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fushitoru · 10 months ago

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chapter 2: the aftermath a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

a/n some parts of this chapter broke my brain to write but i kind of had fun! as always thank you to @/sinn-claire for beta reading :p i was going to say i'll try to have weekly updates but i don't want to jinx it lol

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

Dearest gentle reader,

It appears that Her Majesty has bestowed the coveted title of this season’s Diamond upon none other than Miss Itadori, who has indeed lived up to her newfound acclaim as the incomparable of the year. At the latest ball, our shining Diamond was quite occupied, with suitors lining up in such numbers that one might have thought them to be queuing for the royal throne itself. Furthermore, blooms were budding between many of the debutantes and gentlemen, including…..

...Yet, one particular couple captivated the attention of all: none other than Mister Satoru Gojo and our season’s Diamond. After having kept his words sparse and his attentions limited to none, Mister Gojo appeared utterly taken with Miss Itadori, conversing with her intimately on the dance floor. It seems your humble Author was indeed correct⸺Mister Gojo has entered the marriage market. However, the exclusivity he has adopted may not deter the determined maidens he seeks to avoid, for the Ambitious Mamas will no doubt perceive his selectiveness as a challenge to be overcome.

One cannot help but wonder if an announcement of particular interest will be made at the upcoming Gojo country house party. Although your Author has not yet laid eyes upon the guest list for the Duchess Gojo’s anticipated gathering, reliable sources suggest that nearly every eligible young lady of marriageable age will be journeying to Kent next week. The country house party is known to be a perilous affair. Married individuals often find themselves enjoying the company of someone other than their spouse, while the unwed frequently return to town betrothed with surprising haste.

Indeed, the most unexpected engagements often follow closely on the heels of such rustic diversions.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

Satoru had no intention of squandering his time this season⸺or at any time, for that matter.

The notion of love matches held little appeal to him, despite witnessing such a union firsthand in his own parents. Make no mistake, the Duke and Duchess Gojo enjoyed a happy marriage, and Satoru held both his father and mother in the highest regard. Yet, he was perfectly content on his own.

Being one of the strongest bachelors⸺both intellectually and physically⸺has been Satoru’s destiny. Ever since his ancestors had been blessed by the royal family with the dukedom, the Gojo family had made its goal to be the most powerful nobility and the closest to the royal family. (Which is still maintained in the status quo, because the Queen dotes on Satoru, inviting him for tea every fortnight. The Queen lavished him with overly sweet biscuits, and in return, Satoru provided her with the latest gossip from court).

But this responsibility doesn’t get fulfilled without independence; one had to accept the solitary truth that to be truly great was to remain unswayed by the fleeting pleasures of the world⸺love included.

Satoru had little time or interest for the other vices that tempted men of his station, such as lust. Contrary to the whispers circulating among the ton, Satoru had never indulged in the life of a rake or frequented brothels as many of his acquaintances did. Really, the allegations were, in truth, merely just a byproduct of his appearance and demeanor; with a young man with the stature, face, and eligibility of Satoru, the public would immediately like to slap on the label of “rake” due to his arrogant personality. Moreover, any encounters he had witnessed between men and women⸺whether dropping his friends off at brothels in his carriage after an evening at the gentleman’s club or overhearing flirtations at parties⸺struck him as shallow and an utter waste of time, especially when he was already a week behind on the ledgers and other official matters his father had entrusted to him. (He did have one indulgence, however: a weakness for gluttony, with an array of sweet confections as his loyal companions during long, sleepless nights.)

Marriage was an even greater burden. The thought of being accountable for a wife, and eventually children, seemed like a daunting task to Satoru. With sleepless nights spent on covering just a fraction of the business his father must do as a duke, Satoru was tired. He was exhausted⸺exhausted from the weight of responsibility, from striving to meet his father’s expectations, from seeking the Queen’s approval, from worrying over what Whistledown might print about him, and from the gossip of the businessmen with whom the Gojo family dealt.

And yet, despite this weariness, Satoru was gripped by an insatiable obsession with perfection, an obsession that only deepened his fatigue. He craved approval, power, and the flawless execution of his duties⸺desires that gnawed at him even as they threatened to consume him.

Which is exactly why he needed a perfect wife. A wife that was capable, could handle bothersome people⸺which he was steadily losing the patience to deal with⸺and a reliable companion. Someone that would reduce his stress, not add to it.

Satoru had spent all day lurking in the shadows as best as he could; being the most eligible bachelor did mean that brothers and sisters were coming up to him, singing praises of their debutante in an effort to capture his interest. But Satoru knew all too well that the loudest families often had the most to compensate for.

As ladies in white paraded before the crowd, many buckling under the weight of judgment and attention, Satoru prowled like a jungle cat, staying hidden in the throng, biding his time, and waiting for the right moment to strike.

What he noticed first about you was your way of carrying yourself. Even Auntie⸺the Queen⸺who, after seeing countless of girls today, had been incredibly bored, dragged her eyes over you in slightly more interest than she did for others. The moment you stepped through those grand doors into the court, it was evident to everyone that your stride was that of someone who understood her role and position in life⸺a confidence that set you apart from the other debutantes. Satoru’s eyes raked over you, observing you as your chest rose slightly as you took a breath in.

And then you smiled.

Satoru's eyes widened, just imperceptibly, as he watched your expression as you made your way to the Queen. He made sure to shake his expression off to a more nonchalant one as he watched your form walk. Lesser men than Satoru would die for your smile. Men, out of all traits a woman could possess, cherished a pretty visage the most. Yet, what your smile conveyed went beyond mere beauty; it embodied innocence and the qualities most esteemed in a demure bride (which Satoru knew was just all a show, but it was indeed indicative of your skill to put up appearances, hence deeming you a reliable companion).

The corner of the young man's mouth rose. When the Queen declared you the diamond of the season, Satoru knew he had found his quarry.

When the ball came, Satoru acted similarly: observing from behind, staying in conversation with his friends and other noble men that did business with the Gojo family as he prowled the ballroom, waiting for the right moment to ask you for your hand. And then Naoya came in when you were finally alone, away from all the incompetent men that dared to think they had a chance to court you, and Satoru almost laughed snarkily at how easy it all was.

Approaching you, saving you from Naoya⸺it was all a perfect construction of his. Dancing, he noticed your steps were carried out with a practiced perfection and grace, and your responses to his questions displayed a respectable level of intellect. He could tell your responses were practiced and simple, your constitution and demeanor a result of much effort into presenting yourself as best as you could. But what does it matter, when you do it so perfectly?

Maybe it was a bit naive of him, but you seemed to glow when conversing with him. It amused him, as he kept watching your pretty eyes as you kept smiling while he kept throwing difficult questions at you. It was all expected, however. Satoru knew he was blessed with the brilliant blue Gojo eyes and eccentric fair, white hair; he was the most eligible bachelor for not only wealth and power but reproductive capabilities and opportunities as well. Which lady wouldn’t want to be mother to his cute and beautiful blue-eyed babies?

After witnessing such mediocre men who paled in comparison to Satoru, surely you must be smitten. Gojo could see right through you: you, the diamond, have been looking for a man as meritorious as you, and you had found it in Satoru.

So why were you acting this way?

When you wake up in the morning and get ready for suitors, it is as you expected; there are multiple carriages outside your doorstep, and there is a line from the drawing room, extending all the way down the stairs. When Choso stumbles into the drawing room, where you and your mother are enjoying tea, he is clearly unhappy at the selection of men waiting to be let in to call upon you.

“This is absurd!” Choso’s hands raked over his hair in an effort to process the scene he had just witnessed. “Why do I see Naoya waiting outside?”

Your nose crinkled in distaste. “Well, dear brother, I certainly cannot control which suitors call upon me. He must’ve enjoyed our conversation yesterday. The enjoyment, however, is one sided.”

Choso’s eyes widened comically. “You had a conversation with him yesterday?” He then turned to your mother accusingly, who was reading a Whistledown while sipping on her tea innocuously. “This would not have happened if I was there, Mother. This is your fault.”

Your mother continued drinking her tea nonchalantly, waiting for a few beats to grace him with a response. “I prefer this, my son, to no visitors out there because our dear Lord Itadori scared all the bachelors away with his pickiness.” Then, her eyes flashed. “And don’t give me that tone.”

You snickered behind your palm as Choso visibly deflated.

“Kuna! Get back here!”

Pitter patters of small paws started to get closer and closer, as heavy footsteps followed it. Yuji and the family corgi, Sukuna Jr., burst into the room. Eyeing the biscuit in your hand, Kuna made his way directly to you, panting at your feet. A pet given affectionately by your-not-so-affectionate older brother, Sukuna, when he left for his year long trip around Europe, Kuna was the cutest little puppy. You and Yuji loved to spoil him, clearly shown as Yuji patted him while breathing heavily. You cooed as Kuna licked your fingers while inhaling the biscuit you had presented him.

“Well,” your mother stood up, having finished her tea, and began ushering in the maids to clear the table. “It seems our morning will be quite busy. You’d best be prepared for a long day, my dear.”

Choso was still grumbling as he took a seat across from you, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the long line of suitors outside. “I’m keeping an eye on that Naoya fellow. If he so much as looks at you the wrong way…”

You raised an eyebrow at your brother’s protectiveness, feeling both amused and touched. “Choso, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle myself. Besides, with Kuna here, I doubt any of these gentlemen will get too close without proper approval.”

As if understanding the conversation, Sukuna Jr. barked enthusiastically, his tail wagging as he looked up at you with bright, expectant eyes. You smiled and scratched behind his ears, watching as his tiny body wriggled with joy.

Yuji, still catching his breath from the chase, flopped onto the chair beside you, shooting a grin at Choso. “Come on, big brother, give her a break. It’s not every day our sister gets declared the diamond of the season. Let her enjoy it.”

Choso crossed his arms, still unconvinced. “I’m just saying, if any of these men don’t meet my standards⸺”

“Your standards?” you interrupted with a teasing lilt. “Choso, I’d never find a husband if I had to meet your impossible standards. Besides, you should be more concerned about finding someone yourself.”

Choso’s cheeks tinted with a slight blush, but make no mistake; he was hot with anger, ready to make a snarky retort. Your mother, who had been overseeing the maids, turned her attention back to the conversation with a soft smile.

“Your sister is right, Choso. It’s her time to shine, and as her family, we should support her, not make things more difficult.” She gave him a pointed look before turning to you with a gentler expression, and he backed down as he always does for your mother. “Now, my dear, are you ready to begin receiving your guests?”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you steeled yourself for the hours of polite conversation and careful navigation of the social battlefield ahead. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” your mother said, her voice laced with both pride and encouragement. “Remember, you are the diamond of the season. There isn’t a man out there who wouldn’t be lucky to have you.”

You offered a weak smile. “Let’s get this over with.”

As you walked toward the sofa where you would be talking with suitors, Kuna trotted alongside you, his presence a comforting reminder.With Yuji and Choso trailing behind, and your mother leading the way to open the door, you braced yourself for the onslaught of admirers waiting beyond the door.

But as you straighten your posture, in anticipation to greet the first suitor, you couldn't help but glance down at Kuna, who stared up at you with wide, curious eyes. You chuckled softly.

“Well, Kuna,” you whispered, “let’s see who passes your test today.”

Gojo’s gaze wandered down to Sukuna Jr. in your lap as you stroked his fur, and he gave you a saccharine⸺yet strained⸺smile. “Must this dog bear witness to our conversation?

As if sensing Gojo’s unfriendliness, Kuna started growling, and you could feel the rumble deep in his stomach. You met Gojo’s sweet smile with one of your own. “Yes.”

Gojo blinked, and the smile on his face faltered. You noticed that this was one of the first time Gojo’s ever expressed an emotion outside of smugness, and you count this as your personal win.

“Well,” he hesitated, and then a smile was on his face as if that stumble didn’t happen. “You look wonderful this morning, Miss Itadori.”

Your eyes flashed at his audacity to talk behind your back and try to fool you with flattery. “On the contrary, I think I look rather simple.”

Gojo, none the wiser as to what you were referring to, waved his hands. “Nonsense.”

Before you could respond, Kuna let out a low, rumbling growl, his sharp eyes fixed on Gojo. The sound was subtle, but in the quiet of the morning, it was unmistakable. Gojo’s gaze flickered down to the small dog, and his smile tightened ever so slightly.

You gently scratched behind Kuna’s ears, calming him, though his gaze never left Gojo. “I apologize on behalf of my dear Kuna,” you said, your voice light but nonetheless pointed. “He tends to be wary of many, particularly those he believes to be with ulterior motives.”

Gojo nodded, unfazed, and looked down at the dog in question. Upon eye contact, all your efforts to calm Kuna went to naught as the dog stood up, tense and teeth almost bared fully, to stare back at Gojo defiantly. Gojo, to his credit, was starting to be a little wary and was giving the pup an impassive stare.

“You know, I have an affinity for dogs. There are many pups that I have spent my entire childhood with.” He offered a chuckle and moved his hand to pet Kuna. “Dogs do have a way of sensing things, don’t they?” That was clearly the wrong decision because the dog’s growl grew louder, and suddenly, he snapped at Gojo’s hand. Before Kuna could sink his teeth into Gojo’s hand, however, Gojo smoothly withdrew it out of his reach.

“Protective, isn’t he?” Gojo laughed, but his stare towards Kuna was veering more and more into a glare. He tried to disguise his irritation by suavely adding, “Admirable. I’m glad he has protected my lady so well.” Gojo then grabbed your hand to give you a small kiss on the back of it while keeping eye contact. You had to divert your eyes elsewhere to avoid coloring your cheeks; while you knew this was just another one of Gojo’s pretenses to charm you, you were still fazed by it.

You cleared your throat and tried to uphold the conversation. After all, it would be outright rude to keep throwing thinly veiled insults his way when there were others in your company; he also had the potential to spread further malicious rumors about you if you showed attitude. You mustered up a fake smile, and offered, “He was a gift to me and Yuji offered by my older brother, Sukuna, when he went traveling,” you offered.

“Is that the brother you hoped to follow to Europe?”

You blinked and faltered. You didn’t expect him to remember that tidbit from your conversation at the ball last night. While most of the preferences you had asserted were artificial⸺supplemented to you by your tutor, who had drilled what fake preferences of yours would woo men⸺you truly did gain enthusiasm for the languages because you hoped to prove your helpfulness to Sukuna in an effort to run away from your inevitable debut. At the time, you were rebelling against anything your mama said, avoiding anything associated with being paraded around like an animal, put on display for men. “Yes,” you said slowly, “Yes, it is.”

Gojo smiled, this time a little more genuine at the fact it was his first time receiving an authentic response from you this morning, rather than something covered with a fake smile. Just as he leaned in slightly, probably preparing to make another smooth remark, Kuna, who had been shifting in your lap, suddenly stilled, his face buried in your lap and tail facing Gojo. For a moment, you thought he might be settling down.

And then it happened.

The largest fart ripped through the room out of Kuna’s arse, which was pointed directly in Gojo’s face. While you were not a scholar studying physics, you were aware that the air dynamics did not do Gojo any favors in preventing the smell from hitting him direct-on. Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, and his suave expression faltered entirely as the smell quickly followed, filling the air around you both.

You could feel the heat rushing to your face in your effort not to laugh out loud. Trying to keep your composure, you gently patted Kuna’s belly, who was now face up, tongue lolling out in bliss. “Oh, dear,” you muttered, your voice strained with the effort to suppress a laugh.

Gojo, for once, was at a loss for words. His eyes were tearing up, probably at the smell; whenever you and Yuji spoiled Kuna with those biscuits, he dropped nasty-smelling dungs, and you knew Gojo wasn’t spared at all. The arrogant bachelor, who always seemed to have a witty response ready, was now at a loss of words as he weakly gazed upon the weak little poot! poot!s that escaped Kuna as you continued patting his stomach in an effort to relieve your pup’s digestive system.

At Gojo’s expression, you had to take quiet, deep breaths in an effort to rein in the cackles that were threatening to overcome you. You resorted to covering your mouth as you strained, “As you can see, my Kuna is quite expressive, and he seemed quite eager to show you that.”

He offered you a strained smile. “He does indeed generate quite a bit of wind.” At that, you could no longer hold back. Genuine laughter wracked through your figure, hurting your ribs as you tried to quell it with a hand to the mouth, but no avail. Your muffled laughter was still loud, and when the giggles subsided, you wiped your tears and threw an apologetic look at Gojo, preparing to express your regret.

But you stopped at the sheer wonder he contained in his face as his gaze fixated on your lips, which were drawn back in the ghost of the smile you had while laughing riotously. Without allowing you much time to dwell on it, he stood up and dipped his head in a little bow. “Well, I have been taking quite a bit of your time, Miss Itadori. I better let other suitors have their chance.” He kissed the back of your hand. “I hope to see you at the horse race tomorrow.”

“Likewise.” You couldn’t help but spy some red coloring Gojo’s alabaster cheeks as he made his way to the exit. As you greeted the next suitor, the imprint of a certain man’s lips continued to tingle on your hands.

“I told you he was a rake,” Nobara muttered as she scrubbed your arm with an intensity that matched her outrage. After hearing what Gojo had said about you, she was livid. Unfortunately, your skin was bearing the brunt of her frustration.

“Well,” you mused, trying to distract her, “what rumors have you heard that make you think that?”

“Momo told me a few months ago⸺” Nobara paused, her hands hovering over the various bottles on the counter. “Which scent would you prefer for your hair?”

“Sandalwood,” you replied.

Nobara nodded and poured some of the rich liquid into her hands before massaging it into your scalp. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension from the day's exhausting and dull conversations slowly melt away under her skillful fingers. “Momo mentioned that he’s often out late at night, which seems suspicious. But now that I think about it, Momo isn’t the most reliable source,” Nobara added, her tone shifting to one of skepticism.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“There’s talk that she attempted to lure another maid’s husband into an affair,” Nobara replied, her hands now working the shampoo through your hair with a practiced ease. “She even tried to gain access to his quarters.”

You gasped. “How scandalous!”

“I know,” Nobara said, her hands now massaging the back of your neck with a gentler touch. “So, who knows how much truth there is to her gossip. But still, Gojo’s behavior is less than honorable, don’t you think?”

You sighed, gazing up at the ceiling with a mix of frustration and resignation. “He was gossiping about me with other men, calling me all sorts of horrible things⸺‘simple,’ of all things. And yet, he has the audacity to want to call upon me?”

“You know,” Nobara mused as she continued her task, “He sounds the exact opposite of what some of your books would imply.”

You hummed in agreement, recalling the radical works you kept hidden beneath your bed. Your mother would be appalled if she ever discovered them, but you often sought solace in political writings that challenged the rigid expectations of society. “I know. And that is precisely why I have no intention of encouraging his attention this season—at least, not before I ensure his complete and utter humiliation.”

“But do take care. His connections to the Queen are quite strong.”

You drew back from Nobara's hands, much to her chagrin. She gave you a glare while you exclaimed, "What?"

“Surely you’re aware that the Gojo dukedom is among the closest to the royal family?”

You fervently hoped your mother hadn’t caught wind of Gojo's status. Yet, the way she had been observing you⸺subtly scrutinizing you in the drawing room while feigning interest in a suitor awaiting his turn⸺suggested otherwise. She had certainly noticed Gojo's growing interest, and the thought of her getting involved, fixating on a match with him, filled you with dread. Drawing your hands over your face, you moaned, the very notion of her scheming to pair you with Gojo weighing heavily on your mind.

“But that should hardly be a concern if you’ve begun to distance yourself from him, correct? You have been creating some distance, haven’t you?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Nobara, ever quick to discern your hesitation, gasped in exasperation. “You cannot seriously be considering giving this gentleman any encouragement, can you?”

"No, no, it’s not that,” you replied, massaging your temples in frustration. “It’s just that my mother is probably ecstatic at the prospect of securing a match between me and Gojo.”

“But surely, if she knew the things he’s been saying behind your back, she would understand.”

You tried to open your mouth to respond, but it felt as if your throat had closed up. Would she really? A match with Gojo would mean elevated status for the Itadori family⸺a duchess for a daughter. What worth is there in being the diamond of the season if not to secure the most advantageous match? The very thought made your chest tighten with the suffocating realization that your mother might very well advocate for the union, despite Gojo’s duplicity.

“I⸺” you swallowed. “I’m not sure.” Before Nobara could interrupt, you stood up and reached for your robe.

Nobara's brow furrowed as she watched you stand up. "Where do you think you're going? You’re not done with your bath, and your hair is still full of suds!" She reached out to stop you, her hands hovering as though unsure whether to pull you back into the tub or grab the robe you were now clutching.

You forced a small, tired smile, grateful for the distraction. “I need just a moment. The water's gone cold, anyway.”

“Oh, nonsense! You’ll catch a chill if you get out now. Sit back down,” Nobara insisted, her protest tinged with genuine concern. She placed a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back toward the warm water.

With a reluctant sigh, you allowed yourself to be coaxed back into the tub. The momentary reprieve from the conversation was a relief, and you welcomed Nobara’s determined focus on completing your bath. She picked up a sponge, her earlier frustration melting into concentration as she scrubbed your back.

“Well, we can discuss that scheming rake later,” she muttered, more to herself than to you. “For now, let’s get you properly cleaned up before your mother comes looking for you. She’d never forgive me if I let you appear anything less than perfect.”

You nodded with a lump in your throat, grateful for the change in topic, even if only temporary. The soothing rhythm of Nobara's hands working through your hair, the warmth of the bathwater, and the familiar, comforting routine helped ease the tightness in your chest. For now, the troubling thoughts of Gojo and your mother's ambitions could be set aside.

“Now, hold still,” Nobara said, her tone softening as she rinsed the last of the soap from your hair. “We’ll have you looking radiant again in no time.”

The conversation was left unfinished, hanging in the air like a question that neither of you was quite ready to answer. But for now, the silence was a welcome refuge.

"Do you have any notion of how impossible it is to charm a lady when there is a pup expelling such foul air right beneath your nose?" Satoru lamented, leaning back in his chair and raking a hand through his tousled hair. The trio gathered at the table presented a rather unusual sight: Satoru, visibly discomposed; Nanami, calmly sipping his drink as ever; and Suguru, nearly doubled over in laughter at his friend’s misfortune.

“Would you please⸺SMACK⸺cease your laughing?!” Satoru glared at Suguru, who seemed to be of no hope, now with tears in his eyes as he clutched his stomach and the back of his head, which Satoru had just hit.

“Truly, your vanity⸺haaah⸺your vanity was in need of humbling,” Suguru managed between breaths, still snickering behind his palms.

Satoru glowered, crossing his arms and staring daggers into his drink, as if his gaze alone could break the fine glass. “My pride had already suffered enough. She was positively frigid.”

Nanami hummed. “Perhaps she’s merely discerned your true nature.”

“It defies comprehension,” Gojo groaned, ignoring Kento’s statement. “What kind of lady disparages her own beauty as ‘simple’? I cannot fathom what has caused her such vexation. Only the night before, she was utterly taken with me!”

Suguru⸺who had now calmed down⸺was in the midst of wiping his tears when he suddenly stopped. “You don’t suppose it had anything to do with your careless words, do you?”

Kento eyed the pair in front of him with an accusatory side eye. “And what precisely did you say?”

“Satoru, in his usual fashion, could not contain his tongue. Out on the terrace, with the garden as witness, he spoke rather unkindly, referring to the diamond as ‘simple and dull.’”

“Nonsense,” Satoru waved his hands, dismissing the idea. “The lady would never wander the gardens at such an hour in the night unchaperoned.”

“I suggest you reconsider.” Kento gave him a stern look and continued, “I happened upon her last night, emerging from the gardens, and she appeared rather disheveled.”

This revelation gave Satoru pause, but if there was one thing certain about Satoru Gojo, it was this: his arrogance was such that he could scarcely fathom anyone, least of all a lady, finding his charm anything but irresistible⸺even if that very lady had overheard him uttering defamatory remarks about her. And this lady was one he could not let go of, unless he wanted to wave good-bye to his future.

“I am confident all will be well,” Gojo exhaled, his lips curving into a Cheshire smile. “Even if she did overhear, surely a few well-chosen sweet words will surely set matters right.”

(He was most grievously mistaken.)

“How many of those biscuits do you suppose we could finish?” Yuji was eyeing the biscuits from his seat next to you in the pavilion where you and your family were sitting. Out promenading with the other families of the ton, it was a scenic and beautiful day for you to mingle with even more suitors. The joy!

“Certainly less than me,” you remarked, sipping on your tea smugly. By the irritated pout on his face, you knew you were successful at getting a rise out of your younger brother. Knowing your mother wasn’t in sight, you quickly darted for the jam-filled biscuits, and your brother quickly followed in tow; soon, you were both stuffing your faces silly with the sugary treats.

“You two are incorrigible,” Choso scrunched his nose from where he sat across from you, arms crossed. “There’s no need to inhale those biscuits. What if someone sees?”

Yuji stuck out his tongue⸺now adorned with biscuit crumbs⸺and continued gorging, while you snickered at your younger brother’s pettiness.

“Miss Itadori.”

You began coughing wildly, caught off guard, and hastily straightened your posture to greet your guest. You turned to see Lord Ino, who offered you a slight nod before acknowledging your brothers. “Lord Itadori. Mister Itadori.”

“Lord Ino, nice to meet you on such a fine day.” You try to put a smile on your face as best as you can, even though you were caught off guard. “How do you find today’s weather?”

Takuma grabs the back of your hand to kiss it. “I find it wonderful for the prospect of promenading. Do you care to do so with me?”

“Of course,” You stand up and link your elbows with Takuma’s.

“We’ll be thirty paces behind you, sister.” You both turned to look at Choso, who was giving Lord Ino his inevitable protective glare. Given Ino’s acceptable station, Choso hadn’t immediately protested, unlike the many suitors he had chased out of your manor the day before. He grabbed Yuji by the elbow, who, with cheeks comically inflated like a chipmunk hoarding acorns, was promptly dragged away. “Yuji, get up.” The last you saw of your brothers was Yuji’s futile protests, his mouth too full to be coherent⸺inevitably sending some crumbs flying onto Choso⸺and Choso swatting him for it.

As you began your walk with Lord Ino, the conversation naturally turned to the upcoming horse race. “Are you looking forward to the race this afternoon?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I am,” the lord replied. “And you?”

“Very much so,” you said, a hint of excitement in your voice. “I have a feeling that the less popular horse⸺Blaze, was it?⸺might surprise everyone. The conditions seem just right for an underdog victory; the track is soft and warm, which would favor Blaze’s build.”

Lord Ino glanced at you with a polite but unconvinced smile. “But Thunder has higher odds and more bets. It’s as simple as that.”

You couldn’t help but bristle at the word “simple,” a word that had recently come to grate on your nerves. You pressed on, though, determined to keep the conversation pleasant. “I suppose there’s some truth to that, but sometimes there’s more to a race than just the odds and popularity.”

Ino chuckled softly. “Well, a good mentor and friend of mine⸺Duke Nanami⸺agrees with the odds, and His Grace is someone I deeply respect. I tend to follow his lead⸺the duke has a way of teaching lessons without hindering one’s growth.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a trumpet blared in the distance, signaling the start of the race. You looked at him, giving him a courteous nod, gesturing in the general direction Choso and Yuji were supposed to be in. “It seems the race is about to begin. I must rejoin my family.”

You curtsied as he bowed, and you watched as he walked away, leaving you momentarily alone. You took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering irritation from the conversation. Just as you began looking for your family, you felt a presence approaching.

You turned to find Lady Mei Mei and her entourage closing in. Their expressions were a study in artful contempt, laced with curiosity and barely concealed amusement. The atmosphere between you was thick with unspoken competition, each woman silently gauging the other’s position on the social ladder.

“Miss Itadori, what a nice surprise!” Lady Mei Mei remarked, her tone dripping with false sweetness. “It appears you are alone and unchaperoned in a garden yet again! At least, according to what the rumors say. Was it part of yet another one of your charming ploys to get what you want?"

You met her gaze with cool composure, not giving her the satisfaction of a visible reaction. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

Lady Mei Mei tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as if appraising a particularly interesting specimen. "Really?" she mused, drawing out the word as though savoring it. "It’s just that Lord Gojo hasn’t spoken with you all day. Even if Whistledown commended you in the last issue, I wouldn’t expect his interest to linger." The two ladies flanking her⸺unremarkable save for their sycophantic attachment to Mei Mei⸺giggled behind their fans, as though she had delivered a crushing blow.

You allowed yourself a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes. "So I’m assuming he called upon you?" you questioned sweetly, your voice laced with feigned politeness.

For a fleeting moment, Lady Mei Mei’s carefully curated composure slipped, the faintest flicker of irritation crossing her face before she regained control. She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper meant for you alone. “None of the suitors will be interested in you any longer. The Queen may have mistakenly proclaimed you the diamond, but a pretty face, empty smiles, and hollow words can only last so long.”

“Whatever would be most convenient for you to believe.” Her words were empty and her threats dull, but you couldn’t help but let it compound on the irritation you had experienced today. But you knew better than to let your tongue loose; you were quite impulsive when you had started, and you didn’t want to start any scandal anytime soon. Instead, you held your ground, trying to maintain your composure (outwardly, at least) as Lady Mei Mei and her entourage turned to leave, their laughter echoing in your ears.

You tried to implement a few things your tutor had ingrained in you: taking deep breaths and setting your posture correctly. However, as you stood there, collecting yourself, the last thing you needed seemed to manifest before you: Satoru Gojo.

His tall figure approached you with that familiar, self-assured stride, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, Miss Itadori," he greeted, a sly smile playing on his lips. You were already irritated, and it took all your will-power to stifle a groan.

"I couldn’t help but notice you were conversing with Lord Ino," he remarked casually.

Give him a smile. "Indeed, we were enjoying a promenade. It is, after all, what young ladies and their suitors are expected to do."

“Quite the choice in company!”

KEEP up the smile. "He is a nobleman, and I am of noble descent. I fail to see your point, Mr. Gojo."

Gojo’s smile was quick and cutting. “Oh, I’ve no particular quarrel with Lord Ino. It’s simply that he’s hardly the sort I’d expect to see on your arm. After all, he’s practically Nanami’s lapdog.”

You felt the familiar irritation rising within you⸺and you were fighting for your life trying to keep a smile on your face⸺but you kept your tone measured. "And what, pray tell, are you implying by that, Mr. Gojo?"

"It’s quite simple, really⸺"

But your patience, already worn thin, snapped at that word.

"My good sir, do you not think it rather dishonorable to speak ill of others behind their backs?" Gojo began to respond, but you cut him off. "It’s curious how quickly opinions can change, is it not? Just the other evening, you seemed to hold me in rather low regard. Tell me, do you often dismiss people as ‘simple’ when they fail to meet any of the lofty expectations you have set? Or do you perhaps truly believe yourself to be at a station higher than others?"

Gojo stiffened, the smile slipping from his face as your words hit their mark. Before he could respond, Choso appeared at your side, his protective presence a welcome relief.

“Is there any problem, sister?” Choso asked, his tone polite yet firm as he glanced at Satoru, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Gojo’s gaze flicked to Choso, his irritation clear as he opened his mouth to make a cutting remark, and you couldn’t thank the gods enough for Choso’s mother hen tendencies. But the words faltered when he recognized who had interrupted. For a brief moment, surprise flashed in his eyes before he masked it with a tight-lipped smile.

You seized the moment, turning to Satoru with a sweet smile. “I think our time is up, Mister Gojo,” you said, your voice laced with venom.

Satoru hesitated for just a fraction of a second before nodding curtly, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Until next time, Miss Itadori.”

With that, he stepped back, allowing you and Choso to walk away toward where people were gathering for the race. As you moved through the crowd, you could feel Satoru’s gaze lingering on you, but you didn’t look back.

“That horse appears rather stout, does it not?” Yuji squinted against the blazing sun as he observed the horses from his seat beside you in the grandstand. “Why has it garnered so many bets?”

Choso, seated protectively on your other side, kept a steady arm linked with yours. His presence was reassuring, though your irritation was directed at the figure seated just below you. Satoru Gojo, to your endless chagrin, was sitting with Lady Mei Mei, who had all but forced her way into the seat beside him. Though he tried to appear indifferent, his signature flirty remarks flowing with ease, you noticed the subtle signs of irritation crossing his face. Whether it stemmed from Lady Mei Mei's advances or from your earlier exchange, you couldn't be sure. You refused to meet his gaze, though you could feel his eyes on you intermittently as the crowd waited for the race to begin.

“Men can be quite foolish at times,” you remarked hotly, your voice carrying just enough to be overheard. “Some people value the superficial and materialistic over true substance, much like they do with horses. Blaze, for instance, has the qualities that truly matter.”

You could almost feel Gojo’s gaze intensify, and despite yourself, you glanced in his direction. Lady Mei Mei, ever the actress, feigned a stumble, exclaiming with a coy smile, “These crowds are rather rough on a lady!”

You scoffed inwardly at her transparent attempt to press her bosom against Gojo’s arm.

“Oh my,” Gojo drawled, his voice oozing concern. “We can’t have that, can we?” Ever the gallant gentleman, he interlaced his arm with hers. “Here, for extra protection. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady shedding tears beside me.”

Mei Mei’s smirk was as satisfied as a serpent after a meal, and she batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “If I were to cry, would you console me?”

“Of course,” Gojo replied smoothly. “Though I might find myself crying should my horse lose. The bets I’ve placed are rather substantial.”

A flirtatious giggle escaped Mei Mei’s lips. “Then I shall cheer with all my might, so you needn’t suffer any losses, my lord.”

You were perilously close to tearing your hair out.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, my lady,” Gojo said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with exaggerated flourish. “But rest assured, I am quite confident of a victory today. Thunder is swift and cunning, far superior to that... other horse. It’s simple, really—Thunder will win.”

Your composure cracked. “Yuji,” you called, your voice sharp. Your brother, who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention. “Despite the other horse’s popularity, Blaze possesses the one quality universal to all champions: speed and diligence. The track conditions are in its favor.”

Yuji, caught off guard, blinked in confusion. “Yes, of course, sister,” he mumbled, clearly unsure of why you were addressing him.

“And anyone who thinks otherwise,” you continued, raising your voice slightly, “is bound to lose their money. Sorely and simply.”

Gojo matched your tone, his voice ringing out. “But of course, it’s all in good fun. There’s no need for hostility over a sport, is there? Both horses are fine contenders, though I remain convinced Thunder shall emerge victorious.”

Mei Mei tittered, parroting his sentiments, but you could hardly see straight for the anger coursing through you. Unable to hold back, you retorted, “However, it is, after all, still a race. And Blaze will win.”

By now, your exchange had drawn the attention of those around you, including your brothers. Choso and Yuji exchanged puzzled glances before Yuji asked weakly, “Are you still talking to us, sister?” Meanwhile, Choso’s protective instincts flared, his gaze darting suspiciously between you and Gojo.

Before you could reply, the horses lined up at the starting gate, and the crowd collectively rose to their feet, including Gojo. “Steady now, Thunder!” he called out, his voice brimming with confidence.

Not to be outdone, you shouted, “Come on, Blaze!”

The bell rang, and the horses surged forward, the crowd erupting in cheers. Blaze and Thunder quickly pulled ahead, the two horses locked in a fierce battle for the lead. Thunder was currently ahead, its sleek form cutting through the track with precision.

“Steady, Thunder! Keep the lead!” Gojo’s voice was full of excitement, urging his horse onward.

Your heart raced with frustration as Blaze lagged slightly behind. “You can do this, Blaze!” you urged, your voice rising above the din. Without thinking, you began whistling sharply, drawing alarmed looks from your brothers. The stares from the crowd meant nothing to you as you focused solely on the race.

Blaze, as if responding to your encouragement, began to accelerate, its powerful strides eating up the ground between it and Thunder. You noticed Thunder’s pace faltering, fatigue setting in, while Blaze surged ahead, pulling into the lead with a quarter of the race remaining.

Now it was Gojo’s turn to whistle, his voice tinged with desperation. “Straight to the finish line, Thunder! Don’t let up!”

But Blaze only widened the gap, its momentum carrying it farther ahead. You couldn’t contain your laughter, a joyous sound that bubbled up from within as Blaze crossed the finish line first, with Thunder trailing behind.

“Goddamn it,” Gojo cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable. You clapped your hands in delight, your laughter ringing out.

With deliberate grace, you placed your hands on your hips and turned to Gojo, flashing him a triumphant smile. “I’m so glad the ‘simple’ horse won,” you said, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “It seems I’ve finally bested a duke.”

Gojo’s blue eyes bore into you, their intensity searing, but you met his glare with a boisterous laugh, savoring the victory as the crowd’s cheers and claps echoed around you. Until it was only the two of you, staring each other down.

Gojo ⸺ 0, you ⸺ 1.

Now, Duchess Gojo had always had a penchant for gossip, no one escaping her eye and observation. Of course, it was now the Whistledown era, for the unknown author could observe far more than the high-profile duchess, who was the receiver of much praise and attention due to her son’s eligibility. But this eligibility had only been achieved because of her ability to direct the tide based on her reconnaissance, and in all her years, no could match her sass and direction. Except one.

"You know, Lady Itadori," the Duchess remarked, her tone laced with feigned pensiveness, "the Gojo manor in the countryside has been dreadfully quiet, and, if I may say, it has been quite some time since we last enjoyed a proper tête-à-tête.”

The two ladies stood together near the stands, choosing a more secluded spot from which to observe the horse race. Lady Itadori, her closest confidante, met the Duchess’s gaze with a gleam in her eye. "Indeed, I must agree."

For a moment, the two women stood in silence, their eyes surveying the scene before them. From the ladies flirting shamelessly to the gentlemen scrambling for the favor of the season’s debutantes, they were like spectators at a grand circus. Yet, their attention was drawn to a particular act.

Raising her fan to her lips, Lady Itadori whispered conspiratorially to the Duchess, "I might add, my diamond has been spending a considerable amount of time in your son’s company."

The Duchess met her friend’s eyes and laughed lightly. "How many days do you wager it will take in the manor?"

Lady Itadori, now fully smirking, gave a delicate shrug. "It took you and the Duke but four days."

prev. the debutante | next. the manor

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n: reader is hearing boss music rn

forced proximity whatttt

gojo when kuna ripped one in his face

comment, reblog, and send in an ask to let me know ur thots :3 memes are also appreciated <3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 month ago

Note

can i request 201, 221, and 223 with dom wooyoung from your prompts list please? maybe hubby wooyoung with baby fever as an idea but it can be anything that comes to your mind! i’m just a sucker for soft dom wooyoung😣💗

➯a/n: oh my gaaaahd 🤭 i love this, I LOVE THIS THANK YOU ANON

Baby Fever

❥Jung Wooyoung x fem reader

201 + 221 + 223: praise + creampie/breeding + body worship

✈︎queued for: sun. 18th

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not proof read, soft and intimate turned a bit rough, wedding night, pet names, lots of talk about having children, super soft dom wooyo, forehead touches (i can't help it-), wooyo borderline obsessed with having kids

♡masterlist !♡

18+. MINORS, GO AWAY.

ෆ

Wooyoung, your boyfriend, told you up front when you started dating that children were non-negotiable for him. If you didn't want kids, you wouldn't work out; because he's always wanted to be a father. And since you've always wanted to be a mother, that wasn't a problem for you.

And the more he got to know you, the more he knew. He knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children.

He always talked about getting you pregnant, knocking you up, filling you with his babies — you get the idea. Even though you were on birth control until the moment was right, he always said how beautiful you're going to be when you were carrying and how much of a wonderful mother you will be.

And Wooyoung, now your husband, is fucking over the goddamn moon at the fact you got off your birth control a week before your wedding. You've been together for a long, long time. You've moved in together and gotten married and built a life and one thing is missing —

"How many again, Babe?" Wooyoung asks with a giddy smile as he kisses across your neck, down to your shoulder.

It's your wedding night, and he's practically buzzing with happiness.

"You know how many kids I want~" You laugh softly at his eagerness, pushing back his hair to get a good look at him.

"Tell me again anyway," he smiles as looks up at you.

"Let's have... three?"

His eyes light up. "Three?" Usually, the answer is two. You'll love them no matter the gender, but you always fantasized about a little boy and a little girl. "Really, three?"

"Yeah, what if the two get on each other's nerves?" You giggle as he wraps his arms around you tightly, burying his face in your chest, "plus, more of me and you would make the world a beautiful place."

He almost forgets that he's already balls deep inside of you until he throbs, your words shooting straight through his heart and then downward.

"I love you," he says it like it's the first time he's ever done so. Like it's an admission and not a reminder of what he's told you a million times, what he's shown you over your years together. "I can't believe I'm so lucky," he hums as he resumes kissing every inch of skin on your shoulder, rolling his hips slowly.

You close your eyes blissfully, wrapping your legs around him to hold him impossibly closer.

"My gorgeous wife," he moans into your chest, leaving kiss after kiss after kiss as he slowly thrusts into you. His hands rub up and down your sides, caressing you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

Because to him — you are.

"All mine," he grins, lacing his fingers with yours and watching your ring catch the light.

"And you're all mine," you say with a moan, free hand draping over his neck as he leans back up and rests his forehead against yours.

Not a hint of anything other than pure adoration as he traces your features. "You're so pretty," he blushes ever so slightly as he starts thrusting faster, breathing in your gasps as your jaw drops. "You'll be the prettiest mama ever."

"Fuck- Young-" You stutter as he sets a fast pace, grazing against your g-spot every time he bottoms out. He pecks your lips softly, going on to kiss all over your face shockingly gentle for the way he pounds into you. You squeeze his hand tightly, eyes brimming with tears from the intensity.

He hasn't cum for a week, which is unheard of for the man. He's usually on you every chance he gets; but ever since you got off your birth control he's been 'saving' it all up. You tried to tell him that's not how it works, but he just pouted and insisted that he'd be able to fill you up at least four times on your wedding night.

"Don't cry," he hums before placing another kiss to your lips. "You're taking me so well, Babe~ I tried to be gentle, I'm sorry but- ah, fuck~" He wraps one of his arms under your knee, holding it up and driving himself deeper. "It's been so long! I just need to fill you up, I need to, I need to," every soft plead comes with a kiss and a rough thrust.

"It's okay, l-love," you say between his kisses, arching off the bed when he hits a particularly tender place inside of you. "Give me your babies any way you want to~"

His breath catches in his throat as he realizes that he can actually do that. He can actually get you pregnant, "oh, fuck... I'm gonna- fuck!" His eyebrows press together, suddenly slammed with his orgasm. He plunges deep, trembling as he spills his seed inside of you. The first time he ever had the chance to do so and have it be effective.

The fact of that alone is making him hard all over again. Images of you all round and glowing with his child flashing in his ecstasy filled brain.

He's already grinding into you again before his first orgasm is even over.

Wooyoung has the worst case of baby fever ever, and you're the only one he wants the cure from.

ෆ

#stars ask and receive #request #ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #ateez x reader #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut

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solifloris · 6 months ago

Text

≡;-꒰ 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑

╰┈➤ ❝ yoichi isagi x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (without plot), aged-up isagi (obv), snowed in, kissing and making out, heavy petting, slight clit play, slight nipple play, slight dry humping, oral (f. receiving), praise, body worship, veerryyyy slight degradation (use of "slut" like twice), overstimulation, use of pet names "baby" "pretty". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : ~1.6k

an : had this queued up for christmas day !!!! as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event, merriesttttttt christmas to @eevees-hobbies !!! 🥰🥰 hoping you like this and that i did isagi justice, i do love him dearly and i was super happy to see him on your list hehe >< sending soooo much love and joy and christmas cheer your way!!!

How it started, you couldn't quite tell. But the colorful sets of fairy lights lining the living room ceiling were all the light you'd left on, and the snow and the wind outside seemed insistent on knocking on your windows. Views were completely blocked out in a full, snow-white color; the heating system was almost doing very little to keep you from thinking about the blizzard outside.

Because it was cold.

And it would have remained cold… that is, had it not been for your boyfriend running his hands all over your clothed body, slipping beneath your shirt at the last minute. His touch was light and gentle, more to ease you into comfort than anything else, really…But you knew he was only teasing. Not to your surprise, his lips were on yours in mere seconds, body shifting to cage you beneath him.

He was warm.

This was warm.

His touches, no matter how feather-light he was dead-set on keeping them, left trails of heat in their wake. It was enough to draw out a shaky breath from you; enough to try—to no avail—to pull away for some more air.

He wouldn't quite let you.

Instead, you felt the corners of his lips curl up into a smirk, and it was warmth enough that you could melt.

"Mmfph—Yoi…chi…!"

His hands lay deftly beneath your sweater as he kissed you, tracing soft patterns into your skin. But even speaking was barely an option; a muffled "Mmm… Shh, m'tryin' to keep you warm…." was all you got in reply before his lips crashed back into yours.

Eyes closed, moans and gasps swallowed into the way you couldn't keep your hands off each other. And his hips moved to settle between your legs— Not warm enough, was what you figured he was thinking.

Because a low moan tore from your throat as he moved to grind against you, the outline of his bulge neatly slotting itself between the clothed shape of your folds. "Fuck, shit, baby…." he murmured against your lips, grunting with every rutting motion that he couldn't help himself from making. "Feels so good… Mmh, shit, m'never gettin' enough of your pussy—"

You could lose yourself in this. Even as he trailed kisses down the side of your jaw, relishing the way you arched yourself up into him, matching the now-frantic rolling of hips against hips… Even as your mind began to slowly peel away the layers of the reality around you, leaving only… him.

Him, him, him, him, him.

And when he looked at you then, a thin string of saliva connected his swollen lips to the patch on your neck where he'd just now left a stinging, red mark. His hips slowed down, but he was breathless when he spoke next—

"Baby, can I taste you?"

He licked his lips at the mere thought, eyes clouding with lust and desire in that oh-so-familiar way you knew well enough. The image before you made you swoon; you could feel the wetness pooling into your panties, practically smearing arousal on the fabric.

But he wasn't finished speaking.

Instead, he trailed a hand lower, lower—

The pads of his fingers caressed the skin of your stomach, before reaching down to cup your mound.

"It's just… You're so beautiful, baby."

He could groan at the mere sight of you.

"Makes me wanna do all sorts of stuff to you, and worship you… And, shit—you know I love your taste."

Slow caresses over your panties had your hips bucking. He knew your body by heart; could easily glide over the seeping wetness to rub tight circles over your clit. Obscene squelching noises echoed out with every movement, and it didn't take long for your eyes to shut, lips parted in pleasurable moans.

"Yeahhh, that's my pretty baby…"

He pressed into your panties as he leaned down, nuzzling against your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—"So fuckin' pretty."

He looked up to give you a silly grin, nearly sighing at the sight of the blush tinting your cheeks.

And before he would slot himself between your legs, right where he wanted to be, he leaned up to give you another kiss. It was sloppier this time, not much concerned with any technique, just clearly wanted to have his lips on yours once more—his hand reached up, stroking your curls, sighing into the kiss.

"God, I love you." He murmured when he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. "Y'know that, right? I'm so damn lucky to have you. Thanks for always being with me, baby…"

His words made you smile, and it was your turn to reach out to cup his face.

No words needed to be shared, not really—even without all the sappy confessions, you'd have known the truth of those words either way.

But you nuzzled against his nose, and said it anyway:

"I love you too, Yoichi."

He chuckled against your lips, planting another quick kiss. "Yeah? Now m'gonna want to kiss you all over…"

He was true to his word—lips back to trailing over every inch of your exposed skin, hands sliding back up your sweater to knead at your breasts. He'd sneak in a lick against your hardened nipples, wetting the fabric of your sweater in the process, but nearly grinning at the resulting visible outline of your peaks.

With every moan and buck of your hips in response, his touches and kisses grew more daring—worshiping every inch that he could, leaving a spark of heat to settle into your skin.

And then his hands intertwined with yours as he kissed atop your mound, slowly inching towards your clit. Your legs moved to rest on his shoulders, and he looked at you—there was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "You don't mind me spendin' hours here, right?" he joked, giving your hands a squeeze.

It made you laugh, because it was just so like him to want to, but—his tongue darted out, licking a stripe over your panties, tasting the wetness that had completely coated it. The laugh quickly turned into a moan. It was a sensation that made you jolt, nearly closing your legs, and he looked at you with a pout. As if to retaliate, he pushed his nose right up against your clit, and gave you another lick. And another. And another.

"Open up, pretty," he mumbled.

It was difficult.

Every lick he made against your cunt drove the fabric of your panties right into you, clinging to your folds and nearly melting into it enough that it might as well have not been there. The added friction it provided was perfect, the sensations forcing your thighs to close around him—

"No no no, pretty baby… Y'gotta keep them open f'me…"

His hands left yours to spread your legs open, pinning them to the mattress.

A smile played at his lips.

"See? Just like this. All spread out like a good girl…" He placed a kiss to your clit, and momentarily slid a hand down to push your panties to the side.

He licked his lips.

"You're such a slut for me, baby, look at how wet you are… It's perfect…"

You keened.

A whimper fell from your lips at the use of the term, pussy fluttering around virtually nothing.

He chuckled, because he knew it was what you wanted—but he didn't quite repeat himself.

Instead, with no more use for words, he buried his face into your cunt, licking and slurping up all of the juice that you could offer him.

He was right, of course; he could absolutely spend hours here between your legs, and you would let him.

"Y-yoi—Yoichi—!"

Broken cries of his name began to fall from your lips in an instant, grinding your clit into his nose, allowing is tongue to dig into your hole and take in every last drop. He would suck, coaxing as much as he could, lewd squelches echoing in the room and mixing in with your moans like a symphony to his ears.

"Mmmm, such a tasty pussy," came his muffled voice, eyes closed as he lost himself in you.

It was sticky, and messy, and obscene—

Your hands moved to grip his hair, pulling him against you as your hips moved, and his nails nearly dug into your thighs.

"Ichi!" you cried out, arching your back.

His mouth moved over your clit to suck, tongue flicking side to side in the way he knew you liked it best.

"I-Ichi! I-I'm gonna—!"

He didn't stop.

Wouldn't stop.

Not even as your thighs shook in your orgasm, pussy twitching, a long, drawn-out moan escaping your lips.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept going, licking, and sucking, and gulping down your juices—

"M'not done, baby. Be a good slut f'me and lemme eat s'more."

He said it again.

You cried out.

The phrase tumbled around in your mind, almost as if planting itself right in there, and you were sensitive, and swollen. But he liked it that way—and it felt so, so, so good. You almost felt yourself get wetter at his words, sopping wet, and it was more than enough to spur him to take even more.

At this point? You were well aware that he'd meant it.

He might as well spend his hours eating you out—

At least it would keep you warm.

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock isagi #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi smut #isagi yoichi smut #isagi x reader #isagi x you #isagi yoichi x reader

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wip · 1 year ago

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A very very minor thing I have been curious about for a while, and I'm finally asking: why do you calculate queue posting times the way you do? For example, if I set my queue to post 3x a day, naively I would expect it to post every 8 hours. But in reality it posts every 6 hours with a 12 hour gap between days. Why complicate the math like that?

Answer: Hello @circumference-pie!

Buckle up y’all, it’s story time again!

First: nobody who works at Tumblr right now was a part of the work of planning the default queue implementation, which was more than ten years ago. So the full story behind “Why does it work that way?” has unfortunately been lost to the sands of time. All we can do is tell you how it works today and surmise some reasons why. The queue is actually a very clever system and part of how it works explains some of why it works the way it does. Also, there have been attempts to do what you ask—we still have “Queue 2.0” available in your Tumblr Labs settings, which tries to get closer to how you expect things to work.

Anyway! How the queue works today is not actually a queue in the traditional sense. There is no single list of posts that are in “your queue”. Instead, when you “Add to queue” after creating a post, we’re actually scheduling it to post at a future time, as if you had used the “Schedule post” option instead. We’re just calculating that time on your behalf when you use “Add to queue”, based on your settings, and how many other scheduled posts you have already. We use a secondary “index” model, called “ScheduledPost”, to keep track of posts you have scheduled on your blog. We do mark the ones that are a part of “your queue”, but the data model doesn’t keep one list of your “queue” per se.

You can see this in action on your blog, hiding in plain sight. If you add a bunch of posts to your queue, and then schedule a post for a specific future date, you’ll see both in your blog’s “queue” list, side by side. Because technically to us, they’re the same thing: queued posts are really just another kind of scheduled post, relying on the same always-running service to publish scheduled posts across all of Tumblr. Here’s a fun fact: we typically have about ~14.5 million future posts to publish from this list at any given time and are publishing hundreds of these scheduled posts every second.

So when you’re adding a new post to your queue, what we’re doing behind the scenes is starting at the beginning of your “day”, and creating time slots based on your queue settings. If a time slot is already filled, we move on to the next one. That’s why the default queue scheduler works how you describe—we’re trying to fill those “slots” based on the start of the day, rather than trying to divide the calendar day evenly. This just makes it much simpler for us to understand, scale, and predict when our “peaks” will be. At peak times, the publish-scheduled-posts service is publishing tens of thousands of posts in a manner of seconds. We did rewrite that post-publishing part of this architecture a few years ago to improve its efficiency and solve a lot of “lost post” bugs, but we didn’t change how “Add to queue” works.

However, the Queue 2.0 project available in Labs was an attempt to change the queue system to work as you expect—instead of starting at [beginning of day] and creating enough slots to fit [number of slots] every [number of hours], it tries to divide the calendar day into [number of slots] and fit the result back to the original algorithm’s mapping of the day. We never productionized this alternative approach, because it has a few bugs that some blogs hit in extreme cases, and we’ve never had time to fully fix them. It also can cause a bit of weirdness when time zones diverge, like with daylight savings time. Also, a lot of people prefer the default algorithm, and we haven’t thought of a nice way to transition everyone from one to the other. So for now, both options exist, and you can choose which algorithm for queue-slot-generating you want to use. We hope that makes sense!

While complicated, it is a great example of a system built by engineers to make sense and be scalable and predictable. But sometimes these kinds of systems, while clever, aren’t very intuitive to understand without digging into how they work.

Thanks for your question, and keep ’em coming.

#feature #posting #queue #backend

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lovelyhan · 2 years ago

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Okay, you still have a spot. Great. I thought they'd be filled so, I didn't send anything lmao. Insomnia has its perks.

This is deeply self-indulgent and I'd love more Hao from you. So, hear me out, Minghao with a breeding kink. I feel like it doesn't get enough attention especially given how much that man gravitates towards babies lol. Like he and Reader visit Cheol's and see him with his new baby and, Hao's like oh, wait a minute. I think this is making me feel some type of way.

— terrified ⟢

minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. from your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. so your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.

★ FEATURING; minghao x f!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of pregnancy and childbirth but nothing too graphic

★ NOTES; i scheduled to post this when it hit exactly 12 midnight in rj's timezone just in time for her birthday :> (pls look away if i got the schedule wrong,,,) i'm not really back yet bcs this is a queued post, but happy birthday, beloved. i love you more than i can say directly, so i decided to just write a fic for you instead! hopefully, i can come back and torment you with every other seventeen member BUT cheol soon :3c

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, multiple rounds, mating press, hao is just really feral in this yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ MINGHAO TAGLIST; @haoxiaoba - @jeonride - @coffeestay - @hyvnae

In the height of his career as an idol, Xu Minghao filmed a certain piece of content where he was asked a normal question to which he responded with a slightly controversial answer.

"How many kids do you want in the future?"

"Oh, It's not me who'll give birth, so I can't be the one to decide."

It's a response that made waves on the Internet during the week the video was first posted—a reaction from both fans and casual netizens alike that Minghao definitely did not anticipate that he would receive when they packed up the set several months prior.

It's pretty much the logical answer, isn't it? Sure, he'd love to have kids someday, but the quantity isn't something he should decide on without his non-existent partner's input.

Minghao learns further down the road, when he finally meets and eventually gets together with you, that the number of children isn't the only thing that a couple should mutually agree on.

"I don't really want to have kids..."

You tell him this during a spontaneous date he deigned to take you out on. He just came back from a tour packed with a long list of stops and even if he should probably catch up on some sleep, he opted to have a picnic with you at the park because of how much he missed you.

Your cheeks are stuffed with a few bites of pie, thoughtfully chewing as you wait for Minghao's response to your sudden confession. If he didn't know you as well as he does, he wouldn't have sensed the waves of anxiety rolling off of you in waves—as if you're waiting for him to get mad at you for simply being honest.

Mingao heaves a quiet sigh before he pulls you into his chest—a tiny squeak caught in your throat after swallowing your food.

"Hey, that doesn't make me love you any less," he murmurs, pressing his lips on top of your head. "I know bearing children can be terrifying and painful, so I completely understand."

For a moment, your brow dips, a soft frown tugging at your lips. "I-It's not that I'm terrified... Okay, maybe a little. But—"

Minghao promptly silences your protests with a firm kiss on your lips—one that you find yourself easily melting into given the time and distance that's separated you until this moment. He smiles against your mouth, glad that you can be honest with him about things like this.

"No buts, if you don't want to have kids, that's alright," he murmurs before pulling away. "Maybe we can just get a dog. You're already close with Mingyu, aren't you?"

That makes you snicker. "You're so mean."

It's a brief exchange that Minghao doesn't really think about again for several years. After all, his career as an idol was at an all-time high. As much as he wants to settle down with you and start the next phase of his life, he's certain that he shouldn't step out of the limelight just yet.

But it doesn't take long for time to catch up with him.

One by one, his brothers are off to fulfill their mandatory service and the group's activities are at a momentary standstill. Those who were left behind go their separate ways for a while—Joshua expanding his solo promotions in the US and Jun taking up more brand sponsorships in China.

Minghao chose to stay in Seoul mostly for your sake, and the fact that this city is the only common ground between him and the rest of the boys. When Vernon and Seungkwan enlisted together, it was around the time that Seungcheol and Jeonghan came back with overgrown buzzcuts, while Joshua landed in Incheon for the first time in two years.

It was also the time when you and Minghao got married.

The event was celebrated among close friends and family with only a brief news article about the marriage of SEVENTEEN's The8 allowed by the company to circulate for a while. They did a good job at keeping things hush hush, and Minghao thinks it's only because it's been more than a decade since his debut that they're being so lenient.

But even if they weren't, nothing would stop Xu Minghao from making you his wife either way.

It takes a few more years for all thirteen of them to get back together again, but when they do, the first thing that Seungcheol does is invite everybody to his daughter's first birthday.

Minghao has met baby Suri a handful of times in the past. Seungcheol's wife visits them at the company from time to time, wheeling Suri's stroller into the practice room as her uncles all fawn over her until she's crying. For some reason, the only people the infant seems to tolerate are Jun and Seokmin.

It's pretty much the same scene during the party. Seokmin and Jun are the only ones allowed within a one-meter radius from Seungcheol's baby girl to prevent an incurable crying episode in the middle of the celebration. Soonyoung was not happy with the fact that he can't personally give Suri the little tiger plush he got for her, but Minghao thinks it's for the best.

But then, as everyone was finishing up with dinner, he saw you walk up to Seungcheol's wife with a familiar sparkle in your eyes. You're staring at Suri who's all dressed up for her party with a look of endearment—nearly gushing with how animatedly you're speaking with her mother.

Minghao doesn't think much of it. You and her have always gotten along for as long as he can remember.

What does catch him completely off-guard, however, is the fact that Suri is being handed into your arms and you let it all happen without much of a fuss.

Chan was in the middle of telling him about this martial arts move that he'd wanted to choreograph into a dance but as much as he wants to give the younger man advice, his gaze is completely glued to the sight of you with Suri in cradled against your chest.

It's one thing to see a woman holding a baby. It's another to see his wife do the same thing.

"Hao, look!" You quickly call him over when you catch his eyes in the crowd. "Suri thinks I'm worthy! It's been five minutes since her mom handed her over and she's still not crying."

The sight is so adorable that Minghao abruptly excuses himself from his conversation with Chan to rush towards you with clipped strides. His heart thunders inside his chest as you visibly dote on Seungcheol's daughter, and he isn't sure if he wants to give the feeling a name.

It eventually fades into a barely there throb in his chest when he drives back home for the evening. You quickly fill the silence with your attempts at looking at some properties in this newly opened residential area near the freeway and as always, your husband lends a willing ear.

"It's a little far from your company building, but it's much more spacious than our apartment right now," you chuckle, face alight with the glow of your screen as you scroll through the property's details on your phone.

Minghao hums before pulling over at a red light. "Hm? Isn't our place alright as it is? Why would we need the extra space?"

He half-expected you to answer with something along the lines of, so I can have more space to keep my book collection in or so you can have enough room to practice at home if you want to.

But all you do is let out an uneasy laugh, locking your phone before depositing it in the cupholder on the middle console.

"Y-Yeah, you're right. That was a bit silly of me."

The next time Minghao unwittingly makes the connection with you and the prospect of having kids is when Seungkwan's nephews are in Seoul for a couple of weeks.

While he and his sister are off to run errands every now and again, they typically ask Jun to watch over the kids because out of all the members, he's definitely the only one who can be trusted around children. Even more than those who are actual fathers.

But it just so happens that Jun is all the way in Shanghai to shoot for a historical drama, and for some reason, Seungkwan thought it would be a good idea to drop his nephews off at Minghao's doorstep.

"You're pretty decent with kids and your wife can take care of anything," Seungkwan praises while he ushers four year-old Hanjun into the room and eight month-old Jiren into your arms. "We'll be back for them after lunch!"

It's just as Seungkwan said though: Minghao is pretty decent with kids and you can take care of anything.

While waiting for lunch to cook in the kitchen, you both do your part in entertaining the children—Minghao pointing out different shapes and animals in the picture book from Hanjun's backpack while you quietly feed Jiren the baby formula that Seungkwan's sister prepared in advance.

So distracted with the sight of your soft gaze transfixed on the baby in your arms, Minghao barely notices it when the soup he's prepared starts to overflow from the pot. You scold him for being so distracted before he shuffles into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

As he salvages what's left of the soup, Minghao tries to pull himself together. Sure, it's been a few years since you two tied the knot, but you made it clear years ago that children wasn't on the table when it comes to the two of you.

It's something that you both agreed on even before marriage, and Minghao isn't about to break your trust by saying he suddenly wants kids all because seeing them in your arms makes his brain short-circuit. He has more tact than that.

"Is it just me or are you acting a little weird?"

For some reason, you choose later that evening to corner him in the quiet of your bedroom. Minghao was just getting ready to sleep when you turned to face him with a frown.

"Weird how?" he wonders, praying that you wouldn't single him out like you probably will.

"I don't know, you were looking at me funny when I was giving Jiren his formula," you point out. "You only do that when you want something from me."

Your words make him sigh. Of course his wife would catch onto every nuance of his actions—even from his stare alone.

"And what do you think it is that I want?"

"Xu Minghao, we're already married. Cut the games and just tell me what's on your mind."

God, he really couldn't love you any more than he does now.

It takes several minutes, but you and your husband eventually migrate to the living room—cups of hot chocolate in hand as you patiently wait for Minghao to open up about something he's been keeping to himself for a while now.

He's rightfully nervous—hands clammy around the ceramic of the mug that matches yours. It's Game of Thrones-themed with a dragon's neck acting as a handle. You kept insisting at the souvenir shop that its selling point was the unique design, but Minghao was pretty sure you were excited by the fact that the printed text changes color depending on the drink's temperature.

With that memory suddenly drifting into his mind, the tension ebbs from his shoulders. Though he tends to forget, you're the last person who'll condemn him for what he's about to say to you.

"I've been thinking of starting a family with you," he admits—hitting his point straight to the roots. "But... I always brushed it aside because I know how you feel about kids. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

It's in times like this where silence is more deafening than actual noise. It rings in Minghao's ears as you watch the steam rise from your mug and your husband lets himself stew in his anticipation, wondering how you'll choose to respond to his honesty.

Will you laugh at him? Will you be angry with him? It's a subject that the two of you rarely broach with each other, so he isn't quite sure how to handle whatever reaction you'll grace him with.

What Minghao never would've expected, however, is for you to crack him a relieved smile.

"Me? I thought you didn't want kids because having one would be detrimental to your career," you chuckle, taking the first few sips from your hot chocolate. "And you always kinda shrugged it off whenever I tried to ease the topic into the conversation."

"I did?" Your husband scowls. "When did I do that?"

"After Suri's birthday party? When I was showing you a couple of new houses?"

Oh. Oh.

"Shit," Minghao mutters, embarrassed. "I almost forgot about that. I'm sorry, love. It didn't occur to me because you said that you didn't want to have kids—"

"One time," you interject with a groan. "That was one time, Hao. God, can't a woman change her mind about wanting kids with her husband?"

He blinks. "But you said you'd be terrified."

"No, you said I'd be terrified. As an educated guess and to some extent, you're right. But it's not the having-a-kid part or the childbirth part that terrifies me, Hao." You let yourself breathe for a couple of seconds and it comes out shaky. Minghao has to resist the urge to reach out to embrace you.

"What terrifies me is becoming a mother."

The silence of the living room thickens when you say the words and Minghao feels his chest flutter with that same feeling from the first time he saw you cradling Seungcheol's daughter in your arms. Despite the questions swimming inside his head, your husband keeps his silence and lets you continue.

"Like, yeah, the pregnancy is going to be hell and god knows whether I'll even be alive after giving birth, but..." You hesitate, refusing to meet Minghao's eyes for reasons that elude him.

"Raising a child so they would grow up to become a good person is even more daunting to me... What if I accidentally teach them something wrong? What if they end up hating me because I can't keep up with whatever trends kids would come up with in a few years? What if they love you more than they love me?"

Minghao laughs airily. "Is that last part really a necessary measure?"

"It is," you insist before breathing out a laugh of your own. "Urgh, you get the point! It's just that... I'm not against having kids, but the responsibility that comes with raising one overwhelms me whenever I think about it."

"You know you're not in it alone, right? I'm your husband. Of course I'll be here to support you however I can," Minghao sighs before finishing the rest of his drink. "Whether you want kids or not, I'll go with either choice because I want what you want, yeah?"

"Yeah. I do know that. I think I've always known, but at the same time, I didn't want to tie you down," you murmur, tracing the handle of your mug with a small pout. "If we have a kid together, they might take up the time meant for your schedules. I never want to burden you like that..."

Your husband sets down his mug on the coffee table, carding his fingers through his hair with a disbelieving sigh. You were starting to fear that you might've annoyed him by accident, but when Minghao leans closer so that your eyes are leveled, you realize that is far from the case.

"Baby, our wedding rings are literally tattoos," he reminds you while reaching for your hand—pressing the inked fingers together. "I'm as tied down as I can be and you've never heard a peep out of me after all this time, yeah? So don't you ever think you or our future kids would be burdens to me."

Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Kids? Plural?"

"Hey, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want what I want," you interrupt with a roll of your eyes. "I get it Hao, you're a gentleman. But what if I told you I want you to fuck me on this couch right now and give me your kids?"

The wording is so crass that it could only be seen as a joke, except the reaction it incites from Minghao is leagues more intense than a mere joke would. The mental image injects a rush of corrosive want straight into his bloodstream and Minghao swears it makes him a little lightheaded.

Your husband lets out a shuddering sigh. quickly lunging after you to pluck the mug out of your grasp and safely place it on top of the coffee table. When you look up at him so prettily as he cages you on the couch, the sight makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Then I want that, too."

Logically speaking, you and Minghao can't just flip the switch and go into full babymaking mode after a heartfelt conversation and a bunch of impulsive decisions.

For one, you were still on birth control. It would take some time to wean yourself off it and you'd have to ask your doctor if it was safe to stop taking the pills at this point in your life.

Next was that Minghao and the rest of the guys are going to be preoccupied with their latest album—one where all thirteen men are back together after years of being separated. It'll go on for a couple of months and maybe a year if he's going to take their tour schedules into account.

And because he doesn't want to be absent in any milestone during your hypothesized child's life, you and your husband mutually decided not to actively try for a kid just yet.

But that doesn't mean you can't pretend.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt's gripping me so tight," Minghao groans, nearly hissing as he slides his cock against the velvety heat of your walls. "You want my load in you, pretty? You want to me to pump you full until it's dripping out of your pretty pussy?"

With coherence having long left your mind, you arch your back even higher as your husband continues to plough you into the mattress. "Y-Yes, yes yes! Hao, feels s-so fucking good!"

He chortles quietly and even with your cheek pressed against the sheets, you can still picture the smirk plastered on his face. "Pretty baby's in love with my cock. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"More," you whimper, the muscles of your pussy tightening around his length as he plunges in and out of your sopping entrance. "W-Want more, Hao. Need you to fuck me harder..."

Your husband is quick to comply with your wishes, gathering your hair with one hand while keeping your hips in place with the other. Minghao slams his hips brutally against yours, making stars dance in the seams of your vision as the head of his fat cock bullies its way into your leaking hole.

He's so deep, you can feel him prying your cervix open with a promise that you'll be filled to the brim if you behave tonight. And with all those years of being a professional dancer under his belt, it's no surprise that he's got enough stamina to wreck you more times than you can handle.

The first orgasm blindsides you completely. He'd just been whispering both sweet and filthy nothings into your ear when it washes over you like a tidal wave—inevitable, inescapable.

(Doing so fucking good for me, love. Taking my cock like a good, good wife. You'll take my cum just as well, won't you? Keep it inside so it'll take and you'll be swollen with my child. Then everybody will know you're mine.)

The second time it happens is mere seconds after Minghao's own orgasm. His thrusts have started to lose their practiced cadence and even if you've been in this situation countless times before, the euphoria that sings in your veins makes it feel like the first time all over again.

Minghao's cock twitches before his cum spurts in thick ropes inside your tight cunt—filling you with a warm sensation that has you biting down his neck to stifle your moans. The motion of his hips slows to a crawl as Minghao feels you clamp down on his length. Your pussy gushes around him with a delicious grip that brings him dangerously close to another orgasm with how good you feel around him.

"Fuck, baby," he swears, voice still hoarse with need despite the fact that he's fucking you into overflowing. "I love you. There's no one else I'd want to have a family with."

"T-There better not be," you say cheekily before Minghao is flipping you around so that you're lying on your back. The sensation of his cum dripping out of your ruined pussy makes your skin tingle with excitement, and the fact that his ravenous gaze is trained on your body isn't lost on you.

"Be a good wife for me and hold your thighs up," he whispers lowly and it takes you mere seconds to comply. "That's my girl."

You preen at his praise—no matter how pathetic it would make you seem. After all, if there's anyone who get reduced you into a cockdrunk mess, it's most certainly your husband.

Minghao doesn't waste any more time, he pumps his cock into full hardness for a few moments—refractory period be damned—before gliding the head of his cock against your slit. Your thighs twitch every time be brushes against your clit, making you cry out with desperation as he gloats at your misery.

"Minghao," you beg, trying your best to hold your thighs up just like he asked all while he's taking his sweet time admiring your pussy. "Fuck me more. Want you to fill me up even more."

"Needy little thing," he chuckles. "You want my kids that badly? If I fuck you too much, you might actually get pregnant, love."

"Don't care," you practically sob. "I want it. I want you. All of you—even your kids."

Fuck. He really, really fucking loves you.

Minghao needs little encouragement after that, gripping his cock tightly as he guides himself back inside you.

The new position makes it easier for your husband to pound into you—the weight of his thrusts pressing you into the bed with enough intensity to make the wooden enforcements of your bed groan from the effort he's exerting. He splits you open on his cock, spreading your folded thighs as far as he can as he drills inside of you with the promise of another load.

"So pretty and pliant for me," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your nose all while the squelch of your cunt with each pass of his cock echoes in the bedroom. "My perfect wife. You'll let me breed this pussy once all's said and done, won't you?"

You nod all too eagerly. "Yes, Hao! I'll let you use my pussy however you want. Just please make me come again!"

"So demanding," your husband sighs with a wicked smile as one of his hands trails between your legs. "Hold those thighs nice and open for me, love. You'll feel even better soon."

"W-Wait, I—"

Your protests quickly melt into a hiss of pleasure when Minghao applies ample pressure on your clit—lathering his fingers with your slick before tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

He knows you so well, been with you for so long, that Minghao already knows the ins and outs of your body. Your husband claims that making you come undone with his own fingers is a practiced art and that he'll never forget about it until the day he does.

So it's no surprise how quickly Minghao manages to make you unravel at the seams when he couples his intense thrusts with the added stimulus to your clit. You're creaming around his cock in no time—muffling your cries in the crook of your lover's neck as he fucks into you with the intention of filling you up even more.

"I love you," Minghao rasps as he tucks your head beneath his chin, pinpointing the height of his own pleasure. "I'll want no one else but you, baby. No one."

Shakily, through a haze of delirium, you manage to say, "I-I love you too, Hao. I'll always be yours as long as—f-fuck—you'll always be mine."

You twitch violently beneath the weight of Minghao's body and the sight of you so fucked dumb on his cock eventually pushes him over the edge. Your husband comes with a sharp breath, his white hot cum gushing into your pussy until it drips onto the sheets.

It's only when you've come down from that post-coital high that you realize Minghao is looking at you as if you hung up all the stars in the sky. You respond with a weak smack against his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble weakly. "I might think you're in love with me."

"Y/N, we're already married."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

As Minghao does the honors of cleaning you up after roughing you up all evening, you quickly realize that, really, there's no reason to be terrified at all.

Not when your husband will be by your side every step of the way.

⟢ end notes: i wrote this in a haze so if there are any technical writing errors, i implore you to just ignore them for my sake <3 happy birthday again to my soulmate, rj! i hope you enjoy your day to the fullest and i also hope you like this gift i wrote for you hehe ^\\\^ like hao to the reader, i'll always be w you every step of the way (i'm just a lil busy rn, so i hope you forgive me !!)

#seventeen smut #the8 smut #minghao smut #svthub #minghao x reader #seventeen fanfic #the8 x reader #full length fic 📚#lovelyhan #💭 request #💘 mutuals #rj 🍷#q: i always need queue 🐇

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sugurusfavemonkey · 5 months ago

Text

HIGH ACHIEVER - TWO: CHANGING LIKE THE CURRENT

summary: You've always prided yourself on your grades but when Suguru enters the scene, competing for the top spot in your major becomes more than just a matter of honor. What happens when you're forced to work together on a long project (and so what if he happens to be just your type)?

pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

word count: 2.7k

content: college AU; academic rivals to lovers; short series; mutual hatred attraction; afab!reader; angst/comfort; reader is described as being shorter than Suguru (but then again, the man is about 6'3' so who isn't?); smut (in future chapters - MDNI)

♪playlist♪

+more Jujutsu Tech College AU

previous chapter

"At long last, some progress!" Satoru threw himself on his best friend's bed carelessly, "with the way they absolutely despise you though I gotta say, even I couldn't see that coming. What did you do to actually get them to agree with that? Blackmailing? Threatening?" he shot up from his laid position with a dramatic gasp, "did you finally confess your undying devotion?"

Geto tsked at his theatrical behavior, eyes never straying from the pages of the book set on the desk in front of him. He was more than used to Gojo's antics to the point where it didn't even bother him anymore.

"Yaga got tired of the back and forth and decided to punish us with a group project, see if we learn to work together or something." He decided to explain only to avoid listening to Satoru's endless musing.

"Ah. That does make a bit more sense. Not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be…" Satoru sighed, "how boring."

Suguru wheeled around his swivel chair and faced Satoru with an appeasing smile, but his eyes betrayed his annoyance. "Don't you have a test to study for, Satoru?"

"Why? I'm gonna ace it anyway," he pushed himself up and away from the bed, casually walking towards his friend.

"Of course you will." Suguru ignored his approach, choosing instead to turn back to his desk.

"No need to be sardonic, Suguru. I'm sure you'll do just as well. We are the best, after all," he paused minutely, a large beam forming on his face, "though I'm slightly better."

Satoru leaned over his shoulder, reaching one arm around to close the book with a loud thud and picking up the phone his friend had discarded to the side before he started his studies and unlocking it with a naturalness that suggested he did it often. Suguru tried to protest, once more twirling the chair around to follow Satoru's movement with his eyes, hands clenching around the chair's arms.

"What are you-"

"Now, when are you gonna text her?" He interrupted Suguru, scrolling through the cell, "where even is her contact?" Satoru wondered in a whisper before giving up and pushing the device against Suguru's chest, "just do it already!"

"Satoru…" he groaned, grasping the cell in fear it fell as Satoru dropped his hold on it and walked backward.

"Chop, chop," the white-haired jokester clapped his hands. "You're stalling, pretty boy!"

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you anymore."

"Because I'm the most incredible person you've ever met and you love me?"

"Keep telling yourself that." He retorted half-heartedly, but Satoru was already back at the bed, his Switch held above his head as he queued up Digimon World.

Suguru's attention was lured back to the device on his hand then. He drew in a breath in foreboding, staring at the list open on his phone, your contact glaring back at him as he remembered the contempt with which you treated him, the adorable way you frowned in anger at each of his jabs...

"Fuck it," he murmured to himself before opening up a new conversation:

Hey. It's Suguru. I was wondering when we could meet.

He looked at the words after sending the first text and winced at it, immediately following up with two more messages:

To talk about the project.

How's your Sunday looking?

Suguru stared impatiently at the screen for a whole minute before deciding he was being a creep and turning it off. He had barely looked up at Satoru and opened his lips to say something when there was a loud ping. The black-haired man scrambled to turn it back on, the notification of a new text received making his head spin and heart accelerate in his chest, it felt like the organ was being squeezed by his ribcage.

I can't on Sundays.

Oh.

Wednesday night had you lying on your bed as you read over Professor Yaga's email with an in-depth briefing on the project appointed to you and Suguru on your phone when a notification from one 'arrogant prick n2' popped up on the top of the screen.

At the shock of receiving a text exactly when your mind had been on said arrogant prick, you lost the hold you had on the device and let out a pained groan when it hit your chest. The throb on your chest from the blow had you spitting colorful curses aimed at Suguru until you managed to sit up and open the message. No, messages.

You opened up the keyboard, letting your fingers hover over the letters until you figured out an appropriate reply. You settled on a plain and straightforward sentence.

I'm sure you have a VERY important engagement on a Sunday.

You audibly gasped as you read his immediate response.

what is that supposed to mean?

I thought you were literate... or do you simply lack reading comprehension?

Just when you thought he couldn't possibly make you angrier, Suguru goes and throws yet another impossibly irritating dig to your intellect. You decided to cut off the conversation before it escalated for once, if at least to keep up your peace of mind:

good to know you're just as insufferable through text.

don't bother me unless you have something significant to say.

wait!

You were just about to put your cell down and move on to something productive when the text hit and curiosity kept your attention locked on the three little dots moving as he wrote a follow-up. Chances were it would be another taunt.

I'm actually busy this Saturday with a policy advocacy rally, would you like to come?

it could be useful to our project.

You hated when Suguru poked fun at you but, for some reason, you despised when he raised reasonable ideas. It probably had something to do with the fact that the mere idea of being compliant with him made you sick. How someone could elicit such strong feelings from you was a question you would rather leave unanswered for now.

fine.

text me the details.

no need. I'll pick you up at 7 am. Send me your address.

"This better be worth it if this lunatic is making me wake at ass dawn on a Saturday," you mumble to yourself, glaring at the text as if he would be able to feel your discontentment before giving up and sending him the address.

And to think you had found him charming upon first meeting… Only for Suguru to toss your first impression under the bus at the earliest opportunity. You were both still freshmen back then and you were feeling so proud to be able to answer the professor's inquiry with ease when his sweet voice chimed in from the back row of the auditorium, his white-haired counterpart snickering beside him,

"Actually," and it all went downhill.

Teeth grinding together, skin warm and heart thrumming loudly in your ears, the mere recollection was enough to bring your anger up tenfold. It's always been like this: Suguru has a way of getting under your skin with minimum effort that no one else has.

It was a small miracle that it hadn't been snowing that Saturday morning yet the frigid air was anything but forgiving. You mentally cursed Suguru with every single swearword you could think of as you stood by the entrance of your building at 7 am sharp bundled up in a large wool coat and scarf that did nothing to stop the cutting wind from hitting your face or the frostbite to your toes inside the not-so-warm shoes you wore.

You were strongly considering turning on your heel and getting back inside to your awaiting bed when you spotted the approaching car. Suguru parked right in front of the building's steps without turning off the engine and you watched as he leaned across the center console to open the passenger door for you.

"Get in." He ordered before you had time to utter your measly 'good morning'.

You huffed in annoyance, the puff of air leaving your parted lips serving as a reminder of the unrelenting cold and pushing you into action. You could had been petty and ignored his command since you had no obligation to Suguru and his rally, but you also just wanted to get this all done with as soon as possible.

You got in, closed the door behind you and, at Suguru's sharp gaze, put on the seatbelt. You hadn't even settled properly when he reached over you to adjust the grid vent of the air conditioning so the warm air would be aimed at you, one thick strand of hair escaping from his neat bun and falling in front of his eyes. The sudden proximity sent your heart into overdrive and your head spinning as you inhaled his intoxicating woody scent. You sunk back against the cushion of the recliner to avoid the slight brush of his arm to your chest but still, you felt the warmth irradiating from beneath the fabric of his white shirt.

You kept your back flushed to the seat even after Suguru pulled away and started the drive, hands clutching tight onto the seatbelt strip until you eventually regained your composure, the pleasant temperature inside the vehicle aiding in soothing you.

"Wish-"

"I'm s-"

'Wishing someone a good morning never killed anyone' is what you wanted to say yet you lost your nerve when he started at the same time as you. There was a terse silence as the both of you waited for the other to continue but none did. Finally, Suguru seemed to have enough as he picked up a neat stack of papers he had kept on the dashboard and offered it to you.

"Here," was all he said to present it.

"What's this?" You asked as you hesitantly accepted the papers, eyes curiously peeking at the writing at the top of the first page. You gasped once you managed to get a read on it, "I don’t need a…" you flicked through the pages, finding them to be numbered, and turned your incredulous gaze back to an unbothered Suguru, "20-page lit review, Geto. This project is about getting into the field and talking to people.”

"Tch. So we make uninformed decisions? I'm not surprised though. Being reckless does seem to match your usual approach."

"I am under no obligation to follow you into the stupid rally. I don't care about the dumb politics side of it when there's an obvious course of action to be taken. I'm here because I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt," you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched at your words, your gaze settled firmly on his side profile as you spoke. "I should've guessed you would be just as much of a dickhead as usual though."

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel to the point his knuckles turned white but Suguru remained otherwise silent. You took that as some form of reluctant acceptance on his part or at least an attempt to maintain some semblance of peace considering the two of you were stuck inside a car for an undetermined amount of time.

The rest of the trip was spent in agonizing stillness neither of you dared to break.

After nearly one hour, Suguru drove into the garage of a business center building, easily parking his nondescript black car in a tight, vacant spot. Once the engine was off, there was a moment where you just sat there, his hands still on the wheel and eyes steered forward. Suguru sighed before finally turning to you, his gaze softening minutely.

"Listen, for what's worth, I'm glad you've decided to come."

You didn't know what to make of his words. You almost let yourself believe he was being heartfelt until you remembered you weren't used to hearing anything other than patronizing comments or thinly veiled insults coming from him. You narrowed your gaze and gave him a faux saccharine smile.

"Of course. I know you want to get this project over and done with as much as me, Geto."

"…Right," he nodded slowly. "Anyway, we're here," Suguru opened his own door and stepped out of the car, briefly slanting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's move before you make me late," he smirked at your perplexed face and pushed the door close before you could formulate an answer.

"It's not like I'm holding you hostage," you scrambled out of the car and after him, voice a few octaves higher than usual as you closed the passenger door with more force than necessary. "You could've left the car at any point!"

Suguru chuckled lightly as he opened the back door to pick up a black topcoat you hadn't seen thrown over the back seats, "yes, but where would the fun be in that?"

"You just love annoying me, don't you?" You crossed your arms, eyes following his movements as he put on the coat, covering his sinfully thin waist and broad shoulders previously displayed in his perfectly fitted white shirt and high-waisted trousers. How could someone so irritating always look so dapper?!

"And if I do?"

"I-" you gaped, your brain abruptly malfunctioning as you struggled to come up with a comeback.

"Suguru!"

You were saved from the spotlight by a pretty woman waving from the door that led to the inside of the building. Suguru smiled and waved back, motioning for you to follow him.

"Took you long enough," she sidestepped so you could join her inside the lobby.

Suguru hummed, placing a placating hand on her shoulder, a kind smile etched on his face.

"You know it's not like me to not follow through when I commit to something, Manami."

"Well, tell that to Miguel."

The three of you stopped in front of an elevator and you waited awkwardly until Suguru seemed to remember you were also there.

"Oh, yeah. Manami, this is a… colleague from Jujutsu Tech. Don't mind her, she's just here to watch."

You scoffed but decided it best to ignore his lack of manners upon introducing you opting instead to offer your hand to the pretty woman "Nice to meet you, Manami."

She glanced from Suguru to you and took your hand in a firm handshake, her smile seeming to grow predatory, "Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

During the ride on the elevator to the floor of the conference room where the meeting was being held, you tuned off their conversation, self-deprecating thoughts making you feel small as you compared your own casual clothing to Manami's tight-fitted, long black dress, dark high heels, and fur-collared white jacket. She looked effortlessly chic with her long dusty pink hair styled in subtle waves while you looked like a plain college student... which you were, and normally, you would see nothing wrong with that, except that something in that specific situation was getting to you. You sighed dejectedly.

You were pulled from your head when the elevator signaled you had arrived at your destination, and Suguru guided you out with a hand to your middle back. The warmth easily trespassed the layers of clothing and brought a flush to your cheeks.

"I have to get to the stage, but Manami will guide you to a seat, alright?" He leaned closer to whisper, warm breath fanning against your ear.

You only nodded, afraid your voice would've failed you.

"Great. Don't have too much fun."

At that, you couldn't help but laugh, covering it up with a cough, but Suguru noticed if his pleased expression was anything to take by, "Don't give yourself too much credit, Geto."

"Don't blame me for wanting to impress you."

"Impress me?"

He shrugged, still smiling as he walked backward and away from you, playful gaze glued to you until you couldn't take it anymore and faced a smug-looking Manami instead.

Suddenly, you wished you had gone back to your bed when you had had the chance.

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taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @madamechrissy @myahfig4 @cajunfootrub @feralfortojidotcom @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @starmapz @dunesinruins

#mavi writes #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk x reader smut #suguru geto smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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Someone New 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: I am queuing this so who knows if Im still suffering.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The morning is going splendid. You spilled your coffee and the tea you packed in a thermos, you left on your counter. The realisation doesn’t hit you until you pull up to the site. You huff and hang your head, gripping the steering wheel as you brace yourself for your caffeine withdrawal.

At least it’s dry. Mostly. As Thor forecast, the rain didn’t come until the night. The steady patter kept you awake, along with that lingering displacement that never quite leaves you. Fatigue is another constant. Your new normal; sleepless nights and sleepy days.

You get out and set to work. It’s all you can do. It’s all you’ve been doing. Just keep going. It doesn’t matter how, just get it done, get through the day.

You yawn at your task, brushing digging, oh so gently wiggling the little form. It’s almost out. Almost free. In your eagerness for some progress, you get careless. Your hand slips and the spearhead grazes our palm. Is isn’t until the stinging splits your skin that you realise it’s a slash.

Damn it, you didn’t put your damned gloves on.

Great, with the luck you’re having, you’ve just contracted some ancient virus. You hiss and grip your wrist. Your adrenaline triggers your heart. You take a few breaths to stay calm as you watch the blood bead to the surface.

You curse and stagger to your feet. You grab the rag from your back pocket and clutch it in your injured hand. You grip it tight as you cross the site, careful not to tread to heavily, and you angle the fencing to sidle between two panels.

You clumsily pull open the car door and reach under the seat. You always keep an emergency with you. It’s a rule of thumb for your sort of work. You never know what might happen. Bug spray, sunscreen, bandages, swabs, a hole trove of supplies.

You shake as the pain intensifies, thrumming through your palm. You come out and rest the plastic tote on the hood and sift through with your single hand. This is going to be awkward as hell. While you enjoy your solitary, it can sometimes be unsettling. What if something worse happened?

“Ruff, ruff, rrrrruffffff,” the growlish yet high-pitched barking comes from up the mountain road.

You pause as he peek under the rag and peer up as gravel mulches. Another visit? Your work is so boring, you wouldn’t expect him again. Thor appears as Thunder hops before him, spastic as she sniffs the ground in circles. He smiles and waves but you can only manage a grimace before you look back to your wound.

“Morning,” he booms as he scoops up the small dog and nears the other side of the car, “it’ll be a sunny one.”

“You sure?” You look up at the greyish blue skies, than at him. Hm, the hue of above is rather similar to his eyes.

“I know so,” he assures you and tilts his head curiously, “why are you so grim?”

You show him your hand as you lift the cloth from it. He lets out a sympathetic hum and sets Thunder on the ground. She runs over to inspect the fence as he rounds the hood towards you. As he gets closer, his size is even more obvious. He’s well-built, you can see it even at a distance, but up close and personal, he’s almost inhuman in stature.

“Yikes,” he offers his hand, “may I?”

“Really, it’s not—I can handle it.”

“I’m certain you can. Only the bravest woman would come to these grey lands and sit alone in the dirt,” he jokes. “Please, it’ll be easier with two hands.”

You relent, a tinge of embarrassment hot in your cheeks, and peel the rag away. You hold your hand out to him and he brings one of his large ones to cradle it. Wow. He’s massive. The difference in your hands is startling.

“Nasty cut,” he muses as he reaches over for the swabs you’ve piled out on the metal, “but it shouldn’t need more than a snug wrap.”

“Thanks,” you look away, eyeing the dirt as his proximity makes you squirm.

You can’t remember the last time a man touched you, especially a handsome one. Well, aside from Sam and Bucky but those were just hugs and usually ended in them arguing anyway. You’ve never been the most popular girl in the world and those men you managed to reel in didn’t stay on the hook very long. You never really tried to keep them. You were always too distracted.

You wince as he wipes the cut with the alcoholic cloth. He softens his touch but holds your hand firm from beneath. He offers a rumbling apology as he focuses on tending to you. His intent is new to you. The way he looks at your palm holds more than any look you’ve ever gotten from a man. Or anyone.

He crumples up the used wipe and takes another. He’s thorough. You feel a shiver roll through you despite the warmth in the air. He trades the wipe for the roll of gauze and wraps the strip around your hand, hooking over your thumb and looping your wrist. He uses the little metal clip to pin it then turns your hand over, brushing his own over it as he grins.

“Good as new,” he announces, “though I recommend you not use it too much. And perhaps a pair of gloves.”

“Yeah, I forgot. Long day.”

“It’s nine in the morning?” He chuckles.

“Yep,” you agree dryly.

“Hopefully it gets better,” he says.

“Yeah, maybe,” you agree dully and toss the things back in the tote.

He picks it up before you can and keeps it from your reach, “like I said, you should take it easy.”

“Well, there’s work to be done,” you say as he moves to the open door and slides the tote inside. “What are you doing back here?”

“Ah, I let the queen lead the way,” he stands straight and closes the car door. He looks past you and your head perks up. Thunder is very quiet. “As ever, she does not tread with caution.”

You turn to find the chihuahua inside the fence. You jump in place and sprint over, clattering between the panels as you call after her. “No, no, sweetie, be careful!”

You chase her around where you were digging as you sense Thor watching from without. Great! You hope she didn’t pee anywhere.

A sharp whistle pierces the air and Thunder stops. She sits in place, still wiggling, but doesn’t move. You peek back at Thor and he nods. You near her and pick her up.

“Sorry about her, she is a free spirit,” he tuts as you cross back to him. “I will be certain she does not stray again. My apologies.”

You’re taken aback by his sincerity. You try to remember the last time someone apologised to you and sounded like they meant it. Hell, when’s the last time you even got an apology. You dip out between the grating and hold out the dog.

“I would hate to get in your way any more than we already have,” he hugs her with one arm and spreads his other hand over his chest, “we will be on our way. I do hope the sunshine brings some brightness to your day.”

“Um, thanks,” you shift on your feet and hide your twiddling fingers. “You too.”

“I’ve already found my sunlight,” he grins even wider and blinks, “now, Thunder, let’s go make a storm somewhere else.” He twists on his heel and lumbers off, “perhaps mother might put up with you for a time.”

You stand just outside the fence and watch him go. A lock of his golden hair hangs loosely form his bun, dangling down his back, wagging almost like the dog’s little tail. He bounds over the lumpy ground and disappears behind the rock face. You look down and smile.

Not everything is so bad and you can see the amber ribbon limning the clouds. The sun will be there soon. Just like he promised.

💟

Thor comes back again.

It’s a week since you cut your hand. Like before, you can’t predict him. You don’t hear him approach as he’s alone. You only notice him as he clangs something on the fence and lets out an ‘oops’. You pop your head up and look over at him through squinting eyes. Your forehead hurts from the expression.

You smooth out your face and stand, facing him. He wiggles a metal canister in his hand. The wind sweeps the strands around his square jaw as the sky pulses in shades of gray behind him.

“Thought you might like some hot tea,” he holds up the thermos.

“Oh, uh... you didn’t have to...” you look at the sky and its quivering blanket. You’ve been pondering packing up for the last hour. “Thanks.”

“Not to worry, I was restless.”

“And you always go walking through the mountains when you’re bored?” You wonder as you step around the markers in the dirt.

“I live here, there isn’t very much else to do and it isn’t a good day for swimming.”

“Swimming?” You nod and click your tongue. “Sounds like the life to me.”

“Mm, it can be rather languid when there isn’t work to do,” he turns the thermos in his hands as he talks, “Have you tried cloudberry?”

“Cloudberry? Never heard of it.”

He pokes the thermos between the panels and you take it. He pushes the barrier back into place between you, hooking his fingers into the links. You feel the warmth through the copper-coloured metal.

“You didn’t have to come all this way for tea,” you laugh.

“I wanted to ask after your hand. See how it’s healing,” he says.

“Oh, uh,” you open and close your gloved hand, “just a scab now. I’m all good.”

He smiles and keeps himself from leaning to heavily as the fence dips towards you. He coughs and realigns his feet, brushing back the looses strands around his face with a flick. He pushes his shoulders back and drops his hand.

“So uh, you should try the tea. I put together the herbs myself, steeped it...” he bounces on his heels, “I suppose it’s not that impressive but it is good. Antioxidants, anti-inflammatory.”

“Wow, sounds like one of those superfoods,” you scoffs as you pull of your glove and tuck it into your work belt. You untwist the cap and steam wisps out. You smell the tea and blow over it. You look up and find him watching you. “You’re starting to make me nervous, what’s in it?”

“Just tea,” he assures. “I can’t lie to you, though. It wasn’t my idea. My mother suggested it. She’s very interested to see what you’re digging up but I’m afraid she can’t do much at the moment.”

“Oh, your mother? Is she sick?”

“She is in perfect health aside from her dislocated knee. She went rock climbing and well, accidents happen, eh?”

“Yeah, sure do,” you show him your cut. “But they get better.”

A lull rises as you take a dainty sip. The tartness tweaks your cheeks and you scrunch up your nose.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s... different but not bad,” you say. “So, your parents live up here too?”

“Mm, yes. I’m afraid I’m occupying their attic at the moment. I sold my home in Oslo, it was much too... cold.”

You can’t help but snort, “it’s Norway.”

“Ah, so it is. I should be used to it,” he agrees. “And how are you faring here? Have you adjusted to these dour lands?”

“Eh, I’m trying,” you put the lid back on and turn it until tight. “Thanks for the tea.”

“My pleasure,” he assures you. “Seems lonely work.”

“I don’t mind it,” you shrug and cross your arms, tucking the thermos beneath one arm.

“Interesting though. Have you found very much?”

“Ugh, a spearhead and some pieces of the shaft. A vase, cracked though. Some beads.”

“Beads,” he echoes thoughtfully, “is this all confidential?”

“Not really, you wanna see?”

“Very much so,” he says.

“Right, uh, let me just...”

You go back to where you were sat and plant the thermos in the dirt. You scurry around, overly aware of his observation, and go to the pin of your catalogued items. You find the bone beads and brings the little dish of them over to the fence. You hold them up as he peers between the links.

“They have runes,” he intones.

“Yeah, I’ve got the meaning of all of them except, er...” you pull out the single bead made of jade, “this one.”

He hums and considers it closely, leaning in.

“Not a rune. That’s a family symbol.”

“Oh?”

“My family’s.”

“Wow, uh,” you lower your chin, “that’s... I... kinda feel like a thief.”

“Can’t have cared very much about it if it’s down there,” he remarks, “you know, my father has mapped out much of our genealogy. As much as he can. He might be able to assist with your research, if he can find the time. Bit of a hermit these days.”

“Oh, uh maybe, I’d hate to bother,” you smile sheepishly, “erm...” you look around, “where’s Thunder? Awful quiet without her.”

“She’s keeping mother company. I’ve told her not to be too much of an imp, can’t have her making it worse,” he shakes his head. “The two of them are both stubborn as the other.”

You can’t help the twitch in your eye. All this talk of your family has you suddenly homesick. You fight not to crack and swallow tightly.

“Anyway, thanks again for the tea.”

“Your parents must miss you,” he says abruptly.

“Erm, yeah, my mom calls now and then but she’s better as an empty nester. Dad’s got his head under a hood most days so...”

“Friends? Boyfriend?” He wonders.

You arch a brow. He’s not very subtle and yet his inquiry can’t be anything but innocent, right? You’re still strangers. He can’t be into you. Not someone who looks like him. How long did you pray for Steve to even see you like that? This man is definitely not going to.

“Friends. Sam likes to pester me when I should be sleeping and Bucky... they’re funny.” You sniff and gaze past him. You won’t mention that giant elephant in your head. The one you think about at night.

“Lots to miss back home, it sounds like,” he breaks the silence before it can settle.

“Yeah, but not every day you get to travel.”

“And to a beautiful land,” Thor declares, “I hope one day you’ll come out of the dirt and see more of it. You’ll be surprised what lays further up the mountain.”

You smile and look down, “yeah, maybe one day.”

“Until then,” he backs up on his heel, “I won’t distract you any further. Enjoy your tea.” He turns and strides away, pausing halfway as you linger by the fence, “the rain will be here around five so I would leave early, otherwise you’ll be driving through it.”

“Right,” your chest deflates just a little. You don’t know what you wanted him to say but you’re disappointed, “thanks.”

#thor #steve rogers #thor x reader #steve rogers x reader #series #someone new #angst fic #grayish fic #mcu #marvel #au #fic #captain america #avengers

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solarsturniolo · 4 months ago

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Skater!Chris playlist is now available on spotify.

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Going through the motions…a strong sense of longing, unreciprocated love and adoration, confusion, wishing you could go back and change the way something happened, serendipity, melancholy, desire

If you’d like to listen, I will link it below :)

Enjoy :) 🛹🤍🍑

More skater!chris texts have been in the works and they are queued up and ready to go! I also have a few other surprises that i need to finish setting up before i start posting regularly again. Thank you all for your continued support, i love you all so much. And thank you for almost getting me to 5k followers?? Like that’s an INSANE number to me… Five THOUSAND of you… I’m at a loss for words. It is genuinely mind blowing that so many of you on here support my writing, that so many of you guys know my name and see me as one of the bigger tumblr accounts (i definitely am NOT lmao) and that you all continue to spread your love and kindness on my page.

I am so blessed to have met so many wonderful people through this platform. I’m blessed that i’ve been in situations with other people and have been able to come out of it stronger. Each and every person i’ve interacted with has built me to who I am today and for that I will be forever grateful for all of it.

Enough sob story Natalie time, now it’s time for me to lock in and push out some good writing.

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tag list 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

@megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovesturni0l0s @zebonos @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnslutz @favsdti @sturnsmia @jensturnss @sturnioloskies @chrisissobabygirl @h3arts4nat @heartsonlyforchris

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holygroundsound · 2 years ago

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A BRIEF EXPLANATION OF ALL THE BUTTONS ON TUMBLR MOBILE FOR MY TWITTER REFUGES :)

i know a lot of fellow former twitter users are a bit confused by this app, so here’s some hopefully helpful tips!

this is what you should see at the bottom of the screen when making a new post

the first button (Aa) lets you change the size of your font into a bigger heading or subheading, or even make your text a cursive or times new roman type font

it also lets you make these bulleted lists! to use it, just tap multiple times until you get the setting you want

tap this button to add links, then just type the site name in the box and hit return. for example: http://heresalink.com

these are where you can add gifs, pictures, and music! for pictures, just tap the icon and select what you want, then you can press and drag to move it around or drag to the trashcan to delete

gifs are very similar to twitter - type in what you want and scroll through the options

GIF by taylorsnationblog

music is also similar. type the song you want and tap on it. podcasts also work!

this button is for polls! tap and add your silly little answers. the duration can be a day or a week

this button lets you make a “cut” in your posts which is basically a “read more” button. got a long post you don’t want cluttering up everyone’s dashes? click here!

lastly, this button lets you set content warnings! specifically this is for “mature content”, but when you click mature you can specify whether its due to drugs/alcohol, violence, or sexual content

this can be helpful to clue people in to potential triggers but PLEASE ALWAYS TAG YOUR SPECIFIC TRIGGERS ANYWAYS.

Other Helpful Tips

“highlight” your text by pressing and selecting like normal to unlock a bunch of cool formatting options including bold, strikethrough, and colors

hitting the three dots next to the post button lets you access a bunch of post settings like queuing posts, scheduling posts, saving drafts, making posts private (PLEASE NOTE: you cannot unprivate posts after, but you can share the link), and choosing who can reblog & who can pay to promote your content

CONGRATS you’re now ready to make better posts like a tumblr pro

#OK REPOSTED WITH NO CONTENT WARNING #twitter swifties #twitter dead #twitter down #swifties #taylor swift #cruel summer #twitter

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cute-n-curious · 2 months ago

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Monster Dating App [3]: Shark Man

[Author's note: *puts on nerdy glasses* did you know that sharks have 2 dicks called "claspers"? Now you do! This is a follow-on from the "first date" in part 1 and part 2. If you don't want to read them, that's ok! You just need to know you've downloaded an amazing app that sends you monsters to fuck and after a super hot first date, you're moving onto your second...]

The "surprise me" option in the app had delivered for you in a big way, but now that you have a better sense of what you like, maybe you could increase your chances of encountering your first date (or something like him) again if you got a little more specific. You find an "advance options" page in the app settings menu and after scrolling through the seemingly endless drop-down list of bizarre and explicit options, you settled on the ones that got closest to what had done it for you last time.

✓ Limbs - Elongated ✓ Phallus - Multiple

Whoever the mysterious and intrusive spies behind the app were, they work fast. Or perhaps there are just a lot more horny monsters out there than any of us might guess, queuing up around the block for willing humans to request them. That very afternoon, the ping came in for a suitable date being lined up. He would come to your apartment tomorrow night at 8pm. Your habitual politeness had you thinking about what food to serve and what options to have ready on your TV, but the cynic in you was already starting to feel transactional, and knew that if you liked the look of what walked through your door, you'd want to get to the good stuff a lot quicker than you did the first time…

Your heart jump to your throat when the buzz comes over the intercom, and you tingle with anticipation while waiting for the knock on your apartment door. You had dressed yourself with a little more… purpose, this time. Despite the broadly cool weather outside, you've elected to wear a cute, summery short-cut dress, that affords easy access to the provocative skimpy underwear beneath. You're developing a bit of a one-track mind for these non-human dates, but as your friends many and varied experiences attest, the beastly boys aren't likely to complain about not being wined and dined enough before being invited into an eager human pussy.

You take a deep breath and open the door, surprised at once by the height of your visitor. Looming in the doorway with a stature befitting an amateur basketball league star, stands a blank-faced, light-brown skinned man. You stifle a reflexive laugh at his outfit, a full-length overcoat with an ill-fitting wide-brimmed hat. The only way he could scream "obvious disguise" more loudly would be with a pair of black sunglasses and a Groucho Marx mustache. You half expect him to reveal himself as a Ninja Turtle under there, but he seems far too lean to be hiding a shell.

"Nice to meet you," he rasps, with a voice clearly ill-accustomed to convincing human speech. He sounds half like he's drowning, or is just recovering from an asthma attack.

"Please, come in" you invite him, gesturing towards your couch and closing and locking the door behind him. Feeling emboldened, like a seasoned pro, after the prodigious one monster date you have under your belt, you follow up with, "feel free to take anything off if it makes you more comfortable. You look a bit stifled under all of that."

His blank face doesn't smile, but you see a release of tension in his broad shoulders as he reaches up to remove his hat. To your surprise, the face, ears and neck move with the hat as he peels the mask down and forward, revealing his true face beneath. Smooth dark-grey skin with flecks of shining blue, fin-like ridges over the top of his scalp, large doll-like eyes that reflect the surrounding room like black mirrors, and teeth. Row after row of triangular teeth.

With a broad gesture, he pulls the trench coat open and aside, the appearance of pant-legs and shoes pulling loose like the tear-away pants worn by strippers. To say he has a swimmer's body wouldn't do it justice, because he was clearly primarily aquatic, and now completely unclothed. Standing in your living room is the sleek, glistening nude body of what you could only describe as a shark-man. Your thoughts flood with the unsettlingly erotic scenes of the Oscar-winning film The Shape of Water, but your guest is far smoother than the frilly, scaly lover from that movie. And far less PG-13.

Your eyes are immediately drown down towards his crotch, where for a moment, you think your musing of the Groucho Marx mustache has come true. Handing down from the front of his pelvis are two pinkish-tinged prongs, angling out like an upside-down "V", perfectly symmetrical and at least 7 inches long each. You bite your lips with mixed feelings, drinking in the sight of him. He met the requirements, his arms and legs were abnormally long and powerful-looking, by human standards, and if those long things were his version of dicks, well, there was certainly more than one. But you can't help but compare him in your mind with your first date, the shifting unsettling presence whose limbs spindled out and filled the whole room, whose bristling cocks looked like a miniature army taking formation to conquer your pussy… Compared to him, this date just looked like, well, a guy. A guy who is also a shark, you suppose, powerful and exotic, but still very clearly made of solid flesh with discrete possibilities. And of course, your first date didn't smell powerfully of salty fish…

There is an endearing vulnerability to this massive, clearly dangerous male, standing unsure and completely exposed in front of you, while you remain fully clothed and casual. Habituating a bit to the smell, and shifting your expectations slightly, his predatory angles inspire a predatory approach in you, as you step forward swaying your hips, testing the waters on a very direct solicitation.

"I didn't realise you'd be completely naked under your disguise. Not that I'm complaining, you're clearly quite the specimen, all exposed like that… but I don't want you to feel like you're at a disadvantage, would you like me to take off my outer layers to match you?"

His true face is more expressive than the mask, but still hard to read. It seems to take him a moment to compute your offer, before his toothy mouth widens in a knowing smile and he nods his head eagerly. Deciding to be a little playful, you reach behind your back and unclip your strapless bra, causing it to fall unceremoniously out of the open bottom of your dress to the floor. You then hike your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, and slide them to the ground in a single smooth motion. Then, stepping a bit closer to him for the grand reveal, you then peel down the shoulder straps of your dress and shimmy your body, letting it fall to the ground in a circle at your feet.

His black, glossy eyes drink in the shape of your breasts and hips. He has no obvious pupils, but you can tell he's paying close attention to the inner lines of your thighs and fuzzy little mound of your crotch. His eyes are so reflective, you see your own nude form distorted like a funhouse mirror as he glances around, stepping closer, the fish-eye bulging making your tits look huge and round when he peers back and forth between them.

You feel an electric jolt of excitement in your clit as the two phallic prongs on the front of his pelvic immediately begin to react in that characteristically male way. Blood surges into them, causing them to plump and flush, and much to your relief, they twitch and begin to arc upwards, starting to resemble to large oddly coloured vibrators pointing straight out at you. Fuck they're big, each one of them at least an inch longer than the biggest cock you have ever taken inside you, though they tapered to thin points at the ends, and were overall not so thick as to be frightening.

The heat has risen up inside you now. Your doubts over the questionable smell evaporating as you imagine fucking those magnificent dicks. Thinking back to your first monster date, shit, maybe they're thin enough that you could stretch yourself to the absolute limit taking both of them in your pussy at once…

Emboldened, you step forward. You reach out to wrap each of your hands around the two impressive penises jutting towards you, while he extends out his long slick arms to grasp your shoulder and cup your ass cheeks. This feels so fucking hot, right up to the jolting moment when you make contact…

Suddenly, its not so hot. In fact, it's cold. Jarring against your lusty expectations, both of his bulging dicks are surprisingly cool to the touch, like the top of a glass countertop in a temperate room. You jolt as his big hand wraps around the flesh of your ass, because its even colder, like stepping into a shower before giving the hot water enough time to clear the pipes.

You tremble in his arms, cringing, and he pulls you closer to him, his long cool dick tips grazing up your abdomen and poking sharply at the undersides of your breasts. The gill slits on his neck flare as his lust is clearly mounting, grinding himself against you and absorbing some of your heat. This doesn't feel great, its borderline uncomfortable, but as his long fingers slide along your ass crack and graze your wet labia with their cool tips, you bite your lip and find your resolve. You've put up with worse from men before, in exchange for frankly less impressing bodies and manhoods. He can't help being a walking fish, and it would be downright rude to not at least let him try to warm up those lengthy motherfuckers inside your hot pussy. Then again, maybe hot pussy feels weird to him? Only one way to find out…

He seems to pick up on your decision, and with a grunt that sounds like a baritone echo of the sea, he hoists you up in his arms. It's surprisingly easy for him, his grip firm and his arms as strong as steel cables. He's not a creature of romance, it seems, but rather one of utility and urgency. You wrap your legs around his waist and guide his right cock to your pussy, the tip of it nudging against your clit. You feel a moment's hesitation as the coldness of it meets your heat, but then he thrusts inside you, filling you up with his alien presence. You gasp, not from the cold anymore, but from the sheer size of it.

The first few strokes are slow and careful, as if he's afraid of breaking you, but you're already slick from thinking about it all day. He quickly picks up the pace, his long cock sliding in and out of you, hitting places you didn't know existed. You moan, the sound coming out of you like a siren's call to the deep sea. He responds in kind, his strokes becoming more confident as he watches your face contort with pleasure.

You're getting close to cumming, the sheer gratifying force of him dropping you onto his big cock slightly offset by the twinges of discomfort you feel in the back-wall of your pussy at full penetration. His cock is pointier than you would prefer, but those little flashes of pain are not so bad as to undermine your building orgasm.

But just as you're about to reach the edge, he surprises you by lifting you high off his dick, high enough that your crotch hovers in front of his face, and you worry for a moment that he is going to put that woodchipper of a mouth straight onto your sensitive womanhood. But as he lowers you back down again, you feel a cool penis tip probe against your labia, and realise that he is switching dicks to his left member. Perhaps he was getting too close to cumming himself, perhaps his leftie was just aching with neglect, but he begins the process with renewed vigour, and it takes some time for your insides to re-warm the new cock to the level of comfort you had reached with the first. You can't help but think, the dick-switches on your first date were a lot hotter than this…

For minutes more, he bounces you effortlessly up and down in his powerful arms, using your body like a fleshlight to stimulate his lengthy cock. It's strangely arousing, being used like this, to be taken aggressively, but you yearn to reach down far enough to his second cock and align it vertically to graze over your clit while he fucks you. That's how your first date did it. God he was good.

You feel him starting to slow his thrusts and lift you a bit higher, clearly preparing to buy himself more time by switching penises again. This must be his signature move with humans. But once again, you were nearing a fairly compromised but intense orgasm, and you would be damned if you're going to be denied and reset two times in a row!

As he angles to shift back to his right penis, you reach down and grab the second cock, guiding it into your pussy alongside the first. He seems surprised, almost alarmed in his fish-like face, but doesn't resist, letting you take charge. You're feeling desperately horny, but perhaps your pussy has bitten off more than it can chew this time.

You've never felt anything so… much, before. It stretches you wide, and you feel like you're being split in two, but it's also incredible, like nothing you've ever experienced. The mass of the two oversized dicks, sandwiched against each other, produce a more uniform thickness that relieves the prodding feeling at the back of your pussy. This was it, all bets were off, you are stretched out around everything this powerful beast has to offer, and you're not going to stop riding until you burst. You moan loudly, beg him to go harder, faster, and he does, his hips bucking against yours, his hunching grey thighs making loud wet smacks as they collide with your ass, plunging up and down again and again, as he fucks you to the limit with both of his immense cocks.

You can feel your orgasm building again, crackling and intense this time, the pressure inside you reaching unbearable levels. You dig your nails into his back, scratching at the tough skin, and he responds by squeezing your ass even harder, pushing deeper into you. The sheer pressure hammering into your back walls sends you over the edge, and you cum with a scream that echoes through your apartment. You can feel his cocks pulsing inside you, and he joins you in your release, shuddering and stumbling slightly as he's filling you up with his cum.

As you come down from your high, you realize that he's done. His impressive cocks shrink away, retreating from your body and resuming their original positions, flopping down against his thighs like a drooping pelvic mustache. He carefully sets you down, and you realize he's been watching you the entire time, his eyes unblinking and curious. You can't help but feel a little disappointed. It was intense, sure, but it wasn't… perfect. Not like that first time. God, this poor shark-man just finished fucking you more aggressively with a bigger (collective) dick than you'd ever experienced, yet here you are looking at him like he doesn't quite measure up. Not to the walking mass of shifting pleasures the app had sent you the first time.

Remembering how the app had registered that fateful first encounter, your mind starts racing in disastrous directions as you feel his copious cum running down the insides of your shaky thighs.

"Shit, fuck, um, my profile says 'no breeding', uh… Are you going to get in trouble for cumming inside me?" You ask him, while he bends down casually to scoop up his comical human disguise.

He shakes his head, the human-like gesture oddly endearing on his shark-like face. "I can't make babies with humans," he says, his voice still that same strained rasp. "This is fun, only." He offers that goofy, knife-filled smile.

He starts to get dressed, having to align his floppy cocks so that one is distributed into each pant leg. You can't help but grin to yourself at the awkwardness of it as you sit naked on your cough, still coming down from your hard-earned orgasm.

You watch him, honestly feeling a little sad that it's already over. It was a decent fuck, hell, in the same ballpark as the best human lovers you'd ever had. But it wasn't earth-shattering like the first time. You can't help but compare your two monstrous app hookups, and this statuesque shark-man just comes up short, big dicks and all. Your first date had been a force of nature, a whirlwind of pleasure and sensation. This guy, well, however exotic his frame and powerful his thrusts… he's just a guy. A guy with a couple of really big, really cold dicks, but a guy nonetheless.

As he leaves, you find yourself reclining back on your couch, naked and moist, your thoughts drifting back to that first date for the hundredth time. You remember those hands all over you, more than you could count by feel. You remember those hot cocks, hammering through you and pumping you full of cum again and again like a phallic machine gun. You remember his handsome face and the taste of his lips, so kissable in the absence of rows of triangular teeth… You find your hands sliding down your flanks and over your thighs, and before you know it you're fingering your well-fucked pussy. Your head swims with memories of that first date, again, and you cum even harder than you did impaled on the aquatic member that just stretched you to your limit as you finger yourself to orgasm. Fuck, what is wrong with you, you are obsessed with someone you can't even find anymore. You want the monster who made you feel alive, who made you feel like you were drowning in an ocean of pleasure. You want the one who didn't just take you to the edge, but threw you over it and watched you fall into the abyss. This can't be healthy…

Your lust fading into lazy pensiveness, you lift your juiced up fingers to your lips and taste them, and immediately seize up. Right, you're full of shark cum, and God does it taste like it… Pungent, fishy, overwhelmingly salty… With renewed energy, you leap to your feet and jog to your bathroom, twisting the knobs of the shower so hard you're worried you'll break them. You scrub yourself clean, trying to erase the lingering odour of your deep-sea deep-dicking. The memory, you are sure you will cherish, but if your apartment still smells like this tomorrow, you're going to have to black-list aquatic monsters on the app doing forward.

How did your friend throw herself so fully into these bizarre varieties of paramours? Sure, it was big and weird and new, but it wasn't what you wanted. It wasn't what you needed. You fill your mouth with mouthwash and spit into the shower drain, trying to get rid of the taste, and pick up your toothbrush to apply a ferocious scrubbing that would make your dentist proud.

"That's why Shape of Water won the Oscar" you muse aloud to yourself. "You can't smell through a movie screen."

[Next part released.]

#shark man #fish man #merman #merman x reader #monster fucker #teratophillia #double dicking #monster smut #monster x human #0rgasm #smut #x reader #monster dating app #cr3ampie

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