huh?” This time you heard something and stopped mid-step, looking around and searching for the voice. Once you found him, rushing towards you, your gaze lightened up and it only made him go quicker.

When Satoru reached you, his hands immediately wrapped around your middle, pulling you into his chest fervently and you cradled his face with as much of your hand as you could, keeping your phone in it still, with your friend on the line. You couldn’t care about her rambling, when he was kissing you like he just saw the love of his life for the first time in years. For that moment, you felt like you’re inside the low budget rom-com, like you’re one of those fictional characters that find love at the first sight – the ones that you always make fun of, because there’s no such thing as love at the first sight. Life is far from the reality of those romantic shows that young girls love so much.

“Satoru, what are you doing?” You asked him, catching your breath when he parted his lips from yours just enough to allow himself to speak.

“You might be in danger if you keep seeing me. Fuck, you most likely will be in danger if you keep seeing me. But I can protect you. I’m able to keep you safe if-“, voice got stuck in his throat, but the encouraging smoothing of your fingers on his cheek pushed him to finish. “If you’ll trust me and be willing to… We could go grab some breakfast, for starters. What do you think?”

“I trust you, Satoru,” you replied with your voice calm. “And breakfast sounds perfect.”

[affableramen]

They return home drunk ~ genshin impact men x you, the reader

Suitable for characters: Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato.

Tags: gender neutral reader.

Notes: I dunno what this is. Very silly.

You heard the door open into your house and you identified it was your long-expected s/o. You have been meaning to call him as you got occasionally worried. However as soon as the door was shut with what seemed a lazy motion according to the silent noise, you realised it was actually nothing to worry about. Your boyfriend just appeared to be silly.

“Darling?” You tried to reach him with your voice.

The door was finally shut, and the next sound you heard was a groan of disappointment. “Gah!” His heavy body fell against the wall. You walked out of your room and went to the stairs to have a proper look. You tried to suppress your laugh when you saw him in such a ridiculous state.

“Darling! What—”

“…No one loves me. I am so lonely. So poor and pathetic”, he said as he started approaching the stairs but of course, he had to not notice the first step and naturally bumped into it. The fall could not be called gracious as your man did not foresee the barrier. You immediately started going downstairs to lend him a hand yet he raised his palm and stopped you.

“I’m fine, I can take care of myself”, he glared at you with the eyes full of annoyance and shifted his weight to the side. “I don’t need help of some… heroes”, he spat.

The colder man held onto the staircase for a few seconds, heavily breathing, rubbing his nose and muttering something unintelligible before he moved up. There was such distance, such melancholy in the aura around him, that was quite a sight. You were left to wonder where and with whom he had to gulp so much. Seeing that the man did not need your help you returned to your room and laid in the bed. It was quite late, in fact. You grabbed the book you paused in and looked forward to seeing more cringe from your beloved, but incredibly drunk person.

There was dim light in your room- you had a weird habit of reading if not in a complete darkness. After all, too much light was bad for migraines, you thought. And just when you relaxed you heard heavy, long footsteps approaching your room. You put your book to the side and met the man with a curious gaze.

“I thought you did not want to talk?”

“I don’t want talking”, he barked briefly. His eyes, even if alcohol-hazed, were gloomily glowing in the darkness.

The man was going straight into the room, heading to your bed and as he finally crawled to the area, he unwrapped his outer coat and revealed his shirt, (unbuttoned on the top as if he was feeling hot, made him look sexier).

“Why do you look disheveled? You been with someone?”

“You fool”, he climbed onto the bed and shifted his weight on top of you, grasping you tightly and gently at the same time. “Of course I wasn’t. I just felt hot. How could I cheat…” gasp, “…on a gorgeous little prince/princess like you.”

You pulled your hand into his hair and played with some locks. A satisfied moan escaped his dry lips as his face muscles gave up and he relaxed in your embrace.

“I thought you were unhappy with something.”

He moved away for a sec and looked into your eyes deeply, and caressed your cheek.

“I am most unhappy with myself… Take a look at me closely. I am so loser, am I not?”

“No”, with a swift motion you got into a sitting position where both of you were in front of each other. “Not at all. Let me hold you, would you like it?” You were tenderness itself when you were with this man. It was only for him.

“Very much, hold me please. I only allow you to see me like this. You’re the one who accepts me. I cannot imagine my life without you anymore.”

“There, there… It’s the alcohol saying in you.”

The man shook his head.

“No, I mean what I say. No one out there understands me, not one… except for you. But loving you is my torture AND bliss; I hate that I have feelings for you. I know that I should not. I am used to distance myself from the people, I have long forgotten what it is like to trust… Being affable and friendly on public has nothing in common with being not hostile internally. I despise so much around me, yet I never let it be displayed. My people have to witness a perfect image… a designed, refined statue such as I present to them. And sometimes, this façade makes my inner feelings boil even more. Because I know how deep down I despise those I smile to…”

“Pookie… You are forcing these silly thoughts attack you again. I told you to get more sleep, but you always do as you please.”

“See? I am so selfish.”

“I did not mean that. I am only saying that you should consider my advice… once in a while.”

“You are too caring, baby. You deserve a better man, less troublesome.”

“Let me choose for myself”, you brushed his cheek with the back of your hand. “Besides, if you had these pent-up feelings, you know you can always come to me for a little chat.”

“I see… But I did not wish you to tolerate the pathetic condition that I am in,” he laughed at himself. “Well, this one ain’t better. This one might be even worse.”

“I don’t mind your ‘pathetic’ condition. You look rather charming, love.”

The man leaned towards you placing his head on your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against you. As you put your hand over his hair, caressing it once more, you heard silent, yet calm breathing.

“Uh, the alcohol got him.”

Attempting to not disturb the peaceful sleep of your darling, you deliberately pushed him back onto your bed, making sure the pillows were comfortably enough beneath his head, and covered him with the duvet.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

[ratcash-wasgud]

Absolutely love your fics! Could we request a loser Mizu getting caught touching herself and when she tries to play it off coolly, the other person is like "Huh? No I want to watch you"

Bless you for this one, lovely.

mdni

Travelling with you was hard to describe. On one hand, Mizu liked your company, even if she never showed it. You were always there to brighten her day, stich her up, or flick her nose playfully when she felt moody.

On the other hand though...

You made her crazy. Maybe Mizu got too into the role of a man, but she caught herself lusting over you. It was embarassing, honestly. Watching your kimono slightly open as you bend down, revealing your cleavage, or staring at your legs that poked out of your clothing as you slept for hours was slowly taking a toll on her.

She couldn't concentrate anymore. At moments, she knew you were a demon sent to tempt her into wandering off her path...but she also knew that she was also a demon. So would it be that bad to indulge?

You were kind, always, maybe playfully teasing sometimes, but never mean, so in her head, you wouldn't reject Mizu if she came onto your with her intentions.

But, that would also mean revealing the fact that she is a woman, and that would be troublesome. You probably wouldn't trust her with your protection anymore. Or would just straight up feel betrayed.

So, she came up with a plan.

"Here," She stuffed a small bag of golden coins in your palm. "We're running out on food. Go into the town at the end of the forest, and buy some." She says, completely deadpan.

Your face lights up, happy that she finally trusts you enough with a task, even if it's little. "You got it!" You say, surpressing the urge to skip there, so you just powerwalk away, your face beaming with excitement.

But the moment you're out of sight though...Mizu finally lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

She needs to be rid of these desires, she needs to focus on her task instead of your skin. She needs to let her desires run free, free out of her system. Once will do.

She sits down at the foot of a tree, placing her hat beside herself. She doesn't know how to start, she just knows that she wants to hurry. She feels this horrbile aching between her legs for weeks now, so now, that she decided to actually do something about it, her body lit itself on fire.

She slowly pulls down her pants, looking shamefully at her womanhood as it's lightly glistening already. Her finger lightly traced the shape of her clitoris, before running it between her folds, reaching her entrance. Oh, how sensitive she was.

At that moment, Mizu truthfully wished to be a man. She had a couple reasons. She could please herself with the simple motion of moving her palm up and down, like she knew was enough for most men, instead of needing to tease herself until her clitoris started twitching and her walls are basically panting for pleasure.

Her other reason was that if she had been a man, you could be here with her right now. You could look into her eyes, pleading for her touch withouth words as you show her the skin you've been hiding, but she has been longing for. You could lean back against a tree, your legs closed at first, shying away from showing too much.

Her fingers start to rub her clitoris.

But Mizu would reassure you, putting a gentle hand on your knee, opening the soft plush of your thighs, revealing your secret garden to her gaze, already throbbing with need. You'd look at her, softly panting as her hand would wander towards your folds, dipping a finger between them, to get a hold of your slick, that she could spread all over them.

She chokes back a moan as her hand moves lower, teasing her entrance.

She'd spread your folds, revealing your puffy entrance to her gaze, that was already breathing for her. You'd whimper small pleas into her ear as she'd rub circles around it, wanting to make you wait. Wanting to make you beg, to make you crazy with need. She imagines you'd wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her closer in an attempt to get her fingers inside. How needy you'd be for her.

She slowly slips a finger inside, biting back a groan.

She'd give it to you if you'd ask nicely enough though. She'd start with one, then after one or two thrusts she'd give you another. Her long fingers would kiss your insides everywhere they reach it, massaging your inenr walls, and quickly finding that gummy spot would force a squeel like moan out of you everytime she pressed on it. She'd seperate her fingers, wanting to stretch you out a little more. She'd use her other hand to gather the slick that is dripping out of you, and bring it to her lips.

Mizu adds another finger, and her back slightly acrhes.

Your lips would part, begging for a kiss silently from behind your moans. You'd beg for her to let you taste yourself on your lips. Your walls would tighten so much around her finger's, she'd think you want to rip them off. Your cute little clit would be lonely though, twitching by itself. Mizu would never foget about it. She'd slowly lean down, her fingers still pumping in and out of you, as her tounge would slowly meet your needy nub, pressing it's warmness against it.

She curls her fingers inside herself, moving her other hand to her clit.

You'd cry out, grabbing her hair with your weakly trembling fingers, signaling that you want more. More of the pleasure she's giving you. More of her. She'd feel your sweet juices on her tongue coming in bigger waves. You were close, she could feel it.

She was close. She could feel it.

But still...she needed more.

"Mi...zu?" Your voice breaks her out of her trance of lust, her eyes darting into yours. Fuck. You didn't just catch her touching herself, but you also caught her. The fact that she's not a man is also out of the bag. Let's not panic though.

"Hey." Mizu answers, her voice breathy as her fingers stop on herself. She pulls out slowly, making sure not to draw a reaction from herself. It's fine. She can play this off. She didn't just masturbate to the thought of making love to you, it's fine. "What?" She asks, raising an eyebrow, trying to be as casually as she could.

"Why did you stop?" You ask, tilting your head and stepping closer.

What? Mizu watches in awe as you walk right up to her, and sit right infront of her. Your gaze fell on her still exposed folds and she felt her breath hitch. What does this all mean? Do you want to join her? Or...

"Come on, it's okay...continue." You say with a smile, putting your hands on her knees, opening them back up.

"Wha...you..." Mizu blinked, confused out of her mind.

"Continue." You repeat, your gaze getting more intense. "I'll just watch." You offer a smile.

That was...weirdly hot. Mizu could feel your gaze burning a hole into her...well, hole, an that just made more slick drip out of her. She hesitantly pushes her fingers back inside, moving them slowly.

Her breath got heavy again, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from yours. You weren't looking back into her eyes, your gaze was focused on her hand, as she moved it inside herself.

She was embarassed out of her mind, but somehow it felt okay. Because it was you.

Just the thought of you watching her somehow made her more aroused that ever.

"What are you thinking about?" You whisper with a smile, watching as her slick dripped down her inner thighs, wetting the ground.

Mizu quietly moaned. "Y...you." Mizu admits in the form of a murmur, swallowing thickly. She breathed through her mouth fully now, her knees lightly shaking.

"Yeah?" You smirk at her, your voice low and a little raspy. "What about me?"

"Want to...be with you...s'bad..." Mizu murmurs between quiet moans, her fingers now pumping faster, keeping them deep inside, never pulling out too much. "Want to...feel you...y'make me...fuckin'..."

"It's okay," You coo at her as you see her body shaky, probably because she's close. She's so cute like this, it's hard to imagine that she's a revenge fueled murderer. "Let it out." You softly caress her knee and lower thigh.

Mizu's moans slowly got louder, biting on her lip to try to silence herself. But she wanted to be loud. She loved to be loud. She wnated to be loud so you could hear it.

She wishe you'd touch her though. She felt very excited under your gaze, but she really wanted your fingers to come into play and calm herself down.

She clsoed her mouth thightly as she felt the waves of her orgasm, but your hand, coming out of nowhere, opened her mouth, pulling her chin down, freeing that cry like moan that wanted to escape her lips.

"Mhm...that's it." You cooed at her as she rode out her climax. She panted, staring at your eyes that were now, finally looking back into hers.

[reveuse-de-minuit-writer]

Knockout (Toji x Sukuna x AFAB Reader)

Summary:

Reader is invited to an underground fighting ring and manages to catch the attention of the two most dangerous men there. Theirs is a world of brutality and carnage, and all the reader wants is to explore how deep the darkness goes.

CW: 18+, Violence, blood and gore, explicit rough sex, m/m/f, breath play, overstimulation, BDSM elements, edging, face-fucking, double penetration, squirting, alcohol, weed.

Full tags and complete work on AO3 here: x

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CH. 1

Two fighters dance in the makeshift ring. The big one, a veritable mountain of a man with a curling top-knot and vicious scar slashing through his left eye, is the first to break their stalemate. 

Instead of rushing his opponent, or doing literally anything that would have made sense in an underground fighting ring, the mountain man begins dancing to the music. His opponent hesitates as they watch him in confusion, before narrowing his eyes in contempt. It’s clear the smaller fighter takes his opponent's interpretive dancing as an insult to his capabilities. 

The smaller fighter charges forward, rushing in close to cut off the mountain man’s odd thrusting and grinding as he dances to a beat in his head. As the smaller fighter raises his fist to swing, the mountainous fighter twirls into a powerful roundhouse kick that sends the other man flying across the ring.

The collision is impactful enough that it leaves a crater in the cement where the smaller fighter's body makes contact. He flops against the cement, and his head bounces with a splattering thud.  

His body goes still. 

The countdown to ten begins, but the only thing that moves is the pool of blood as it grows around the impact zone from the fighter’s head. 

Before the countdown even hits zero, the mountainous fighter is doing a victory dance. He wildly thrusts his hips and twirls around with a genuinely surprising grace given his sheer size. The announcer interrupts the fighter’s dance by grabbing around his thick wrist, and hoists his hand high in the air.

“And the winner is AOIII TODOOO!” The announcer declares into the microphone.

The roar of the crowd is deafening in my ears as they cheer at the mountain-man’s victory. 

“Well that was quite the spectacle,” I say to my friend Shogo to my right. 

He snickers, “Well I can’t say I wasn’t entertained. Twinkle-toes certainly knows how to put on a show.”

“Is he dead?” I ask with a grimace. 

Shogo polishes off the last of his drink before exhaling obnoxiously, “Nah, he’s just out cold. Todo doesn’t fight like that. Dude’s a monster, but he’s too soft to straight up fight someone to the death.”

“Ah, that's good then.”

I take a sip of my cold margarita, and it’s the cooling balm I need against the heat of the arena. The space is small but densely packed, and I can feel the humidity clinging atop my body like a second skin. 

The music that plays is the winner’s choice, and I can’t stop myself from smirking as idol music pours from the speakers into the underground arena.

To call the space an arena at all is generous. It’s really just a basement warehouse, but it serves its purpose well enough. The seats are a mix of metal folding chairs and benches stolen from abandoned stadiums that somehow managed to avoid demolition. There are shipping containers surrounding the walls which people use to sit and watch the fight. Shogo and I have done the same, sprawling out on top of a picnic blanket to cushion us from the cold, corrugated metal. The ring itself is just an empty expanse of concrete indicated only by the ropes outlining its circumference. 

Despite how ramshackle everything looks, two projectors display a live feed of the ring on the wall. They function like the screens in a legitimate arena, and I’ve found myself grateful for them many times already, since the tighter grapples and quick jabs can sometimes be hard to see. The instant replays and fight tracking from the dedicated staff are genuinely very well done for what they have to work with. 

Overall, the arena is not much, but it’s also more than good enough. 

Considering the cash that’s pulled in from each fight, I had expected more. But this is a place people pay to watch fighters get brutalized, not sip their overpriced drinks from their box seats. There are a couple hundred people watching, but the livestreams online rack up views in the tens of thousands easily. That’s where the real money is.

As my eyes scan the arena, I can't help but notice the contrast between Shogo and I and the rest of the spectators. The two six-packs of canned margaritas we share atop our bright pastel blanket stand out amongst the beer cans and cigarette butts. Shogo’s dedication to maximalist street fashion paints a vivid pink contrast to the black cargo pants and combat boots of the male-dominated crowd. 

I’m not much better in my own tight white crop top and black tennis skirt, both of which seem like they would better suit a frat bar than an underground fight club. I brought an oversized leather jacket with me to help me blend in more, but I took it off shortly after the second fight from the sheer heat of the arena. Even without it, humidity clings to my skin like a film.

“Having fun so far?” Shogo turns to me and asks. 

I nod my head while taking another sip of my margarita. The alcohol has me pleasantly buzzed. I’m just floating on a happy cloud, as I sit back and wait for the next fight. 

“Yeah, a lot of fun. You’re right, this is way better than the pay-per-view,” I answer. 

“Right? Like you’d never get to see a guy kick someone so hard they fucked up the concrete. That was crazy,” Shogo says. 

I hum in agreement. 

“That was pretty gnarly. I didn’t even think it was physically possible to do that. The Todo guy must be like one of the strongest men alive,” I say. 

Shogo snorts. He opens up his phone and opens up the arena’s private discord. His feed is a frenzy of jokes and commentary, most of which are memeing on Todo’s eccentric dance moves.

“Nah, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Just you wait,” he says. 

“Who’s up next?” 

“Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito. That’s the fight I wanted you to come here to see,” Shogo says. 

I recall how he even sold the experience to me in the first place. I had just started taking up boxing classes, and it exposed me to martial arts and fighting in a light I’d never considered before. I had fallen down into the rabbit hole of a new obsession, watching videos of fights, both professional and amateur, until it took up most of my free time. 

I knew Shogo shared the interest. When he offered to take me to see a fight in person, I couldn’t turn him down. He had warned me that this would be different. That it would be more violent, and more ruthless than any legal fight I’d watched. If anything, that warning just made me more intrigued. 

So far, the fights were intense, but not any more so than what I can find on YouTube. While Todo possesses a strength unlike anything I’ve ever seen before or thought possible, he didn’t do anything with it that would have broken the rules of a UFC fight. 

Still, I find myself wondering just what kind of monstrous power the next two fighters must have, in order to make a mountain like Todo seem like fodder. Shogo doesn’t make claims like that for the sake of it, and my mind races with the intrigue of it all. 

“Anything I should keep an eye out for, or know ahead of time about their fight?” I ask Shogo. 

“Oh my god yeah, where do I even begin?” He says animatedly. 

“Give me a quick rundown from the start. Go,” I snap my fingers into a finger gun, and take an expectant sip of my margarita. 

“Okay so basically, Toji is one of the most powerful fighters in the game right now. Like I’m talking top three easy. He’s been fighting professionally for like fifteen years and has been undefeated for all those years except for once. Like I’m talking thousands of wins against one singular loss. Which is an insane feat in of itself, right? The dude is basically a legend around here. Everyone either wants to fight him, or wants to fight like him.

“But Mahito is new to the scene. He just kinda popped up outta nowhere about a year ago, but he’s been making big waves ever since. Like, the dude is certifiably crazy. On some real psycho shit. But he’s also insanely creative when it comes to his fighting style, which makes him unpredictable to fight and fun to watch. While his record isn’t as impressive as Toji’s, he’s still stupid powerful. He’s risen up the rank of fighters faster than anyone has ever seen before. He fought Todo, the guy who just won, about six months ago, and wrecked him so bad that Todo had to take four months off to recover.”

I process all of the information Shogo gives me. The thought of someone not just winning against Todo, but forcing him to take that much time off to recover, is nearly unthinkable to me.

“So basically it’s the veteran versus the newcomer, huh?” 

“Yeah exactly,” Shogo affirms, “but that’s not all. About two weeks ago a video got leaked on twitter of Mahito essentially talking mad shit about Toji, calling him washed up, a has been, too predictable, shit like that, you know? Basically said that everything Toji can do has already been seen and done before, and that he can take him no problem.”

“How did Toji take that?”

“Toji doesn’t normally do the petty drama thing. He just shows up, fights, gets paid, and leaves. So after a week went by and he didn’t say anything, everyone assumed he was just gonna ignore it. But then, outta nowhere, a video pops up on twitter like three days ago, and it’s Toji at a shooting range with a picture of Mahito’s face on the target. He said some cold shit like ‘a bad dog is better off dead’ or something like that.”

Shogo’s excitement as he explains the drama is infectious, and I’m already invested. I also appreciate how closely he’s followed everything, since it makes the anticipation for the upcoming fight that much sweeter. 

“Well shit. So this fight is going to be intense, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be crazy.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“I put three hundred on Toji, so he better win. He’s got 7:3 odds right now, so I’m not that worried.”

Shogo slurps messily on his drink as he drains it dry. His thumbs idly scroll through the discord, before he tilts his phone towards me. 

“Here’s the video if you wanna see it. The guy with the silver hair is Mahito. The rest are all members of his team. The dude with the dark hair, Geto, is his manager. There’s a shit ton of drama involving him too, but I can tell you all that after the video.”

Mahito surprises me. He doesn’t look how I imagined the man who won against Todo would look. He’s lanky, despite his obvious musculature, and has an almost childishness about him. Though the arena is loud, I can just barely hear the sounds of the video. Mahito’s crass remarks are intercut with sadistic giggles, and it makes my stomach turn sour. Scars lacerate his body in a patchwork fashion, making his skin look like it’s been sewn onto him. He looks like he belongs in a Tim Burton movie more than a fighting ring. 

But there’s also something decidedly off about Mahito. His cheeks spread wide in a child-like grin as he talks about how he’s going to kill Toji. His mis-matched eyes glitter in excitement as he shares his murderous fantasies of dismembering him and studying the inner workings of his organs. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose in disgust.

The video ends abruptly, and Shogo takes his phone back. 

“I was debating rooting for him because I love a good underdog story, but after watching that,  I think I’m team Toji,” I say. 

Shogo snickers, and continues to scroll with his thumb through his feed. 

“Yeah, no kidding. The guy has a super punchable face.”

“Maybe that’s why he got into fighting in the first place,” I quip, before my curiosity gets the better of me, “What was the drama with the other guy?”

“Okay so the full backstory begins with Toji and this guy named Gojo. Gojo is, without a doubt, the strongest fighter in the world, no cap. Like legit or otherwise, professional or amateur, it doesn’t matter. If you put him in the ring, he will win every single time. Only one other guy is on his level, Sukuna. He’s not called the King of Fighters for no reason. But he’s not relevant to the story, so put a pin in that for now. 

“So about ten years ago, Toji challenged Gojo. At the time, Gojo was just a teenager, and had only been on the scene for a year, but he was sweeping everyone he came across, kinda like Mahito. Even still, everyone bet on Toji to win, since at the time he was about five years deep and undefeated. And the first time they fought, Toji did win. He beat Gojo so bad the kid nearly died. But like a week later, Gojo pops up out of nowhere and challenges Toji to a rematch. Everyone thought he was insane, since he hadn’t fully recovered from his injuries yet, but Toji agreed to it. In the rematch Gojo clapped his ass so hard it was devastating. Like Toji got beat so bad he was declared legally dead before they were able to revive him. To this day, it’s still the only time Toji has ever suffered a loss. 

“So obviously he didn’t take it well. He lost out on millions in bets, and nearly lost his life. He’s had a grudge against Gojo and anything even remotely related to him ever since. 

“The reason why this is all relevant, is because Geto, Mahito’s manager, was best friends with Gojo at the time. So because the two were besties, Toji fucking hates him. Even though the two aren’t friends anymore, it doesn’t matter. Since Mahito is being represented by Geto, and the circumstances are kinda similar, it’s safe to say that Toji was out for blood before the video of Mahito talking shit ever leaked in the first place.”

My head buzzes with this rush of new information. There’s so much lore to process, and it gives me a deeper appreciation for what will certainly be a monumental fight. The tension and electricity in the air suddenly makes a lot more sense. 

“Wow, who knew there was so much drama in the fighting community?” I say. 

Shogo slurps on his drink and nods. 

“Tell me about it.”

“So have Toji and Gojo ever talked about a rematch?” I ask. 

“Honestly I don’t know. It’s just kind of low-key understood that a match between Toji and Gojo would just end up in Toji losing again, since Gojo became an absolute monster after that. That fight is where he got the nickname the ‘Strongest Fighter’ from. Also, Gojo doesn’t fight much anymore, since there’s no one on his level good enough to challenge him and keep him interested.”

“What about Sukuna? Didn’t you say they were equals?”

“Yeah. Sukuna and Gojo have been talking about fighting each other forever, but no one knows if or when it’ll actually happen. Sukuna still fights occasionally, if he thinks it’ll be worth his time, but he’s good friends with Toji so it’s unlikely a fight between them will ever happen.”

I sip on my drink and think everything over. I had no idea there could be so much history in the scene like this. 

“Next up, Toji Fushiguro versus Mahito! The fight will begin in five minutes!” The announcer calls.

His voice booms around the empty warehouse, and not for the first time I find myself wishing I had brought some earplugs. 

Shogo mutters a brief ‘aha’ before tilting his phone towards me.

“Here, this is Toji’s response video that I mentioned earlier,” Shogo says, before handing his phone to me entirely. 

I press play. Toji’s back is towards the camera, and the immense sprawl of his muscles which strain through the clingy black t-shirt he wears makes my pulse pound. He might as well not be wearing it at all, for how little it hides. It wraps and contorts around every single well-defined muscle in the man’s torso.  

He’s enormous, with impossibly broad shoulders made to look wider by the narrowness of his waist. His sweatpants are baggy and sling low on his slim hips, but they still can’t hide the firm swell of his ass. 

His shaggy black hair covers his face from view. His stance is casual. He leans forward into his hip, which draws attention to the dramatic s-curve of his spine. One thick arm relaxes behind his back, with his fingers splayed wide. His hands are enormous, and serve to make the glock he’s holding look like little more than a child’s toy. 

The man had a body made for sin. Holy shit. Even without seeing his face, I’d let that man rail me into next Tuesday if he so much as asked. 

“What d’you do to a rabid dog?” Toji asks over his shoulder to the camera man. 

His voice is low and resonant. Even despite the low volume, the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine.

Six shots fire off in rapid succession, and Toji doesn’t even budge from the recoil. His gun smokes as the clip goes empty. The camera pans from Toji to his target at the end of the range, before zooming in. 

A picture of Mahito’s face covers the target’s head. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t seeing the bullet holes carve out a perfectly punctured ’T’ into the picture. 

The camera pans back to Toji, who keeps his back to the camera. He raises the gun to his mouth, and blows out the smoke still coiling from the barrel of the gun. I can just barely see the sharp cut of his jaw and the scar that bisects the side of his mouth. 

“You put it down,” he smirks. His voice is deep and husky, and the sound makes my skin shiver. 

Just as Toji starts to turn towards the camera, the video cuts off. 

“Holy shit,” I say. 

It’s all I can say. Because my pulse is racing, and my head is spinning, and my face flushes hot when I realize I’m dripping wet. 

“What’d you think of that?” Shogo asks, and plucks his phone from my hands. 

My fingers tremble slightly now that I no longer have anything to hold onto, so I reach for a new can of my margarita to still them. 

“I think he’s so hot it’s stupid,” I say shamelessly. 

Shogo laughs hard enough that a few of the other spectators turn towards us in mild interest. My face flushes hotter at the attention, and I gulp down a few sips of my drink. 

“I figured you’d be into him. Bad boys with more muscles than sense have always been your type,” Shogo giggles. 

I open my mouth to defend myself, but a string of my previous partners comes to mind, and I close it once more. I really can’t argue with that. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” I sneer at him instead. 

I cross my arms across my chest and pout. 

“Yeah, but I also like the good girls, so it all balances out to neutral. You’re just a freak,” Shogo laughs. 

My glare at him is venomous, but it just makes him laugh all the more. Eventually he raises his hand in a sign of surrender. 

“Simmer down, girl. There’s nothing wrong with bein’ a lil freaky,” he snickers. 

I throw an empty margarita can at his head, which he slaps away with a snicker. It falls to the ground beneath the shipping container we sit on. 

I think nothing of it, until I hear a loud, angry “What the fuck!” cry out from beneath us. 

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with panic. Swallowing past the lump of nerves in my throat, I tentatively crawl forwards to peer over the side of the shipping container. 

Right below us is the makeshift VIP section, with couches, bottles, powders, and more strewn about everywhere. There’s about ten people sitting around in total, all watching as a person with a short blonde bob angrily wipes down their shoulder. 

The can must not have been as empty as I thought. 

Mortification burns through me alongside an immediate pulsing fear. 

I’m so never getting invited back. 

If there’s any kind of crowd I don’t want to piss off, it’s this one. 

“Sorry,” I meekly call out to them down below. 

A few heads look up in my direction at the sound of my voice, and my face flushes hot under their scrutiny. 

But I can feel the weight of a gaze settle heavy over my skin, prickling it into goosebumps. My eyes sweep over everyone, trying to find the source of it.

“Fuck you, asshole!” The person shouts back. 

I ignore them.

One figure in particular, a large man with his hood pulled low, stares upwards at me. Him. I can feel him watching me, and I shiver where I kneel, and my hands grip tight onto the edge of the shipping container below me. 

I can just barely make out the sharp cut of his jaw, and the strange tattoos that frame it. He says something to the crowd around him. Everyone else laughs, except for the unfortunate victim of my drink who stomps their foot in frustration. I can see just enough of his jaw to watch the cruel smirk that forms on his lips.

Despite his joke to the crowd, I feel that his eyes never leave me. 

The sounds of the arena seem to go quiet as all of my focus narrows down to the stranger below. 

My instincts scream at me that I need to run, and I need to hide, because I’ve caught the attention of a predator, and I don’t want to give him the chance to pounce. My blood rushes in my ears, and sweat beads atop my body.

But the weight of his stare holds me captive. I’m helpless to do anything other than watch as his tongue traces along the lush swell of his bottom lip, before he flashes his sharp canines in a menacing grin.

I flush red hot, and a corresponding throb pulses deep in my core. 

The arousal I felt watching Toji’s video is a catalyst for my body now getting overtaken with lust. Molten heat liquifies my veins, and the headiness of the alcohol buzzes through me in a lethal combination. 

Mortified by my body’s reaction, I crawl quickly back to the blanket next to Shogo, breaking the stalemate between the stranger and I. As I collapse beside him, I shiver at the adrenaline that courses through me. The primal, instinctual part of my brain screams that I’ve just barely managed to escape, and that I’m not safe yet.

Shogo, oblivious to my inner turmoil, just snickers at me as I flop onto my back next to him and bury my face in my hands. Without opening my eyes to look, I lash out and smack him on the arm.

“Nice one,” he snickers. 

“Fuck you,” I grumble. 

My threat is muffled by my hands over my face, but I don’t care. I’m too busy focusing on breathing like a normal person and commanding my body to calm down from the sudden, roaring height of its arousal. 

Any response Shogo says is lost on me as all of the lights in the arena go dark. Loud bass pumps through the speakers, and I can feel it vibrate and rattle in my chest. 

Pushing aside my feelings, I allow myself to get caught up in the mania. The crowd around us roars in anticipation, and I join in, cupping my hands around my mouth and shouting into the blackened air. An electric tingle of anticipation starts to brew in my blood. I feel breathless, and I smile into the darkness.

This is so much fun. 

The music cuts out. A singular beat of silence, suspended in the darkness, rings out across the arena. 

The music blares back in with the full power and sound of the song. The lights turn on, and the ring is illuminated in bright, harsh spotlights. A man towers tall in the center of the ring, with his identity obscured by the black hood pulled low over his head.The crowd goes absolutely feral, but I freeze.

Oh fuck me sideways.

It’s him. The same guy from below who made my pussy drip from the force of his stare alone. 

The microphone he holds in his hand looks tiny, and I am surprised to see that his nails are painted black. He just stands there, basking in the attention and suspense of the crowd. 

My eyes trail up and down his body. Now that I can see him more clearly, my walls clench fruitlessly around nothing. The black hoodie he wears is strained tight against his broad torso. His dark jeans cling to his muscular thighs like a second skin. He must be another fighter, with a physique like that.

After a beat, he raises a painted hand to his hood. Instead of pulling it back like I assumed he would, his hand continues to rise until it grabs ahold of the fabric on the back of his neck. In a singular fluid motion, he yanks the hoodie off entirely. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Shogo yells next to me. 

Holy shit indeed. 

The man that stands in the center of the ring exudes power and confidence. He looks lethal, with his tight, rippled abdomen, full pecs, and broad shoulders corded with thick, deadly muscles. The tattoos that decorate his skin are thick, black, tribal lines that seem to carve out a path that accentuates the lines of his body. His messy hair is a bright pink, with a dark brown undercut. He smoothes his hair back with a painted hand and a sharp grin.

The tattoos continue to outline his face, curving along the harsh cut of his jaw, slashing across the bridge of his nose, and inking his forehead between his dark brows. His eyes glint with a dark promise, and the smile that broadens the man’s mouth is nothing short of sadistic.

The guys in the arena are obviously not good men. It takes a certain kind of person to want to fight so extremely, and to be so entertained by it. But as I watch this man raise his thick arms high into the air around him, basking in the feral cry of the crowd as it screams for him, it is obvious that he’s different. 

He’s even worse. 

After a minute of taking it all in, he raises the microphone to his sharp mouth. The dark chuckle that fills the air makes me shiver and my nipples tighten. I feel a throb deep in my core, and I squirm atop the firm ridges of the shipping container below. 

At the sound of his dark laughter, and before he even gets the chance to speak, the crowd is roaring again, showering him with even more praise and adoration. The man’s grin grows wider, and his sharp teeth glint malevolently beneath the harsh spotlights. 

“Alright, shut up you brats,” he growls into the microphone. 

I’ll be damned if the dark sound of his voice doesn’t make me quiver. The crowd dies down, obeying the command of the dark god before them. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He jokes.

The crowd goes wild again, and this time a masculine chant booms in the air.

Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na! Su-ku-na!

So this is Sukuna. 

The King of Fighters himself. 

He raises one hand high, effectively calling for silence. Immediately, everyone goes quiet. The man’s command over the room is absolute.

“I was worried that it’s been so long that I might have to introduce myself, but I see now that’s no longer a problem,” Sukuna smirks. 

There’s a cold mockery in his tone that betrays just how much he revels in the crowd’s adoration. His dark eyes scan across the crowd as he basks in the wild roars that fall around him.

“I have a surprise for you brats,” he taunts in a sing-song voice. 

I can feel the exact moment that his eyes make contact with mine.

I’m flung from my body. The air freezes in my lungs. The sounds of the crowd go quiet except for the ringing in my ears. My vision narrows down to just the outline of his body. That same force keeps me still, and my instincts are once again screaming at me to hide. His gaze is unwavering, and I am exposed before him.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna purrs into the microphone.

Shivers sweep down my spine, and I flash hot. I bite my lip hard, genuinely afraid that if I don’t, I might moan.

Holy shit.

The crowd roars around him, but it's lost on me entirely. I can’t see or hear anything outside of the tension that sizzles between us like a live wire. 

“Tut, tut, tut. I asked you a question, brats,” Sukuna snarls, and his eyes darken as they glare at mine.

While I know he says it for the crowd’s benefit, my arousal drips out of me at the sound of his scolding. His piercing eyes flash with a dark promise, and the look he levels towards me is nothing short of commanding. 

His threat is clear. 

“Let’s try this again,” he purrs, before pulling the microphone in closer to his mouth than before.

“Are you ready for me?” Sukuna roars. 

The sound of his voice is monstrous, and tinged with something entirely animalistic. If I thought the roar of the crowd was loud before, then it is absolutely nothing compared to the fervor of it now. 

Those same prey instincts are going haywire in my blood, and I can scarcely breathe for how tight of a grip my adrenaline has over my body.

I lick my suddenly dry lips, and burn in the heat of his stare, as I whisper, “Yes.”

Sukuna’s eyes grow dark with heat and triumph. 

My core throbs low, and the persistent ache of emptiness sweeps through me. 

“That’s what I fucking thought,” he snarls. 

His dark eyes finally leave mine, and it’s like I collide back into my body with a visceral force. Sensations flood in from all around me at once, from the sheer volume of the crowd, the stifling heat of the room, and the absolutely drenched state of my underwear. 

Immediately, heat flushes my cheeks. I’ve never reacted like this before. Though I don’t smoke anymore, I find myself itching for a cigarette. And another margarita.

“The lovely event organizers and I decided we wanted to make things a bit interesting,” he begins, a sadistic enjoyment sugaring his dark tone, “so to shake things up a bit, whoever wins this next fight, either Toji Fushiguro or Mahito, will get the honor of fighting me in two months.” 

“Oh my fucking god!” Shogo cries out. 

Based on what Shogo had told me earlier, I now know that this is a big fucking deal. The crowd absolutely loses it. 

“So with that out of the way, let’s get this thing fucking started, yeah?” Sukuna says, rallying the cry of the crowd once more. “May the best fighter win.”

With that, Sukuna passes off the microphone to the announcer, and prowls back out of the ring. My eyes are glued to him as he ducks beneath the rope of the VIP section. He stands a clear two heads taller than the crowd of people parading around him and clapping him on the back. Even surrounded by other fighters, he finds a way to make them look small. He takes a seat back on the couch, and reclines back like a king in his throne. 

The announcer picks up Sukuna’s hoodie, and tosses it over to him. Sukuna catches it with a one-handed grip, and my eyes dance over every ripple of muscle that flexes and pulls from the simple display of athleticism. 

Good fucking god, I need to get a grip.

“Let’s give it up one more time for the King of Fighters himself, Ryomen Sukuna!” The announcer cheers. 

The crowd roars again, and my eyes remained fixed on the man as he flashes yet another sharp grin at the never-ending adoration. 

He doesn’t demure from the praise, he basks in it.

“This headlining match is sure to be exciting folks. But first, what does every good fight need? The fighters themselves!

“First up, we have a prodigy in the making. Standing at five feet and ten inches tall, and weighing one-hundred-and-forty-five pounds, we have the scrappy underdog from hell itself, MAHITOOOOOO!” 

The crowd cheers as Mahito appears from the right-hand side of the ring. He all but skips to the ring itself, and the camera man tracking him stumbles after him. 

His team is standing just off to the side of the ring, and I recognize them from the video that Shogo showed to me. Mahito is as energetic as a kid with a sugar rush, as he bounces restlessly on the balls of his feet. 

Once more I’m surprised by what Shogo said earlier. Looking down at him, it’s hard to imagine him beating Todo so easily. His body is long and lean, and while muscular, he’s nothing compared to the solid mountain of the other fighter. But clearly his looks are deceiving.

“Next we have the legend himself, undefeated to all but one over the span of his decade-and-a-half long career. Standing at six feet and three inches, and weighing two-hundred-and-eighteen pounds, we have the fighter killer himself, TOJIIII FUSHIIGUUROO!” 

Whatever adoration rained down on Mahito, it pales in comparison to the roar of the crowd for Toji. I have half a mind to cover my ears to spare them from taking further damage. It’s clear who is the crowd’s favorite. 

Toji Fushiguro stalks towards the ring from the left with a predatory grace. He looks even more monstrous than in the video, and it’s clear that it didn’t do him justice. He wears a white hoodie that’s unzipped down the middle, baring his taut, cut abdomen for all to see. His white athletic shorts strain tight against his thick thighs, and curve along the swell of his ass. The tension in his muscles is coiled tight. With his unwavering focus narrowing down to Mahito across the ring, I can all but taste his lethal hostility in the air. 

When he reaches the ring, he pulls off his hoodie with short, aggressive pulls. He is every bit as impressive as his stats make him out to be. The breadth of his shoulders and narrowness of his waist are nothing less than superhuman in their proportions. His arms pull and flex as he balls his hoodie up and tosses it carelessly to the side. There’s a massive scar that carves a jagged arc into his left side, and it spans nearly the entirety his torso. It’s a gruesome scar, and I wonder what gave it to him. 

His messy ink-stained hair falls sharply into his eyes, but I can see the animosity burn in them all the same. His sharp jaw is clenched tight with tension, and the veins in his throat pulse visibly. His own team is speaking to him, but I can tell he’s not listening. His glare hasn’t moved once from Mahito, not even as the other fighter begins to prance around his side of the ring, hyping up the crowd even more. 

The projectors display closeups of the fighters faces, and the contrast couldn’t be more clear. While Mahito performs, Toji waits. There’s something about the dynamic that makes my blood race. Blown up large against the wall, the burning hatred glinting savagely in Toji’s dark green eyes is blistering.

My instincts scream that Toji is lethal and dangerous and absolutely terrifying. I almost feel sorry for Mahito, for having incurred the wrath of this god amongst men so completely. 

My pussy is screaming too, but for a different reason entirely.

The two fighters are called to meet together in the middle of the ring. Seeing them stand opposite one another makes the fight seem simply unfair. Toji glares down at Mahito like a lion staring down an ant. Mahito remains unintimidated, and smiles up at Toji with a wicked gleam in his mis-matched eyes. I try to remind myself that despite appearances, the fight is more evenly matched than it seems. 

The hatred that flows between the two sparks and crackles in the air. The tension is thick enough to make my breath catch. Almost absently, I crawl to the edge of the shipping container and sit there instead. I hear Shogo shuffle to copy me, equally as entranced by the anticipatory hostility brewing between the two fighters as I am. 

I can’t fucking wait to see it snap. 

The announcer claps both men on the shoulder, before stepping back to the edge of the ring. 

“No rules, no limits. First fighter to score a knockout wins!” The announcer declares.

The two fighters step back and slip into their fighting stances. 

Mahito stands unusually, with one arm ahead of him like he’s reaching out towards Toji, while his other hand balls into a fist low by his hip. His legs are bent low and spread wide, and he looks very much like a coil, ready to spring. 

Toji’s stance is also unusual. His legs spread wide, but he doesn’t squat as low as Mahito. His torso curls forward, with his arms wide around him, fists ready for the fight. There’s a confidence in the way that he stands that borders on arrogance, and the sight of it makes me fucking leak. 

“Begin!”

The two fighters are a blur of movement as they dash towards one another with tremendous speed. Mahito is the first to swing, but Toji is faster, and counters the swing with one of his own. His fist lands solidly in the center of Mahito’s chest, and the fighter goes flying backwards from the force of his punch. Mahito lands hard into the concrete below, and blood sputters from his mouth, drooling onto his chin.

Mahito is only down for half a second, before he staggers to his feet. A grin splits his cheeks, and the sight of his blood-stained teeth is chilling. He giggles, and bounces on his feet, before springing towards Toji. 

Toji lets Mahito dash in close. As soon as Mahito goes to throw a punch, Toji moves in a dizzying blur of speed around the other fighter, pivots quick on his heel, and sends a powerful kick to the back of Mahito’s skull. 

Mahito stumbles forward onto his hands and knees, and blood immediately begins to darken his silver hair. Still, Mahito giggles at the impact, and shakes his head back and forth. Blood splatter flies everywhere around them. Toji interrupts by rushing up behind Mahito’s exposed back, wraps a thick arm around his neck, and pulls Mahito back into a tight headlock. 

Mahito’s face turns red, as his hands claw and scrape at the thick muscle of Toji’s arm. Toji’s other hand curls into a tight fist and pummels blow after blow into Mahito’s ribs and kidneys. 

Blood sprays from Mahito’s mouth, but he keeps grinning, regardless. The pain he’s in must be tremendous, but he takes all of Toji’s blows with a smile. 

Mahito drops his body, deadening his weight against Toji’s chokehold. Toji leans down lower to compensate for the sudden increase in weight. Mahito uses this to his advantage, and springs backwards, sending both Toji and Mahito falling hard to the floor. Toji ducks his head inwards to prevent his skull from being shattered in the cement, and pulls Mahito in tight by the hold he has on his neck. 

With a sly smile, Mahito reaches into the pocket of his shorts.

My blood runs cold. 

In a flash, he pulls out a pocket knife, flips it open, and thrusts it upwards, stabbing into the arm wrapped around his neck. 

Toji’s eyes widen, and he reflexively releases his hold just enough for Mahito to squirm free. Toji’s hand grabs ahold of the handle of the knife and pulls it out of his arm, while Mahito flips over and moves to straddle Toji, pinning him to the ground. 

Toji just laughs, and dexterously twirls the knife in his hand. Mahito swings down hard at Toji, who manages to duck his head out of the way by a millimeter. 

A sickening crack echoes though the arena. I wait for Mahito’s bloodied hand to emerge, destroyed by the impact of his fist on the concrete floor. But Toji rolls the two of them over fast.

My jaw drops.

A fist-sized crater shatters the concrete at the site of the impact. 

What the fuck?

Did Mahito just punch a hole into the concrete? 

I don’t have the time to process the tremendous power I just saw. Instead, my eyes are glued to Toji straddling a squirming Mahito, with the knife trapped between his teeth. He storms down a rain of powerful blows directly into Mahito’s face. The first punch shatters bone, and blood spurts all over his knuckles. Toji’s smile at the sight is carnal. The second impact is more devastating than the first, and teeth fly from Mahito’s mouth.

It goes on like this. Hit after savage hit. Blood paints Toji’s hands crimson. His inky hair clumps down over his manic eyes. There is no thought behind them except for the predatory gleam of bloodlust. A sharp grin twists his scarred lips around the blade of the knife, and there is not a single doubt for how much Toji is enjoying himself. 

Mahito has finally stopped laughing. His head lolls back into the concrete, and his body goes limp. Toji grabs ahold of Mahito’s hair, and yanks his head up, continuing his assault on the unconscious man’s head. 

“Time!” 

Toji’s fist crashes down into Mahito’s face one last time before he leans back. His large chest heaves from a mixture of exertion and bloodlust. Sweat shines on his skin, and the blood splatter trickles in rivers down the contours of his body. He shakes his wet hair like a dog, and the sweat and blood fly around them. 

My thighs clench, and I want to lick it off of his skin. 

Toji spits the knife out onto the floor beside him. He leans his head back, and his triumphant smile into the air above is nothing short of beastly. 

With Toji’s head leaned back, he doesn’t see as Mahito’s fingers twitch towards the knife beside them. Once his fingers wrap around the handle, he flies forward in a sudden vicious arc that slashes upwards at Toji’s torso. 

“Gotcha!” Mahito giggles. 

Toji reacts quickly, to the sudden motion of Mahito below him, but still manages to get caught along the top of his right pec. He wraps a thick hand around Mahito’s wrist, stopping the knife from doing any further damage. With his other hand, he fixes a firm grip around mahito’s shoulder, and with a savage twist and brutal cry, he tears his arm back. 

Blood spurts like a fountain, painting everything in a sea of red. 

In Toji’s hand, he holds the severed remains of Mahito’s arm, torn completely free from his body. 

Mahito’s screams echo in the cavernous room. He squirms from beneath the bulk of Toji’s body, flailing his remaining arm against Toji’s thick thighs in an effort to get free. 

It reminds me of the dying throes a rabbit caught between the teeth of a lion. It’s a last, desperate attempt at life when he knows it’s coming to an end. 

Toji grabs the knife from Mahito’s severed hand, then tosses the limb carelessly to the side. He twirls it around once more, before viciously plunging it down into Mahito’s torso. With a ferocious smile, he licks his lips, then starts carving into Mahito’s chest.

Mahito’s screams cut off abruptly. The absence of it echoes just as loudly. 

When he’s done, Toji leans back onto his hips, and appraises his work with a sadistic grin. He raises the knife to his mouth, and his tongue licks along the side of the blade. He smiles at the taste, before plunging it down into Mahito’s head, right between his brows. 

Toji rises to his feet. He towers over Mahito’s dead body. Power and aggression pour off of him in waves. His grin is absolutely feral, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction. He wears the other man’s blood like war paint. 

He picks up Mahito’s head, and with one hand, he dangles his body upwards for all to see. 

What remains of Mahito’s torso is mutilated by a crudely carved letter ’T’. The roar of the crowd is animalistic. Men holler and cry out into the air, pounding their fists to their chest and stomping their feet on the ground. Toji holds the body aloft for a few more moments, before throwing it carelessly back to the ground. 

He steps back to the center of the ring. The announcer trembles forward. He stares at Toji with wide fearful eyes, before gingerly grabbing ahold of the fighter’s thick wrist. After a moment’s hesitation, he raises Toji’s arm high in the air. 

“And the winner is TOJIII FUSHIGUROO!”

My blood rushes in my ears, and my lungs constrict. Any alcohol in my system has all but evaporated, and I’m stone-cold sober. The primal energy storms around me, and my body tingles with the electricity and the adrenaline. My instincts are quiet, and I fear its silence more than I feared when it was screaming at me earlier. My mind is blank, but my body burns. 

I just watched a man die. 

I just watched Toji Fushiguro kill a man. 

And yet. For reasons that defy logic. For reasons that make me want the earth to split open beneath me and swallow me whole.

I am undeniably, irrrefutably, achingly aroused. 

I’m trembling from the force of the heat that burns inside of me. Absently, I grab my drink and chug it all down in one go. It dribbles down my chin and into my shirt, but I don’t care. I wipe carelessly at my mouth with the back of my hand and take in deep, greedy gulps of air when it’s done.

Toji’s team wipes him down, cleaning off the other man’s blood. I can’t process it. Mahito’s team walks away, with Geto yawning as he exits the ring. I watch as some of the event staff approach Mahito’s body, pick him up, and carry him out. Two others immediately start wiping down the area, scouring the concrete for every drop of blood. 

After a moment or two, it’s like there was never any blood at all. 

I watch as Sukuna saunters up to Toji and claps him on the back. The two men standing together look like giants surrounded by ants. I watch idly as they converse, and my heart stutters at the wide, sharp grin on Toji’s scarred lips.

I need to calm down. Now. 

My skin prickles, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My breathing stops, and my blood sings. 

I can feel them looking at me. 

I know it like I know my own name. 

I drag my unfocused eyes from the fist-sized crater in the ring, over to where the two men stand speaking. 

Heat burns in my veins, as my eyes lock on to Sukuna’s. 

Adrenaline pumps my blood fast, and all at once my instincts are screaming at me again. 

Run. Hide. Escape.

But I’m frozen. I can do nothing more than return his stare. Sukuna nods his chin in my direction while he says something to Toji. The fighter turns to look over his shoulder, and his sharp green eyes seek out mine. 

Oh fuck me. Fuck me sideways to hell and back.

The combined weight of their stares makes me tremble. Toji’s eyes light a path of fire as they dip to my legs and trail upwards along my body. His look is like a physical touch along my skin and it makes me shiver. My arousal drips out of me, and I press my thighs together tight. Sweat tickles my spine as it runs down my back. Toji turns back to Sukuna. He says something which makes Sukuna laugh, and my cheeks flush with heat and shame. 

They’re laughing at me. I’m certain of it.

What pricks.

My anger breaks me out of my trance, and I jolt back to life atop the shipping container. Shogo has begun packing up our things and stuffing it into his backpack, all while feverishly scrolling through the discord. 

I’m sure the live chat was going crazy after watching Toji Fushiguro brutally murder a man. 

I spring into action in a dull haze, helping Shogo pack the last of our things, before scaling down the ladder to the ground below. My body moves on autopilot.

“That was fucking insane,” Shogo says.

His thumbs are furiously flying across his keyboard, and I know his attention will be preoccupied for a while. 

“Yeah, that was crazy,” I agree. 

I’m surprised I can even speak, and that my voice sounds this strong.

“That wasn’t even a fight, that was a massacre,” Shogo continues, his voice filled with awe.

I hum in agreement. 

I was wrong before. Very wrong. Toji and Mahito were never evenly matched to begin with. 

“I don’t know about you, but I think I need a drink. Actually, scratch that. I know I need a drink. Several. You game?” 

I let out a hollow laugh. 

“Yeah, lead the way.”

“Yo, Shogo!” A voice calls out. 

We both turn towards a man jogging towards us. He has a shaved head and ink covering every visible inch of his dark skin. The piercings in his lip shine as he smiles at my friend. 

“Oh shit, Rocco! Good to see you, man. I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Shogo smiles back. 

The two embrace, before Shogo turns back towards me. 

“This is my best friend y/n,” he introduces. 

Rocco nods his head in greeting, and his smile is warm and inviting. 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, while extending my hand out for him to shake. 

He takes it with a grip as warm as his smile. 

“Rocco. It’s a pleasure. Any friend of Shogo’s is a friend of mine,” he says before he turns back to Shogo. “Say, we’re all gonna go over to The Alley Cat. It’s a bar about two doors down that way. You tryin’ to grab drinks?” 

Shogo looks at me for approval, and I shrug. 

We were planning on getting drinks either way, and it didn’t matter to me who or where we got them from as long as they were strong.

“Yeah, sure, why not. We’re were just talking about it anyway,” Shogo agrees for the both of us. 

“Cool. If you wanna give me a second to grab my stuff, we can walk over there together,” Rocco says. 

We follow Rocco as he leads us to his things, and I can’t help but watch as the two boys animatedly talk over the details of the fight. I don’t mind stepping back from their conversation, as my brain still feels like it’s only operating at half-speed.

I blame that for the reason why I don’t realize he’s leading us back over to the VIP section until he’s stepping over the ropes. 

My heart pounds as the realization sets in, and my eyes frantically scan the crowd inside to look for that signature pink hair. 

I try everything in my power to ignore the sting of disappointment I feel when I realize he isn’t there.

[beansnsoup]

The World We Knew

Summary: He was yours, emphasis on was. One day, you were in love, at least you were. The next, He was gone, and you felt as if your whole world had gone in shambles.

Relationship: Romantic?

Character: Loid Forger

Warnings: Angst, Long lost love, fem reader, but it's not a huge part of the storyline, Spy x Family VOL. 10 spoilers!!!!

Note: I hate to have put "blank" when talking about loid but considering the storyline circumstances and volume 10 we still don't know his name, like it was literally bleeped out in the volume itself.

Peace.

It's what the both of you wanted. It's what everybody wanted.

You had known him since you were kids, and you always knew it had been a passion of his to move forward with the war to gain the peace of every townsperson deserved. He wanted more with his life, and that was what he chose.

Out of everyone in the little group you had, you were the closest with him. He had always been so nice to you and never failed to make you feel included.

You weren't a big fan of playing war games with him and the other boys, but you remember one instance where they had told you to just go home because they didn't want you moping around why they were playing their army games.

All of the boys agreed except him.

He suggested you be a nurse. What would happen if they got hurt, and nobody was there to help? You happily took on this role. He always found a way to make you feel special.

When you talked about all of these interactions with your mother, she told you upfront that you had a crush on him. At the time, you were too young to think about having a crush.

However, as you got older and really thought about how much you talked about him and how he made you feel, it was, in fact, a crush.

After the bombing in Westalis, you hadn't seen him in years. You had always assumed that he was caught in the ruble of it all. You know that was thinking the worst, but it was completely possible.

You had decided to volunteer as a nurse for the war, the role you felt you were meant to be in. It just felt right to help out. Plus, if he was alive, you'd knew for a fact he'd be fighting in the war, underage or not. One day, you could see him again.

At the moment, you weren't placed in the hospital wing. You'd instead been sent to go provide food for all the soldiers, the ones in care, and the ones walking around freely.

"Wait... Is that you advisor?"

You overhear someone ask over the ruckus of the townspeople and soldiers, your mind immediately went straight to the first face you had locked with that name, but you knew it couldn't be, there was no possible way.

Even though you had been waiting all these years to hear that name and see that face, it just all still felt so unreal, you just couldn't bear to face the reality of it.

"Genral? Corporal? Major?"

"It is him!"

"It's advisor!"

"No way! It can't be!"

You weren't trying to eavesdrop, but it was very hard not to. They went on and on about how they attempted to search for "advisor" and how much he had grown.

This time, you couldn't help but look back, and they were right. It was him, and he did look the same. It took every strength in you not to walk over and talk to them, they were your friends, but it had been so long, and they were closer to one another, you didn't want to ruin their moment.

"Now all we need now is our nurse, and the whole gang will officially be back together again!" One of the men chimed in, if only they knew you were standing just a few feet away from them. "Yeah, I've been trying to look for her just as much everyone else, she's probably been on my mind the most."

The guys all hooted at this, you pretended it also didn't get a rise out of you while you still acted as if you were more interested in the fruits in front of you instead of the conversation happening behind you.

"Are you free this weekend? There's a great restaurant in the next town over!" The advisor proposed, trying to distract him from what he had previously said. They all explained what they would be up to but how they'd keep in touch.

You had turned back around by this point, but you could tell he was smiling as he they put together their plans.

You listened to them all walk away, then you're mind started racing,

"Should I have gone to talk to them?"

"No, it's okay, they wouldn't have remembered me."

"But I'd be with him."

You jolted back around, just to find none of them there, damn.

-

The war had long since been from over. It had probably been one of the worst moments in your life aside from the bombing you'd experienced as a child.

And after seeing all of your old friends names, all except for him, in the charts marked as deceased you knew wouldn't be able to stand another minute witnessing such torture. So now all you could think about was the fact that you could've spoken to them that one day, before they all passed, but you just couldn't muster up the courage.

But now you were starting a new life in a new area, and maybe he would finally leave your mind and just be a fuzzy memory that you joke about with your future children.

At the thought you hear a child start to laugh, you avert your eyes to the direction. She's a young girl, no more than 6 or 7 years old, and she has pink hair that reaches her shoulders, you smile at her excitement.

Moments like these make your mind wander into a field of imagination of the family you could've built by now. But you were fine with not being settled down just yet because you knew with how much time you had been working as a war aid there wouldn't have been any time for love.

And there was no time for love while your mind was still on him.

You glance down back at your book, reading the paragraph over that you were interrupted from.

"Papa! Look! Look at all of the cows!"

"Yes, I see them." He chuckled in response.

Your eyes widen, head jolting back up to the familes direction, that voice.

"Genral? Corporal? Major?"

"...She's been on my mind the most."

"Are you free this weekend?"

It was him, it had to be, there was no doubt about it.

You wanted to walk up and say hi, but you didn't know how weird that would be, considering you had once had your chance for a reunion but blew it. But maybe it was time, even if he had a child next to him, and she called him 'Papa.'

Yet at the same time, you didn't want to regret it for the rest of your life by not going up to speak and reminisce with him like last time.

You would have given anything for him to look at you again.

In that moment, you had decided that it was time, and you would see and talk to him again.

You put your bookmark in, saving your page and closing it, and just as you were about to stand and make your way over, a woman came walking out of the bathroom area of the train.

"Sorry I was gone so long!"

"Mama!"

Your smile dropped, and you felt your world collapse once more. You couldn't feel your face.

She was breathtakingly gorgeous. She had her silky jet black hair that was styled up and beautiful ruby eyes.

She's what he needed, what he deserved.

This made you feel sick to your stomach, but also ashamed, you had been fawning over this man for years. It was embarrassing.

You checked the clock above the door of the train, you didn't know how much more of this you could take, luckily there was only about 15 minutes left of your traveling.

All you could do now was fidget with your clothes and hands. You couldn't even bother to open up your book back up, you know you wouldn't be able to focus on anything that you were reading.

Once the train had come to a complete stop you felt a sense of relief wash over you, you couldn't stand to hear all of them be so happy together, not knowing that her role could've been yours.

You got up from your seat, beginning to grab your bags on the shelf above your seat. You had about 2 or 3.

As you struggled with the bags you didn't know that he had noticed,

"You two wait for me outside, I won't be long."

The two girls walk outside and sit on a nearby bench and wait for him while he helps you, you're still oblivious to everything happening around you.

"Miss?"

You're shocked to hear his voice, you drop your bag, almost tumbling backward but catch yourself on the seat.

He chuckles, "Mind if I help?"

"No, not at all."

You finally spoke to him, you look up at him, locking eyes, it had been everything you dreamed of.

His eyes go so wide, you swear they took the shape of a perfectly round circle.

"Y/n?"

You smile and nod.

He wants to hug you, he wants to hug you for centuries, he doesn't know what to do, this feeling that has just suddenly overcome him is making him feel like he no longer has any control.

There was no other way to explain it, he had thought about you so many nights.

Those nights when he was fighting for peace, he was thinking about you, thinking about how you when you were both still children and you would describe to him your future and the peace that would surround you.

"I-"

He's interrupted by a loud voice outside of the train,

"Passengers need to be making their way out of the carriages , the train will be loading more people soon!"

He rushes to grab your bags and help you off. He stops you outside of the train, a good few steps away from his 'family.'

He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's reckless, it could ruin everything, but seeing you just opened up something within him and he can't stop himself, he just keeps talking.

"I thought you," he pauses.

"Died?" You finish his sentence, smiling at him still, you couldn't believe this was happening.

"Yeah, that."

"I could say the same for you, blank."

Hearing his real name makes his heart drop a little, he hasn't heard many people speak it since he served in the military and his old friends addressed him by it.

He was glad you were the one to say it.

He sighs, a small smile of his face, "I've missed you, alot.

Tears start to threaten to spill out, "I've missed you too, alot."

"I love you, blank." You say without thinking, he doesn't flinch at this the way he did at hearing his own name, which you don't question.

He stands completely still, looking you right in your eyes, not being able to get enough of this moment.

The next words that come out of your mouth surprise you, "But it's too late," You glance over at his 'family', making eye contact with the little girl, who looks almost as shattered as you do right now.

You grab your bags from him and walk towards the exit, feeling tears roll down your cheeks.

He couldn't feel his face, he felt more numb than he had ever felt before. He hears footsteps come up from behind him.

"Who was that Loid?" Yor asks, Anya clutched by her side, with a sad look on her face, like she had heard the whole conversation, Anya blocked out anything her parents were saying to scan around for the you.

"An old friend," He replies, still looking straight ahead, thoughts racing with what could've been.

my mind has been racing with this concept, sorry for the damage i have caused

[archangeldyke-all]

i feel weird saying something so straight forward to a stranger but😭

do u think sev would be the type to suddenly start groping you in public 😳

like maybe you’re both sitting in the last drop, and obviously sevs playing poker or some shit, and maybe she just reaches a hand over and starts rubbing in between your legs over your pants, and maybe her cloak is covering what shes doing up🤭🤭 and even if someone did see, its not like they would say anything bc everyone is scared shitless of her

i think the sevika sphere must have hive mind because i shit you not i got this ask like within an hour of this one:

S-sev groping her girl whenever opportunity arises and her girl being endlessly turned on by it👉🏻👈🏻

hehehe

men and minors dni

sometimes she does it on purpose, but most of the time it's subconscious.

sevika just likes touching you! it's her love language! if you're within reaching distance, sevika's likely got her hands on you.

sometimes it's just your hand. sometimes it's her arm draped around your shoulders, or her fingers tickling the nape of your neck. sometimes, she'll sneak her hand into the back pocket of your pants and give your ass a squeeze, but most of the time she just puts it back there to rest it there.

hands on your hips, around your wrist, her arm hooked with yours-- she just likes having her hands on you. it helps her feel secure-- you ground her in a lot of ways, and when she's touching you she knows you're safe.

but sometimes, when sevika's subconsciously reaching out for you, her hands land somewhere they probably shouldn't.

like when she swings her arm around your shoulders and her palm falls on your tit.

or when she reaches over to hold you while you're sitting beside each other, and her hand lands on your upper thigh.

or it cups your cunt.

like right now.

you're sitting beside her while she plays her cards. she's completely unaware of your current predicament, chatting and laughing with the boys, mech hand holding her cards, while her flesh thumb draws circles against your clothed crotch.

you wonder what she thinks she's touching. she can feel your thighs clenching around her hand-- she has to know she's holding you there, but she's oblivious, the itch in her brain to touch you has been soothed, and she doesn't question it any farther.

so you have to sit and be cool while your girlfriend gropes you in the middle of the crowded bar.

luckily, nobody can see beneath the table.

luckily, nobody would even dare to say anything to sev even if they could.

unluckily, sevika's just ordered another round for the table, meaning she's nowhere near done for the night.

when theriam returns with a tray full of glasses, you down yours before he can finish passing everyone else's out. he shoots you a weird look when you ask him to bring you two more. you're going to need them if you're going to get through tonight.

ten minutes pass. sevika's hand doesn't move, her thumb doesn't cease it's teasing, gentle swiing.

twenty minutes. at one point sevika leans over to press a smooch to your temple. your cunt throbs in her hand. she has no idea.

at the thirty minute mark, you get fed up.

you don't know why you thought more alcohol would help you tame your arousal. it's only made it worse. beside you, sevika's got a cigar between her teeth and a furrow between her brows as she studies her hand of cards. she looks so fucking good you think you might pass out.

sevika chuckles at something someone at the table said, her eyes scrunching up with her smile, the little gap in her teeth revealing itself. that's it.

you reach forward and grab her flesh wrist, pressing her hand firmly against your cunt and squeezing your thighs around her hand.

beside you, sevika freezes.

you can see the gears turning in her head as she realizes exactly which part of you she's been groping. the cigar in her mouth droops as her jaw drops. her thumb ceases it's sweeping motion. her eyes grow wide, you watch in fascination as her pupils dialate.

she's still not looking at you. you quickly scan the crowd at the table. nobody's looking in your direction, so you lean forward to whisper.

"you are driving me. fucking. crazy." you growl against her ear.

sevika snaps back to life, turning to look at you as you sink back against the booth.

when your eyes meet, sevika gulps. your lips twitch up at the side, and sevika's eyes snap down to study your mouth.

"fuck." sevika whispers, her voice shaky. you smile.

"your turn's next." you say, nodding at the table. sevika blinks, her eyes darting to the game before looking back at you. she licks her lips.

sevika's eyes dart up and down your body, trying to soak in the sight of you before she has to focus on the game again. you can tell she's fucking you in her head, can see her eyes mentally stripping you of your clothes. you chortle, and stop on her foot beneath the table.

it's her turn.

sevika turns her attention back to the game, but under the table against your cunt, her fingers start wiggling against you. you hide your gasp by faking a yawn. two can play this game.

you slump against sevika's side, nuzzling your head against her shoulder and hugging her arm, pretending you're just tired and resting against your girl.

tilting your head so only sevika can hear you, you let out a tiny, quiet whimper. sevika fumbles with her cards and shoots you a glare. you ignore her.

sevika's hand joins her fingers in their movement, her palm rubbing circles at the apex of your thighs, giving your clothed clit enough friction to make your thighs twitch. you dig your nails into her arm, and beside you, sevika lets out a little gasp of pain.

"you good, sev?" ran asks across the table. sevika freezes beside you, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

"y-yeah, all good. gonna have to call it quits for the night. my girl's gettin' tired, gotta get her home and put her in bed."

a chorus of groans and protests ring out around the table. you have to bite back your smile as sevika rises from the bench, waving goodbye to her friends, then glaring at you when she sees you still sitting.

the second you're on your feet, sevika's grabbing your arm and dragging you out of the bar. you laugh the whole way.

she ducks down the alley with you in tow, shoving you against a brick wall and crowding into your space. you smile at her.

"thought we had to get home? thought i was gettin' tired?" you tease her. sevika rolls her eyes.

"fuck off." she mumbles. you giggle.

"you're so cute. so clingy you don't even realize you're practically fingerbanging me at the table."

sevika groans. "shut up!" she says, a faint blush blooming on her cheeks. you grin.

"what did you think you were holding?" you ask between your giggles. sevika chuckles, unable to stop herself, and shrugs.

"i dunno, just like havin' my hands on you." she says. "helps me think."

you melt, all your teases dying at her words. you reach forward and pull her closer to you by her belt loops until she's crushing you against the wall. her hands grip your hips. "give me a kiss." you whisper.

sevika smirks, and leans forward to press her lips against yours in a sweet, chaste kiss. you sigh against her, pushing her away before she can get handsy, taking her hand in yours.

"c'mon. take me home and put me to bed." you say with a wink. sevika laughs.

"oh, with pleasure." she says, swinging your hands between the two of you as you begin your stroll home.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3

[khalemchurstcomics]

TRIGGERED - Page 291

This may sound like such a minor thing - having a friendly interaction with a man whilst walking my dog. But this was HUGE for me. I would normally be completely on guard if any man tried to talk to me, even under circumstances like this. I just can't tell you how often I had been approached by men who were 'just being nice' who would go on to make me feel deeply uncomfortable (or become angry and abusive if I turned down their advances). This man didn't want anything from me and that was a REVELATION.

Maybe it sounds obvious that there are genuinely harmless men out there. I had been told that so many times in my life. But my repeated experience was that if a man wanted to interact with me, it would make me at best uncomfortable, at worst in great danger. It is very hard to believe what you know logically to be true (there are plenty of not-dangerous men out there) when it contradicts with your trauma (most men will hurt you if the opportunity presents itself). My complete avoidance of cis straight men was absolutely a trauma response, I know that. But what the EMDR had given me was the ability to face this interaction without immediately being transported back into my trauma, so that it could play out this innocently without me panicking.

Anyway, this page may not look like much, but for someone with cPTSD, this was a huge step forward to living a more normal life.

TRIGGERED is supported by my generous Patrons. To become a patron and gain access to hundreds of additional comic pages, head on over here.

Next page

Previous page

From the beginning

[loveshotzz]

A sneak peek of part one to make up for not posting today. 🎄coming 12/20

series masterlist

Moving with the flow of the crowd, the beginning jingle of Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ starts to play, and with the grand spectacle that the holiday decorations are every year, it’s hard not to feel all those emotions of nostalgia they’re trying to pull from you, making you roll your eyes singing along with her under your breath.

The big water fountain in the middle of the men’s department comes into view from the tops of bobbing heads, one of the many physical markers in this building you’ve had to use so you don’t get lost in the retail maze they’ve created letting you know that you’re close to your destination. Weaving through the sea of people, you try to gear up to break free from the human traffic jam, the signs pointing to the escalators in your sights. His panicked voice is what you hear first, an obvious friendliness still hidden underneath it despite the way it shakes every time you hear him say “excuse me?”

Your eyes search for the owner, and when you find him, regret buries itself deep in your gut when they land on his face.

A perfect mess of dark chestnut hair, with tips that look like they were dipped in honey sits on top of his head. The hints of gold hidden inside shimmer under the lights, as it curls wildly behind his ears. It almost looks styled that way, that is until you see his big hand run through it twice in the span of a few seconds. Warm brown eyes squint as he turns in a full circle glancing between his phone and the signs the point to the city street exits on either side of him. The hoards of people surrounding him completely ignoring his existence as he looks around painfully lost.

His nose is sharp, just like his jaw that’s dusted with the faint hint of a five o’clock shadow. The two prominent moles that sit side by side on his cheek stick out on his unseasonably sun kissed skin that seems to glow against the dark maroon color of his sweater. It’s snug across a broad chest, just like the washed out black jeans that fit a light too well around his thighs. His chocolate colored peacoat looks tailored to fit his biceps, with shiny gold buttons that match the buckle on his russet leather loafers, and the chain that dangles from around his neck.

You watch him try to ask a few friendly faces for help, only receiving a shrug and a half smile by the ones that actually acknowledge him. He mutters something that sounds sarcastic to himself as you get closer, his hands moving animatedly before he huffs pinching the bridge of his nose.

Maybe it’s the Christmas decorations, or the Mariah Carey, or maybe it’s just the fact that you’d rather take pity on a handsome stranger than go to your job. Whatever reason it is, you decide to make the stupid mistake to help him.

“Hey,” you greet timidly, getting just close enough to smell the cedar and cinnamon that seems to cling to the expensive wool of his coat, ignoring the way your stomach flips because of course he smells good right?

“Are you lost?”

He doesn’t hear you over the internal battle going on inside his head, not even registering that someone is finally stopping to offer the help he’d just been pleading for, quietly grumbling, ‘you wanted to move to the city, now you can’t even find your way through a damn store’ to himself.

You clear your throat before it can get anymore awkward, alerting him of your presence while letting your curious gaze wander up his tall broad frame. Those squinted brown eyes look big now as they meet yours, and you can see green inside them that you couldn’t before and it sparkles brighter than the tinsel hanging from the boughs behind him.

Yeah, you’ve made a huge mistake.

He blinks a few times, before a wide smile stretches across his face somehow making him even more handsome as he reveals a set of perfectly straight teeth. The smile pushes up his cheeks, and crinkles the skin around his eyes, and you watch all the aggravation from before melt off of his perfectly sculpted face and you wish you could go back those few minutes in time and abort the mission. This is no damsel in distress.

“Hi” is all that he says, peony’s painting his cheeks as he runs his hand through his thick hair again and it looks even softer up close.

“Hey,” You giggle, nerves taking over and you want to pinch yourself for it, “I just wanted to see if you needed some help, you look a little lost.”

You try to seem indifferent when you catch the way his gaze roams quickly down your body, thankful you did laundry last night and had on your tight fitting work slacks today that showed off your curves.

“So lost!” He groans, the blush on his cheeks deepening with the tips of his ears. “If I’m being completely honest with you, I don’t even know what floor I’m on.”

You try to hide the way you snort, slapping your palm over your mouth.

“Hey, be nice!” He laughs, trying his best to fight it to put on a hurt expression, “this is like, my first time here, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you try to fight off you smile, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you —“

“Steve.” He interjects with a grin, those perfect teeth biting at his full bottom lip as he sticks out one of his hands for you to take, a gold band wrapped around his middle finger you didn’t notice before gleaming when it hits the light.

“Well, Steve,” You try not to laugh, which ends up being easy to do when you slip your hand into his and watch it disappear behind his long fingers when they wrap around it, “you’re on the first floor if you can believe it.

“That’s fucking embarrassing, wow.” He groans, letting your hand go to run his palm down his face, and you hate that you feel the loss in your gut, “sorry I didn’t mean to cuss.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” You tease with a wink, enjoying the way it only makes the color on his face deepen. “Where are you trying to go? I work on the seventh floor. I might be able to take you on my way.”

It takes Steve a minute to formulate an answer to your offer, still stuck on the fact a complete stranger was being so nice to him, and the silence between you goes on just long enough to make you second guess everything.

“Or I could just try and give you directions if that’s more comfortable for you.” You offer, adjusting the straps of your backpack nervously.

“I’m trying to get to the women’s department,” Steve finally blurts out, sensing the shift in your energy and quickly tries to recover with another card through his hair and a crooked smile, “specifically the handbags, and I absolutely think you should take me.”

His gaze narrows the color in his eyes darkening into something more flirtatious than nervous.

“Who knows how long it’d take me to get there without a beautiful, clearly smart woman such yourself to help me anyway.”

Your stomach does that thing that you hate again, and all the heat in your body licks at your cheeks like flames. You can’t remember the last time a man actually used the word beautiful. Hot? Absolutely. Cute? Sure. Pretty? Yeah, a few times, but never beautiful. It sits in your chest where it blossoms into another painfully big smile that pushes your cheeks up even more, and you have to look away from his face for a moment when he matches it with his own.

“O- okay, if you just, uh wanna follow me?” Words get lost on your tongue and it comes out more shy than you would’ve liked, but you turn on your heel before you can think too hard about it when he gestures you forward.

You hear him mutter ‘are you kidding me?’ under his breath as you lead him to the escalators just around the corner, making him realize how close they were this whole time and you wonder just how long he was actually looking for them. The smell of mint hits your nose as you pass the Frango chocolate stand and it mixes with the spice of his cologne as he trails close behind. Butterflies threatening to break from cocoons hearing the way his steps match yours.

He stops next to you as you come to halt to wait your turn to hop onto the moving metal steps. You look up at him and there’s an awkwardness that threatens to fill the small space between you that has you giving him a tight lipped smile that he returns with the kind of confidence that makes your palms sweat and you have to look away.

“I say we make our move after white puffer coat comin’ up here.” His voice startles you when it comes out low, close enough to the shell of your ear that you swear you can feel the whisper of his lips. Spearmint stings your nose from the gum that snaps between his teeth, and the heat of his breath makes goosebumps jump along the back of your neck.

Why did you do this?

You meet his gaze from the corner of your eye, letting him see the playful glint that dances in them before giving a curt nod of your head.

“On the count of three…” You play along, despite everything inside you telling you to stop flirting back and it makes Steve’s whole face light up, long fingers flexing at his side with the need to find yours again.

“One..” He starts, and your eyes meet ‘white puffer coat’ who’s now only a few steps away before finding Steve’s again who’s stare very obviously never left your face.

“Two..” You giggle trying to hide the way your body starts to buzz and if it wasn’t for Steve’s giddy expression you’d be more embarrassed than you actually are.

“Thre-“ His final count gets cut off by the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his, tugging him onto the stairs early with a loud cackle that has you throwing your head back and he swears the sound tilts his world off its axis.

His cheeks dust pink under the bright light looking down his nose at you with a wide smile that shows all his teeth. An expensive loafer sits wedged between your work shoes and the other on the step above, caging you against the side as you ride up to the next floor, and he’s close enough for you to see a smattering of more freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and the side of his neck, even one on the tip of his earlobe.

He’s still holding your hand.

[bubble-tea-blossom]

Strong as an Ox

Joel x f!reader, 2.6k wc,

18+ obvi, size kink galore, ♫ if its not rough it isn’t fun ♫

<Pic is from joels6string on Instagram!>

One of the reasons you’re drawn towards Joel is his stature. He’s big, and broad. Tall with wide shoulders rounded with muscle, and Jackson’s steady and varied food supply has allowed him to regain some of the weight he used to carry before the food shortages began.

You’ve watched him shove debris out of the way that other men couldn’t. You’ve watched him one-punch Runners and men on a number of occasions, and you’ve watched him snap others neck’s which takes way more force than the movies will have you believe. 

When a patrol went south last year, and a hunter got the jump on Tommy and knocked him unconscious, the damage that was unleashed was nothing like you’d ever seen before. It was almost mesmerizing, it was almost like Joel killed with grace. It was animal like, in its ferocity, but not uncontrolled. It wasn’t an animal caught in a trap, going wild. No, it was like watching a wolf stalk and hunt.

You didn’t even have a chance that day to help dispatch any of the rest of the hunters, Joel took care of the lot of them. So you made yourself useful by checking on Tommy, and felt your gut untwist from fear at the feel of his steady pulse. Alive, but unconscious and most likely concussed. He’s gonna have one helluva headache when he wakes. 

You see it in Joel’s eyes when he runs up to you once the others have been...dealt with. He demands answers with a snap of your name, his usually soft voice, hard and dangerous. The leftover fight lingering in him revealing itself in his tone. Then you watch it drain from his body once you reply, “Alive, just knocked out.” Joel then does his own vital check to confirm yours, before shoving his shotgun in your hands so he can pick up his brother. Tommy isn’t exactly dainty neither, but Joel picked him up with barely a grunt.

Even though the fight is over and everyone’s heart rate is lowering, you can tell Joel’s still pissed. The dregs of whatever came over him are still there, and you wonder if they ever completely leave. You wonder perhaps a little selfishly, since you find that side of Joel Miller almost as attractive as the soft, doting side you’ve grown to know and indulge in as often as you can these days now that you two have your...thing going. Whatever it is. 

Anyways, sometimes a girl wants to get thrown around a little. Good thing you happen to be fucking someone who very easily could. Only thing is Joel has only ever touched you with tenderness, and adoration. Gosh, your life is so hard.

And then one day you work up the nerve to voice a certain fantasy you’d been having for awhile, before you and him even started fucking but you aren’t going to mention that.

Your confession is set to the backdrop of the forgotten movie playing behind you, while you grind yourself against his denim clad thigh, thick with tense muscle. You pull your lips from his so you can catch your breath and gather the courage, one hand resting on a wide shoulder, the other fiddling with the open button on his shirt. 

You clear your throat, “Joel? Can I ask you something?” You find you’re speaking to his button rather than to him, but he immediately encourages you,

“Anything, sweetheart.” He reassures with a brush of hair behind your ear. The touch so soft it almost tickles.

“I was wondering, if you’re down, can you be...” your words falls off as your nerve wavers, but you’re a big girl that can ask for what she wants so you take a little breath and then blunder through it, “Can you be rough with me?”

Instead of answering, you feel Joel’s finger tip your chin up so you meet his eyes. They’re dark, the pupils blown wide, his hair sticks straight out on the side where you’d been grabbing it. He doesn’t look disgusted or judgmental, maybe you should start believing him when he says you can tell him anything.

“How rough?” Is all he says, his voice lower than normal, a tiny bit hoarse.

Staring into his eyes helps you keep your courage, feeling your brain spark with dopamine just looking at him.

“As rough as you can kinda thing. I want you to use me, and not stop even if I beg.”

You see his brows twitch up in surprise before settling into a slight frown, “I don’t wanna hurt you.” He says.

“Well what I mean is sometimes I get overwhelmed but in a good way, right? And I want you to keep going, but if it hurts we can have a safe word I’ll say and we stop.”

Joel’s eyes flick from yours as he thinks, and you start preparing yourself to hear him decline your request, which he has every right to, so you prep for looking not disappointed. Then he says, “What would the word be?”

You perk up in his lap and cast a glance around the room, settling on the guitar in the corner.

“What about string.”

You see his brow arch this time, and you say in supply, “And if I forget it, if I say some completely random word, that means stop for real, too.”

Joel thinks for another moment before giving you a quick kiss between the eyes, “Lemme think about it.”

You smile and nod, your smile growing when he kisses you again.

---

That was a couple weeks ago, and you’ve had a few other conversations about the subject, which mostly looked like Joel quizzing you about the things you’re interested in. But the last time the subject was broached was an ever increasing amount of days ago, and to save yourself from the embarrassment, you’ve shoved the thought of it to the very back of your mind.

Then one night when you’re over at his place, enjoying each other’s company when the night is interrupted by urgent knocking at the door. You both sit up on the couch and you take your leave up the stairs before Joel opens the door to maintain privacy. Nobody really knows about you and Joel, and for the moment you’d prefer that.

Upstairs, in his room, you wait until he lets you know it’s good to come out, and you don’t have to wait long at all. You hear his footsteps jog up the stairs and then the door is being swung open, and he’s rushing to where he keeps his revolver, speaking quick words about needing to leave real quick, he’ll be back as soon as he can, there’s no need to worry. Then he’s gone.

You wait for hours, the longer the time wears on the more worried you grow despite your effort to squash it. Lucky for you, Joel has a very nice home, and you make yourself acquainted with his bookshelf. The afternoon wears into the evening, into night. You’re on your back along the length of his couch, reading when he finally opens the front door. You spring up and cross the threshold to him while he closes and locks the door behind him.

“Everything ok?” You ask, and your brain runs through all the different disaster scenarios its conjured up with over the last couple of hours.

Joel just nods, closing the gap between you, taking a hold of your shoulders so he can run his hands over you, drawing comfort in your touch. You clasp his arms in turn and lean your head against his chest, and bask in his attention and trust that he’ll speak when he needs to. You see no blood, bruising, and you smell no gunpowder, so things can take their time.

And then one hand of his travels up to cup your chin and gently tip it up so your eyes meet his. Then he speaks low, “Remember your special word?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod confidently, “String.” You feel your heart in your throat with a sudden rush of excitement, and you see a small smile flash across his lips. He keeps his hand on your jaw and slowly slide it down to rest wrapped around your throat. You feel your stomach buzz at the sensation, his thumb stroking up and down the soft skin of your throat. Then you feel your eyes cross briefly when he tightens his hold on you, just hard enough to feel pressure, feel the weight of his strength. It’s claiming hold, and the thought has you wetting your dry lips, you can see his eyes darken at the sign of your arousal.

The next thing you feel is his lips against yours, the two of you falling into a rhythm of short, frantic kisses. His hold travels your body, grasping yours hips to pull you against him, squeezing your ass and grabbing your hair to control your head.

You’ve never felt his touch so controlling before, hard and demanding. And you stand there, trying to keep up with kisses and relinquish control over, feeling a freeing safety net be cast over you. Your trust in Joel was exhilarating, you could give him complete control and not have to worry, you can just be loved on.

So when he says “Arms up” you do so, giddy smile on your face while he rucks up your shirt and bra, tossing them aside. You sigh in relief when he cups your breasts, thumbing over your nipples.

“Feels good, doll?” He practically purrs, and you nod enthusiastically.

Then he brings one of your knees on his hip, and with you off balance he easily brings you down to the ground, keeping you literally caged beneath him, you’ve never felt so surrounded by him before. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic band of your underwear and rolls them down your legs, your knees coming up automatically to help him. Underwear dropped aside, his big hands clamp down on your shins where you keep your cunt somewhat obstructed. With one move he pulls apart your legs, abruptly exposing you to the air and his eyes. He slots his body between your legs so you’re spread open for him and all you can do is watch.

With one hand, he cups you, slipping his fingers through your lips, teasing around your clit, while the other hand goes to his belt, unbuckling and unzipping his jeans, so he can pull out his swelling cock.

“I can’t wait, sweetheart.” He says, notching his hips against yours, resting his heavy cock on top of your mound. He fucks himself against you, making you jump with every bump of his tip against your clit. You can feel yourself begin to coat his length in your wetness, which you’re thankful for, taking Joel is no small feat. He’s long, easily reaching the end of you, and he’s fucking thick. It feels like your pussy creates a vacuum from how wide he stretches you. He’s always been so careful not to hurt you before, usually licking and sucking your clit before even finger fucking you to open you up wide enough.

You don’t think he’s going to do that tonight, given that he’s notching his cock head with your hole. He takes you by surprise by spitting down on your mound, spreading the added wetness to your entrance.

Then he starts to push in. You can’t help it, you arch away at the sting, your knee drawing across his hips to give you space. You want to take him, you just need a moment to adjust. Joel just keeps pushing forward, readjusting to pin your knees to the side of you, while he continues to sheathe himself inside you completely.

He crowds even closer, his face hovering over yours - nose to nose. Once he’s hilted inside, you both moan simultaneously and you feel his lips swallow your moan of pain and turn it into one of pleasure.

He retracts so he can spit on the pads of his fingers and reach down to soothe where your lips are stretched impossibly wide around his cock. It does help the ache, especially when he circles the bud of your clit directly.

“God, I love this little pussy.” He groans, looking in fascination at the sight of his cock impaled in your cunt. He slowly draws back, before pushing forward, then repeating the motion, all the while massaging around your stuffed hole.

You barely even register the soft little whimpers you’re letting out, they’re all background noises to the sensations Joel is sending through you with every little back and forth of his hips.

You’ve become so wet from his penetration combined with his stroking fingers, you can feel how its coated his cock and balls, your inner wet inner thighs make obnoxious slaps when his hips rock into them. Harder and harder Joel fucks you, so hard all you can do is dig your nails into the muscles of his shoulder you can feel through his shirt.

Little groans and soft whimpers seem to be being pushed out of you with every stroke of his thick cock, you try to keep your composure, you feel self conscious with how loud you’re being already.

Only you can’t, as soon you clench your jaw shut to keep from gasping, tears start pricking your eyes. The pain has been pushed into the background as a not unpleasant ache, its the pleasure that’s overwhelming. The ecstasy of being surrounded the sight, feel, smell of Joel literally lying on top of you while he groans above you and plows your pussy harder than you’ve ever been fucked. 

Then Joel grabs your clenched jaw in one hand, digging his fingers in.

“I wanna hear those sweet little noises you make, darling.” He urges, trailing his hand down to rest at the hallow of your throat, stroking his thumb up your neck. 

You do as he asks and relax your jaw, which he must have been watching for because he times it with a particularly savage thrust that rips a squeal from your throat. You feel your cheeks warm even further at the sound but Joel sounds pleased, a low chuckle rumbling from him as he continues to pound gasp after whimper from you, and pretty soon you loose any self consciousness.

“You look so pretty like this.” Joel praises, stroking your cheek softly, and you feel your body go pliant, free for him to do with as he pleases.

Joel grins at your fucked-out expression, “You like being fucked like this?”

You nod your head, “Yes, Joel.” Are all the words you can manage.

You can hear him hum his approval. One of his hand drops down to your clit, and it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to cum once he touches you. Your walls rhythmically grip around his pistoning cock.

“Good girl, that’s a good fucking girl.” Joel’s husky voice praising you prolongs your orgasm, til every muscle in your body is taut as a bow string. Finally the waves of shudders wracking through your body ebb away. You let out a huge breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and blink your eyes open to look up into Joel’s.

“That feel good?” He asks all innocent like he isn’t still buried balls deep inside you.

“Mmm hm.” You nod, face breaking into a smile as he presses kisses down your neck, whiskers tickling the sensitive skin.

You squeak in surprise when he wraps his arms more firmly around you and effortlessly hoists you into the air.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

[princessjojo-x]

Libra Mars

💝 he’ll attract his love interest by appearing charming, gentlemanly & persuasive - expect plenty of smiles & compliments.

💝 since this mars sign is detriment & weak, he’s more inclined to seek out multiple women to feed his ego, consequently he’s prone to cheat on his partner.

💝 he’s a people pleaser & lives for the approval of others. if he doesn’t like you anymore, he’ll just avoid you. if he gets in trouble, he’ll just avoid it. he’s always wanting to resolve the matter & keep the peace at all costs.

💝 mars is all abt conflict but libra is all abt compromise; on the off chance he does argue with you, he’ll be very fake, indirect & condescending. he struggles with passive aggression & misplaced aggression. he tends to sneak diss people in their presence & gossip abt them behind their back. he will destroy you so subtly & sneakily, that you’ll only know abt it after it’s down. be careful as these men are the epitome of “wolf in sheep’s clothing”.

💝 he’s either a mediator or an instigator depending on what benefits him the most. don’t expect him to pick a side or defend you bc he’ll play both sides to ensure he always come out on top.

💝 he is one of the weakest mars sign but he knows how to turn the strongest mars signs into his allies. he will use his charm to win them over & turn them against you.

💝 he HATES appearing weak in public & he will do ANYTHING to avoid it.

💝 his social circles fluctuate frequently bc he likes connections to magically appear & disappear at his desired disposal.

💝 he has a tendancy to be too polished & “perfect”.

💝 it takes him a while to move on & get over things.

💝 high s3x drive

💝 he will completely cater & submit to your sexual needs, he’s defo a giver in the bedroom.

💝 he may prefer looking good in bed almost more than the act itself.

Turn On’s:

💝 don’t be afraid to be loud when sleeping with him.

💝 his lower back is his erogenous zones. he is turned on by kissing, licking, sensual touching & nipple play. he also likes eating coochie & watching his woman play w her own coochie.

💝 he’s attracted to tall, intelligent & seductive women who is tall, with fair skin, cleavage & long straight hair.

Turn Off’s:

💝 he tends to put a lot of importance into aftercare & not receiving it can straight up ruin the experience for him.

💝 he dislikes rude or vulgar partners.

💝 he’s turned off by a dirty bedroom, bad smells, etc.

💝 he dislikes power plays & prefers a more balanced/equal act.

[yeahyeahchloe]

It Wasn't in my Head (1)

(a/n: hellooo! im super excited to be putting my ideas into writing ((finally)) and sharing it with u! this will be a multi part fic, im not sure how long yet, but i am a fan of long slowburn stories so get ready. also, this story will contain inappropriate themes so minors and ageless blogs dni! this is only my third or fourth fic ive ever done so plz be nice to me hehe. ok on with it then)

Summary: Abby is the starting linebacker at UW and when her team starts to falter her coach decides to get the team into ballet, in order to teach them that grace and stability is important in football too. Abby is just as upset about her teammates about this, until she sees her pretty new ballet teacher...

dancer!reader x football!abby

!!ABBY IS STRAIGHT IN THE BEGINNING. READER IS HER GAY AWAKENING!!

The locker slammed in the empty room as the blonde walked out alone, ready for practice. There were a few "hey man"s thrown her way as she walked out the doors.

Abby had always had a thing for sports since she was a kid. She tried a lot of them too, none of them quite working out.

That was before she found football.

Football was one of the only things that ever made Abby truly happy. She knew it was kind of corny to say, but she seriously felt lost without it.

So when she worked her ass off and was offered a once in a lifetime opportunity to play on the men's football team at the college in her hometown, it just kind of felt like fate was aligned.

Abby jogged over to where she saw everyone else running and started doing so. Abby got along fine with all the boys on her team, I mean it was her team after all, but she never really felt the need to truly befriend any of them. She had her close circle and that was all she needed.

Her said close circle consisted of her friends Miguel, Ellie, and Vi.

Her and Miguel met when they were teenagers at a boxing class. She ended up hating boxing but loving what came out of it. Miguel was the type of guy to make anyone feel good about anything. He could turn anything into the funniest joke, or a life lesson.

And Ellie, well she met Ellie not long ago, when their dads met in a poker club and Ellie's dad kina killed Abby's in the game. They had been friends ever since they started talking about their lack of mothers and love of corny dad jokes. Abby had also always known Ellie was gay, but the deal was kind of sealed when she would gush about her crush on a girl named Riley.

And Vi, well Vi was Abby's best friend since childhood. Abby was embarrassed to say, but she was the scared, shy kid sitting on the ABC rug in the classroom. Thankfully, Vi was the complete opposite and marched right up to Abby on her short little legs and struck up conversation. And the rest of the story just kind of wrote itself.

"Hey! Hey Anderson! Slow down!"

Abby looked over her shoulder to analyze the face calling out to her. She turned back ahead and cringed before turning back around and smiling at the man.

Owen wasn't a bad guy per-say, it was really just the way he couldn't learn when to stop. He had practically been eating out of Abby's hands the past three years they've been playing together.

It always confused Abby why she wasn't attracted to Owen, but she sort of just wasn't, and she thought she had made that pretty clear. She also just liked to think that sports were important to her, and she had too much going on for crushes or relationships.

"Hey Owen what's goin on?" Abby slowed so the man could catch up and tried to approach the conversation politely.

"Oh yaknow...practice," He said in between huffs, trying to catch up with the fit girl next to him, "What about you?"

"Yeah just, practice," She commented, coated with awkwardness.

Owen went to open his mouth to speak again, but thankfully her coach whistled loudly and told everyone to hustle in.

They flocked over to their coach and took a knee in front of him while the moustached man opened his mouth and started speaking.

"I called y'all over here to talk before ya started doing drills," he gruffed in his strange accent, "I hope y'all have noticied, that all your scrimages have been straight crap recently. I've seen blindfolded toddlers play ball better than you sissies!"

Abby cringed at his harsh words, but she couldn't help but agree. She assumed everyone was slacking recently due to the fact it was August, and the season hadn't even started yet.

"So, since I wont be caught coaching a ton of pansies, I've decided to get some outside help," everyone seemed confused by his words, and Abby couldn't help but be confused herself.

What the hell kind of outside help did they need?

"Huskies, y'all are gonna be taking ballet classes," the coach said, smirk prominent on his mustache covered lips.

Everyone immediately groaned and commented with wild distaste for the man's decision.

"Shut your nabbin!" he erupted with anger in his voice, "I don't want to hear another damn word! Y'all are takin ballet to learn that just because you think you're big tough men, don't mean you are! You will learn how to move properly on your feet, improving your agility, balance, and strength coordination. You start tomorrow and are fortunate enough to be taught by the greatest ballet dancer in the state and a student at this school. Dismissed,"

Fuck

(a/n: ok wow first chapter! hoped you guys liked it, I promise the next chapter will be more interesting. I will try and have it out soon! ♡︎♡︎)

[god-i-hope-so]

The BoBs really think Ryan confirmed their ship is happening because he said "whatever happens happens" and he didn't outright say it wouldn't happen. Uhm he did say that in his "Eddie is a heterosexual man, Buck's straight friend that he came out to, and it's so nice that a straight man and a bi man can be friends" interview and y'all didn't believe him. Not to mention JLH telling them it wasn't going to happen, and then backtracking when the BoBs went crazy.

But we're the deluded ones for shipping bucktommy after just three episodes and Tommy being a plot device (apparently).

Hey, anon!

Well. People are free to think what they want, obviously. I don't even see much of what the BoBs are saying, only what is shared in the buck/tommy tags because I value my peace way too much to go look into the chaos.

"Whatever happens happens" means "you don't get to decide". Also how do they know that it's not Ryan who said no eventually?

They're angry because they now realize their fantasy won't become canon and like a bunch of toddlers who realize they won't have the toy they thought they would get, they throw a temper tantrum. And I can understand the disappointment. But not the reaction. Not the violence in their posts. There's no love for the show there, for the creative minds, for the effort of representation, for the people who work hard to make it happen. They're not fans. They just saw two cute men and projected their fantasies on them, whatever the story or the character development.

Yes, some choices don't make much sense in canon, I even myself would have enjoyed to see Eddie and Buck together at the beginning. It would have been cute, with Christopher loving them both so much too. But that's not what happened and they definitely wrote them in a way that doesn't leave any doubt if you don't try to read so hard between lines that don't even exist. People need to accept a story for what it is, and if they don't like it, they can live in complete denial of it. There's no shame in that but do it with respect. Your fantasy is yours.

The hate against Tommy is also their problem. They can hate him all they want but they twist everything about him to fit their hateful narrative. Queer characters deserve respect. Well, most of them, a queer pos is still a pos. But Tommy has been brought back into the show and written with respect for the character, for the story and for his purpose: being Buck's new romance. Not only he already existed in the show but also has history with the 118 and has a significant shared story with Hen and Chim. He's already a characters in itself, he just came back.

Having a character like Tommy is also more than just a interesting character. It's a necessary character. He fits the cishet macho mold so perfectly: veteran, pilot, firefighter, buff, confident, professional, brave. But he's GAY AF. And everything he does is respectful and kind. And haters have to rely on lying to show him in a bad light because so far, there's nothing. Imagine what this kind of character looks like for the average audience? It's great representation for us queer.

In the end, BoBs can hate all they want, Buck and Tommy together is canon, Tommy has only shown positive traits so far, he's shown sane boundaries and respect for other's. When haters have to rely on details, and still twist them, to justify their hate, you know they know they're wrong. They know, but they can't give up now that they've reach this level of hate.

All I would ask of them would be to stop the hate against real life people and stop pulling them into the drama (the live with JLH was NO THAT. Shame on them). Let the fandom be at war between ships if you need that to feel something but leave real people out of that, especially actors and Lou in particular. They're paid to play and this is not a service. You're not a client they have to satisfy because you paid for a specific performance. The bullying and entitlement need to stop.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Loving your new yandere set 2! I’m back again to ask a question for all the men (yandere set 1)

What would be each yanderes’ ideal outfit/clothing style they’d want to dress up their darling in? (Basically if the yandere had full control and decision making over their darling’s wardrobe from now on)

For example…casual outfit, fancy formal, the yandere man’s own clothing, etc. Or is there a specific piece/accessory that’d make them go wild like high heels, oversized shirt, sundress, etc.?

Also, will you do the same asks I’ve sent in before with the yandere set 2 once they’re completed? (Ranking as fathers, how they’d behave if their child/ren were yanderes, dream date…any other I missed that I sent in?)

Thanks as always, you’re the best! And I hope school is still going ok for you!

Yandere! Men and their Choice of Outfit for You

Heyya! Well, about the choice to make the second set of Yanderes with the same question. Not gonna lie, it sounds exhausting 😭 maybe if I felt like it, I will do it!

YAN! ARTIST

Arlen wants to matchy-match with you, so he definitely would pick soft light academia looks. Cardigans, sweaters, a-line skirts, pants, with boots, loafers or kitten heels. Then a small, statement pin of a palette on you and him!

He will go crazy though if you wore his paint apron with nothing underneath. Let's just say you won't walk straight for some days if you did that. He'll paint you with his colors if you do that, that's for sure *wink

YAN! DRAGON

Lavish outfits just for you, his royal partner. Silk, satin, cotton of the highest quality, velvet, with golds and jewels to decorate your sacred royal body. And, he'll pluck a scale from his body and give it to a smith to create jewel out of it just for you. Vincent will personally put it on your neck. Then suddenly, the other jewels seems so insignificant...

Yet, he goes crazy whenever you will only wear a robe on your body. God, just seeing you teasingly show off skin to your dragon husband is enough to warrant his want to breed you. And that's like... Everyday.

YAN! THEATER ACTOR

Ignatius would want to match cosplays with you of roles and plays he was in. May it be from Waitress, Heathers, Ride the Cyclone, Dear Evan Hansen, Wicked... This man will conjure casual cosplays with you. Of course, not the costume and outfit itself, but like a casual iteration of it if warranted.

But, his most favorite is seeing you in outfits that he wore and that his character dons. Not the leading lady/man, but that character itself. Let's say, if you wore the JD costume that he wore too, he'll perform Dead Girl Walking all night with you.

YAN! BUTLER

Well, with Zero... In the earlier stages, he would be adamant of choosing outfits that you won't wear. So he'll still clothe you in noble clothes.

But once Zero has developed his own tastes, he'll want to see you in a maid outfit. Yes, even if you're masculine presenting. Something that's remotely lower than his personal butler status. He will have a field day watching you fluster and order you around for a change. And it will end up in a weird power dynamic that both of you will end up wanting for more.

YAN! SUGAR DADDY

Rowan loves seeing you in all of these high end clothes. No, not branded clothes that you can easily see from malls. No, definitely not that. But clothes from runways? Clothes that are exclusive from Fashion Week that has only a handful of copies? Outfits from fashion designers with fees so high it makes a person weep? Yeah. Those. It displays his raw money and prestige. And seeing them on your body is like owning you completely <3

Nothing beats it though if you incorporate his clothes with yours. Like you made his shirt as your dress with a belt on the waist to wear on dates or outings? Let's say that the both of you aren't gonna go to the outing after all.

YAN! JOCK

He will still clothe you on your normal clothes. He liked it that way. He doesn't remotely care about dressing you in clothes he likes, but buying clothes of your taste but with a higher quality is something he will like immensely.

But, if you wear Damon's letterman jacket though... He'll get so pumped and suddenly, with you cheering on the bleachers with his jacket on, he's scoring points left and right. And when he inevitably wins, he'll have his celebratory win with doing his ways with you. Interpret that as how you like lol

YAN! ASSASSIN

You, in formal clothes, but with harnesses? How does that work? You don't know. But he makes it work really well. He loves seeing you in these corporate attires but with touches of his own tastes on your body. And, harnesses are restricting. Like he's restraining you, owning you, making a statement that you're his.

Although, he has twisted tastes though. If he just came from a mission a bloody mess? Let's say goodbye to the clothes you're wearing that day, and that you're gonna spend the rest of the day washing off blood from your body. Yeah, he's into that.

YAN! EX-BOYFRIEND

Lee would love to wear you in casual coquette clothes. He thinks it would look cute on you. And he's right! It fits so much with how amazing on you. And then, he would make you wear other styles too! Academia, cottage, even cyber. He will make it up to you by showering you with gifts of clothes that he knew will look good on you no matter the style.

He will go crazy if you did tropical stuff though. Tropical gyaru, beach core, sailor outfits... He's a sweating mess when he's watching you in that swimming outfit and it's not even hot out (The beach traumatized him and he's coping it in a somehow healthy way).

YAN! COWBOY

Is it obvious? Cowboy clothes all the way! Flared jeans, patterns, flannels, boots, he will have a field day deciding on a buckle for your belt. He loves seeing you in clothes from his daily life. It made it feel like you're integrating yourself for him (despite the clothes being his choice and not yours lol)

And this one is also obvious. His cowboy hat on you will never fail to make him excited in one way or another. If you wear it by yourself whenever you're doing the deed? Get ready. His stamina just increased tenfold and you will be needing a horse to transport you everywhere.

YAN! EMO

Ashton will dress you in Jirai Kei clothes! HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KNOW THAT? As a child of the internet, he of course discovered different types of alt fashion. He got too immersed and found Jirai Kei, and he absolutely loved it. So, expect frills, dark cutesy clothes with a hint of vulnerability due to it's origin, it's the perfect matching fashion with him despite not really being emo.

He's aware of Jirai Kei's dark history and implication though, and if he knows you're not comfortable with those, then, he'll completely dress you in emo clothes. There is a reason though why he went with Jirai first and not emo. Whenever you wore emo, he gets so aroused, especially it's the opposite of your original fashion choice. He loves tainting you with blacks and darkness, with the vulnerability and intimacy he enjoys so much.

YAN! WEREWOLF

Greens, blues, browns... Anything nature themed would do good for him. So, cottage core is the go to for this guy. He loves seeing you in these cute dresses that has floral hints that blended seamlessly with the nature of the place you both live in. Like you belonged, like you were his.

But, seeing you wear stuff you knitted from his wolf fur is what would set him off. Even if it's just a scarf or gloves, he WILL groan from the want he's feeling. Breeding you won't be enough, he wants you to smell like him completely.

YAN! EX-HUSBAND

Inigo, just like Rowan, would not want generic branded clothes on your body. But, unlike him, he will have a tailor to make formal, casual, evening, sleeping, active wear clothes just for you. Only one in the world. Even if the tailor or designer isn't well known, but if that designer is really skilled and do clothes that will fit you, then he's sold.

But, if he sees you in his shirt and nothing more than maybe your undergarments? Such a vulnerable choice of clothes is guaranteed to make him want to have more children from you ;)

YAN! HOSPITAL CHAIRPERSON

Xavier is a simple man. He would love to see you in flowy clothes. I mean, somehow, something on you should make you look free and not locked up in his mansion due to his anxiety and paranoia, right? So, light, airy clothes would ebb the guilt he's feeling inside from locking you up.

You wearing his white coat though would make him throw the guilt out of the window though. He'll go haywire, since his coat would probably have bacteria, virus, or anything that can harm your health on it! So, he'll punish you greatly by "sanitizing" you. Not medically accurate? Meh. He's too far gone to think straight from the pleasure.

YAN! VILLAIN

Eros on the other hand from the other nobility yanderes, he would love to see you wear simple clothes. Sure, he will gift you regal clothes fit for nobility, but nothing beats seeing you shed from your noble life and just relax in his arms in simple garments just like back in earth for him, and just like back in your childhood for you.

Although, seeing you in modern earth clothes for him is guaranteed to satisfy him. Not casual clothes, but in evening gown clothes with high slits, straps, backless, clothes that will kill a conservative lady in Saphiri. It makes him feel like he's in earth, and how he wishes to whisk you away in this life back home.

YAN! POLITICIAN

Maximus would give you clothes that is reminiscent of the 50's. Skirts and dresses below the knees, pearls, something not revealing yet so classy and elegant. It's okay if it's figure hugging, but he will pick something that is not short and with no windows to show off your skin. It's only for his eyes, and nobody else's.

He will go crazy seeing you in modern clothes though. It is a secret, and it's up to you if you decided to tease and test him and wear short, cocktail dresses with a backless design and tube tops. He'll "punish" you for it, burying himself deep in you as he whispers who you belong to.

YAN! MAFIA BOSS

Hades would dress you in something not reminiscent of his work. So light academia, cottage core, coquette, kawaii, anything that doesn't taint you with his job. Although, that "not tainting" bizz is just on your clothing though. Other than that, like your lifestyle will inevitably be tainted. Whether he likes it or not.

If you did decide to wear clothes that fits the "mafia" aesthetic (whatever that means), he'll get inexplicably aroused. Seeing you in this strong and authoritative style is making him want to put you in your place.