#and move the mattress. and move the bedside table

[goonforgeto]

・☄︎ CRUSH

chapter 03

SYNOPSIS — The last thing ten-year-old you ever imagined was falling in love at fourteen, getting your heart broken at seventeen, and spending your early twenties hunting down Jujutsu Society’s most wanted — your (ex?) boyfriend. But the last thing your twenty-something-year-old self expected? Falling for his best friend... just before your ex comes crashing back into your life after over a decade of silence.

WC — (5.6k)

CONTENT — post-Suguru defection, guest appearance, grief, unresolved trauma, discussion of loss/abandonment, complicated feelings, emotional tension, references to past relationship, mild language, soft comfort, angst, mentions of smoking/drinking

a/n: big fat chapter! the next one goes back in time so be prepared. if anyone gets confused with all the time jumps just let me know and i'd be hsppy to make a post explaining!

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May, 2013

The mattress is cool against your bare back as you lie unclothed on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it might offer you a reason to move. The last graduation you went to was your own, and even then, the day felt hollow, shadowed by the absence of someone who was supposed to be there.

You never thought you’d go through anything without Suguru after you met him. Back then, your future felt like a shared thing, one long stretch of time you assumed you’d walk together.

But now, you’ve lived more years without him than with him. And somehow, that realization hurts worse than the silence he left behind. 

You’ve hardly thought of that day since it happened. It’s the kind of memory you packed away quietly, like an old photo slipped into a drawer.

But now that Shoko’s finished med school, you can’t stop thinking about it. About your graduation. About the day you stood in front of a crowd with a forced smile and an empty seat in the row you refused to acknowledge.

You thought it would feel like a beginning. Instead, it felt like a breaking point.

Your dress is laid out beside you, half-ironed and untouched. You glance at it, willing yourself to get up.

You glance at the clock on your bedside table — the same one from all those years ago in your childhood home, its glow dim but familiar. It ticks steadily on, indifferent to the ache in your chest.

Your ride will be here in less than half an hour.

The realization settles over you like a second skin, heavy and unwelcome. You haven’t even put on your dress. Haven’t done your hair. Haven’t decided which version of yourself to show today — the composed adult who pretends she’s long since moved on, or the girl who still feels seventeen sometimes, still scanning every crowd for a face she knows won’t be there.

The half-ironed dress stares back at you like it knows.

You exhale, slow and shaky, and finally sit up.

The dress feels as cold as the mattress did, the heat from the iron long gone. You drape it over your skin anyway.

It zips up easily. That part hasn’t changed.

You catch your reflection in the mirror as you pass it, a half-glimpse of someone you’re still not sure how to be. Your hair’s a mess, your face bare. There’s a softness to your eyes you haven’t seen in a while — not vulnerability, exactly. Just… fatigue. Worn in the way grief tends to settle in the skin, not as bruises, but as memory.

You run a comb through your hair, quick, just to feel like you're doing something. The clock ticks on. Less than twenty minutes now.

It’s Shoko’s day. You remind yourself of that. You owe her this.

And even if you can’t promise joy, you can promise presence.

You slip on your shoes, reach for your coat, and step out the door and into the light.

Satoru’s car is already parked out front, unmistakable even from a distance — sleek, obnoxiously clean, windows down like it’s a summer afternoon instead of a foggy May morning. He’s leaning against the driver’s side door, arms crossed, sunglasses perched low on his nose in place of his usual bandages.

You’re not even sure why he drives when he can just teleport everywhere.

As you approach, he straightens a little, eyes skimming over you like he’s taking inventory.

“You look awful,” he says casually.

You huff, brushing past him to the passenger side. “Good morning to you too.”

He grins, rounding the hood of the car. “I mean it affectionately.”

“You say that like there’s any other way to mean it.”

“I’m just saying,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat, “if we’re showing up late, we should at least look hot doing it. And right now, you’re giving… haunted tax auditor.”

“Very funny,” you say, deadpan, adjusting your coat as you settle into the seat.

“Look,” he says, glancing over as he shifts into gear, “I know how hard graduations are for you. I’m just saying, if you look good, you might feel good.”

You glance at him, brows lifting slightly. “That sounds dangerously close to empathy.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, flicking on the turn signal even though there’s no one else on the road. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

The tires hum against the pavement as the car rolls forward, city buildings slowly peeling past. 

“But seriously… I’m proud of you for coming.”

You look out the window, jaw tight, blinking hard at nothing in particular.

“Yeah,” you say. “Me too.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again.

“Look,” he says, “if you want — and only if you want — I have a makeup bag in the back for you.”

You turn your head slowly, squinting at him. “We’re not even the same shade, Satoru. Your makeup wouldn’t work on me.”

He smirks. “No, I mean it’s for you.”

You blink. “What?”

“It’s yours,” he says, tapping a knuckle on the steering wheel. “Like, your stuff. Your brands. Your shades.”

Your brows lift. “How do you even know what I use?”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Remember that time last year? That mission in Osaka — the one with the acid curse that exploded all over your face?”

You wince. “Unfortunately.”

“Yeah. You were pissed because all your makeup got wrecked and the shops were closed when we got back.”

“I was pissed because I had girls’ night.”

“Same thing,” he says with a grin. “Anyway. Next time I came over, I raided your bathroom and took pictures of everything you had. Restocked it all.”

You stare at him.

“You’re welcome,” he adds, like he didn’t just casually admit to one of the most thoughtful things anyone’s ever done for you.

“God, you’re such a weirdo.”

“A hot weirdo.”

You huff a laugh, leaning back into the seat. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll use the damn makeup.”

“Atta girl.”

The rest of the drive is quiet, save for the hum of the tires and the occasional click of Satoru flipping the turn signal out of habit. You apply your makeup quickly in the passenger-side mirror, steady hands betraying the nerves stirring underneath.

When you pull up to the venue, there’s already a crowd. Laughter. Flashing cameras. The sound of names being called over a tiny speaker.

Satoru pulls into a spot that probably isn’t legal and throws the car in park.

You sit there for a second longer than necessary, staring out at the groups of people huddled together in celebration — parents, friends, siblings. All of them accounted for. All of them smiling.

Satoru turns the engine off and leans back in his seat. “Want me to go in first?”

You let out a dry laugh. “What, and let you take all the attention?”

He lifts both hands. “I live to serve.”

You finally open the door. The air outside is warmer than expected, sunlight cutting through the clouds just enough to make the pavement glow.

You both start walking toward the entrance, shoulder to shoulder. His sunglasses are back on, but his voice is softer when he says, “You doing okay?”

You nod.

Inside, the crowd parts instinctively for Satoru (as they always do), and he makes a game of acting like a celebrity on a red carpet. You roll your eyes, but let him have his moment.

You spot Shoko near the front, her white coat pristine, her smile lazy and warm as ever. When she sees you, her expression shifts, just slightly. A flicker of relief. 

You raise your hand in a small wave. She nods back, like she’s been waiting all day for that.

“We should find a seat,” you say, scanning the rows of folding chairs already half-filled with families and faculty.

Satoru nods, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Somewhere in the back, right? So we can sneak out if the speeches are bad.”

You give him a look. “We’re here for Shoko.”

“Exactly,” he grins. “She’d be the first one to leave if she wasn’t graduating.”

You roll your eyes but let him lead the way. You follow him down an aisle toward a quieter row near the back, the chatter of the crowd a dull roar around you. He holds the chair beside him for you like he’s done it a hundred times before, like it’s habit.

You sit.

The ceremony is long and boring, and you spend most of it dozing off on Satoru’s shoulder. He doesn’t complain, just shifts a little so your head can settle more comfortably, one arm draped loosely across the back of your chair like he’s trying to pretend he’s not holding space for you.

You stir occasionally — when the crowd claps too loud, or when the dean makes a painfully awkward joke — but mostly you stay half-asleep, drifting in and out of memories.

Except when Shoko’s name is called. That jolts you fully upright.

“Dr. Shoko Ieiri,” the speaker announces, and your hands are already clapping before your brain catches up. Satoru stands halfway out of his seat, two fingers in his mouth as he whistles — loud, proud, and utterly shameless.

You laugh, clapping harder. You’re pretty sure the two of you are the loudest in the room.

Shoko walks across the stage with that same lazy, unimpressed expression she’s worn since you met her. But you swear there’s the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when she hears you.

You lean toward Satoru, still clapping. “We raised her well.”

He grins. “Proud parents of a doctor-slash-professional chain smoker.”

You nod, cheeks aching from how wide you're smiling. “She turned out alright.” 

When you and Satoru finally make your way through the crowd after the ceremony, you find Shoko off to the side of the reception area, white coat slung casually over one arm, cigarette already tucked behind her ear like she’s counting down the seconds till she can light it.

She’s talking to someone — a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a pressed button-down and slacks — someone who looks so polished, so put-together you almost don’t recognize him.

And then you do.

“Is that... Nanami?” you murmur, blinking.

Satoru hums. “Huh. Didn’t know he had a neck under all that hair.”

It is Kento. Or at least some grown-up version of him. Gone is the black hoodie, the perpetual slouch, the mess of hair that half-covered his face back in high school. The last time you saw him — what, three years ago? — he was still deep in whatever post-Haibara spiral he’d been in, all sharp edges and shadowed eyes.

Now he looks… good. Better. Still serious as hell, but like he’s figured out how to breathe again.

You elbow Satoru lightly. “Be nice.”

“I am nice.”

You roll your eyes and call out before Satoru can cause trouble. “Shoko!”

She turns, spots you both, and smirks. “Took you long enough.”

Nanami glances over, polite as ever. “It’s been a while.”

Satoru grins wide. “Nanamin! You clean up well. Didn’t know you were capable of looking like a grown up.”

Nanami sighs. “Gojo.”

Even with everything hanging in the air, it feels like old friends, almost whole again.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, and you mean it.

Nanami nods, a little softer now. “Likewise.”

Shoko’s already fishing for her lighter when Satoru plucks the cigarette from behind her ear and tucks it into his pocket with a smug grin. “Not today, Doc. You’re supposed to be the picture of health and success.”

She sighs. “It’s graduation, Gojo.”

“You can have two tomorrow.”

Nanami watches the exchange with faint amusement. “Some things never change.”

You smile faintly. “Yeah… some do, though.”

Nanami’s gaze flicks to you — sharp, but not unkind. He’s always been good at reading a room, at hearing what wasn’t being said. You can tell he knows there’s something heavier sitting underneath today’s smiles, but he doesn’t press.

Instead, Satoru stretches, clapping Nanami on the shoulder a little harder than necessary. “So. Big-time salaryman now, huh?”

Nanami exhales through his nose. “Have been. For a while.”

“That’s good,” Shoko says, her voice a little warmer.

“Actually…” You glance at Satoru, then back at Nanami. “We were going to swing by Jujutsu High after this. Could use your input on a few things. If you’re free.”

Nanami considers for half a second. “Of course.”

Satoru grins. “Knew you couldn’t resist the allure of cursed paperwork.”

Nanami sighs, dry. “It’s the company I tolerate.”

Shoko smirks. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Nanami adjusts his glasses. “And yet, here I am.”

You can’t help it — a small laugh escapes before you can stop it.

Half an hour later, you find yourself in the backseat of Satoru’s car beside Nanami, the city sliding past in a blur of late afternoon light. Shoko had begged off at the last minute, muttering something about post-grad drinking obligations — which Satoru, of course, had encouraged.

You glance sideways at Nanami, taking in the crisp button-down, the tailored slacks — and the distinct shape of muscle under the fabric.

“Since when have you been working out?” you ask, eyebrow raised, poking lightly at his arm.

He barely glances at you. “Since I started sitting at a desk ten hours a day.”

You grin. “Gotta offset all those corporate lunches, huh?”

He exhales a short breath, which is his version of a laugh. “Something like that.”

Truthfully, he looks a lot different than the skinny, sharp-edged kid you knew in high school.

Satoru glances at you both in the rearview mirror. “Told you, didn’t I? Nanamin’s got a whole double life going. Salaryman by day, gym rat by night.”

Nanami sighs. “Hardly.”

You lean back in your seat, smiling faintly. “Well. Suits you.”

When you arrive at the school, you let Satoru lead the way — past the familiar old corridors, through doors that still creak in the same spots — until you’re standing in front of what used to be a classroom, now repurposed into something closer to a detective’s office.

The sign on the door is new, but the space behind it isn’t.

Inside, the desks have been pushed aside and replaced with battered filing cabinets, stacks of mission reports, and corkboards littered with photos of curses and various sorcerers. The windows are cracked open just enough to let in the late spring air, stirring the corners of loose papers.

Satoru kicks the door open with the side of his foot. “Home sweet home,” he says wryly.

Nanami steps inside after him, gaze sweeping the room with that practiced efficiency of his. “Looks about as organized as I expected.”

“Hey,” Satoru says. “I cleaned last month.”

You follow them in, fingertips brushing along the edge of an old chalkboard — faded, the ghost of old lessons still barely visible beneath layers of dust.

It feels strange, being back here.

Stranger still with everything hanging unspoken between the three of you.

You exhale slowly. “Alright. Let’s get started.”

You slide one of the chalkboards aside — the old kind, stacked so one rolls over the other on metal tracks — revealing what’s been hidden behind it.

A wall of connected threads.

Photos, mission reports, sightings. Old newspaper clippings. Surveillance stills. Faded personal snapshots from before everything fractured. And between it all — lengths of thin red string criss-crossing from one pinned corner to another, tying the pieces together in a web of almost-connections.

At the center of it all: Suguru.

A grainy photo from a year ago — the most recent lead that didn’t dead-end — pinned dead center beneath the tangled mess of red.

Nanami stops beside you, gaze sharpening. You see the flicker of recognition in his expression, quickly masked behind that steady professionalism of his.

Satoru drops lazily into the nearest chair, spinning it half around so he can lean his arms across the back. “Welcome to the obsession,” he says.

You cross your arms, eyes still on the board. “It’s not an obsession.”

“It’s definitely an obsession,” Nanami says, voice low but even.

“It’s my job,” you correct, though it sounds thin even to your own ears.

Nanami doesn’t comment. He just studies the board, taking it all in — the threads, the gaps, the unanswered questions.

Satoru lets the chair rock back a little, arms folded over the top rail. “Yeah. Well. Sometimes the job eats you alive.”

You don’t respond to that. You just step closer to the board, fingertips brushing over the nearest pinned photo — an old surveillance shot, Suguru half-turned, features obscured by shadow. He looks different. And exactly the same.

Nanami’s voice cuts through the quiet. “What do you want from me?”

You glance over your shoulder. “Input. Perspective.”

“And honesty,” Satoru adds lazily. “She’s too close to this. I am too. Yaga thinks fresh eyes might help.”

Nanami exhales slowly, crossing his arms. “Fine. Show me everything.”

You nod once, reaching for the stack of folders beside the board. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

Nanami steps in beside you, hands sliding into his pockets as you open the first file, old mission reports from the first confirmed sightings after Suguru disappeared. Places, dates, vague descriptions.

You speak as you work, laying out the chain of what’s known — the near-misses, the shadows left behind, the cursed energy signatures just faint enough to stay out of range. You don’t look up to check if Nanami’s listening. You know he is.

Satoru stays quiet now, no jokes. Just watches from his chair, spinning a pen between his fingers.

You reach the middle of the stack — the first real photograph. Suguru, half-turned in a train station, hood pulled low but not low enough to fool you. The cursed energy in the air around him thick enough to make the camera lens stutter.

You pause, fingertips pressed lightly to the edge of the photo. “That was Sendai. March.”

Nanami leans in. “The sighting Gojo mentioned.”

You nod once.

He studies the threads, the photos, the marked points on the board. “He’s moving in patterns.”

“That’s what we think,” Satoru says. “But they don’t track like normal movements. No logic we can follow.”

“Not random either,” you add. “There’s intent.”

Nanami tilts his head, considering. “Then what’s he waiting for?”

You don’t answer right away. The question coils in your chest, cold and heavy — because you’ve turned it over in your mind more times than you can count.

“We don’t really know,” you say finally, voice even. “His last killing was that small village at the end of last year. And since then—nothing. No cursed outbreaks linked to him. Every time he wipes out an area, he scrubs it clean — no cursed energy left behind, no tracks. He’s always been precise like that.”

You glance at the board, at the pin marked Sendai.

“So why start now,” you murmur, half to yourself, “especially since there wasn’t any criminal activity that day. No disappearances. No attacks. No known sorcerer targets.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. “Only thing going on was the curse I was dealing with.”

Nanami follows your gaze. “So either it’s coincidence… or it’s message.”

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly. “That’s what we can’t figure out.”

And what you won’t say — not yet — is the thought gnawing at you since that day:

Maybe it wasn’t a message for the Jujutsu Society. Maybe it was a message for you.

“Can I ask you something?” Nanami says.

You nod, fingers lightly tracing the edge of the folder in front of you.

He watches you for a moment, steady. “That day, back when you all spoke to him. What happened between you two?”

You go still.

“I mean,” Nanami continues, voice even, “Shoko and Satoru told us how their conversations went. But you… you’ve never said anything. Even now.”

The quiet stretches. Satoru shifts slightly in his chair, but says nothing.

You keep your gaze on the files, refusing to meet either of their eyes. The words are there — sharp, tangled — but you don’t let them out.

Instead, you draw in a slow breath. Let it out just as slow.

“I didn’t get anything useful,” you say, voice flat. “It doesn’t matter.”

Nanami studies you a second longer, but he doesn’t press. He’s not the type. He just nods once. “Alright.”

Satoru’s gaze flicks toward you, unreadable behind his sunglasses.

You lower yourself onto the floor, back against the base of the board. The files are spread around you now — pieces of a puzzle that refuses to fit.

Satoru rolls his chair lazily toward you, knees bracketing your shoulders as you settle between his legs. One of his hands rests loosely on the back of your head, fingers brushing through your hair in slow, absent motions — thoughtless comfort. Familiar.

You lean your head back slightly, closing your eyes for a breath.

“What if,” Nanami says, voice cutting through the quiet, “and just hear me out on this—”

You open your eyes again. His gaze is steady on you, the weight of it making your chest feel tight.

“We all know Suguru wouldn’t get Shoko involved in any of this,” he continues. “He knows she’s not here right now. And Satoru—” a glance toward him, “—he burned those bridges long ago.”

Satoru doesn’t argue.

“So,” Nanami says, slow, deliberate, “what if he’s trying to get your attention.”

The words hit harder than they should. You feel it — the way Satoru’s fingers still for half a beat before moving again.

You swallow. Your mouth is dry.

“I don’t—” you start, but the words falter.

Nanami’s expression doesn’t shift. He’s not accusing, just stating the obvious.

“Why would he do that?” you ask, forcing your voice steady. “We haven’t spoken in six years. He’s probably moved on.”

It sounds reasonable. It sounds logical. It also sounds like a lie — and from the glance Nanami gives you, he knows it too.

Satoru says nothing, but his hand keeps moving through your hair, slower now. You can feel the shift in him — the tension creeping in beneath the easy facade.

Nanami holds your gaze for a long moment. “You don’t believe that.”

You don’t answer. Because he’s right, you don’t.

“Look,” Nanami says, tone even. “I’ve given you something to think about.”

He hesitates for half a second, then adds: “And… I might know something. But I’m not sure if it’s connected to Geto.”

Your head lifts. “What is it?”

“One of my coworkers,” he clarifies, “has a daughter. A few weeks ago, she started showing classic symptoms of a curse. Strong one. But obviously, they didn’t know that, no one in that world would.”

You nod, following.

Nanami continues: “Apparently, a few days after the symptoms appeared, she suddenly got better. Out of nowhere. Now the family’s saying some ‘god’ removed it. And the girl’s been going to this new… temple. Except it’s not affiliated with any known sect or shrine.”

You frown. “A god that knows how to exorcise curses.”

“Exactly,” Nanami says. “And from the way my coworker described it… it sounded off. Too specific. Like someone who knew exactly what they were doing.”

Your stomach turns.

Because there aren’t many people who’d know how to do something like that.

And only one who might do it under the guise of something else.

“Don’t follow up on that yet,” Nanami says firmly. “It could mean nothing.”

You glance at him. “You really think that?”

He exhales, gaze steady. “I think… if it is connected to Geto, it won’t be the only lead. And if it’s not, stirring it up could make things worse.”

You nod slowly, fingers curling slightly against your leg. “Alright. I’ll hold.”

Satoru leans back in his chair, arms folded. “For now.”

Nanami gives him a look, but doesn’t argue.

“I’ll see what I can find out for you,” Nanami says, straightening a bit. “But it could take a while.”

You nod. “That’s fine. Just… let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.”

He glances at the board one last time, taking it in — the photos, the strings, the weight of all of it — before stepping back.

He grabs his coat from the back of a chair, shrugging it on with practiced ease.

“Look,” he says, voice level but firm. “I’m always glad to help out a friend. But I left this all behind for a reason. And I’d appreciate it if you left me out of this mess in the future.”

You open your mouth — to apologize, maybe, or to argue — but he’s already turning toward the door.

“It’s not personal,” Nanami adds, glancing back at you. “I just… know how this ends.”

You nod, the words sticking in your throat. You reach back, grabbing onto Satoru’s thighs to help yourself up. He lets you, hands steadying your shoulders as you stand.

Without thinking, you cross the room after Nanami — catching him just before he reaches the door.

He blinks as you step in, arms going around him in a quick, tight hug. You feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he exhales softly after a beat.

He doesn’t return it fully, but he doesn’t pull away either.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“Yeah, no problem,” he says. Then, with a small tilt of his head, eyes flicking between you and Satoru across the room, he adds, “Also… you better be careful.”

You blink up at him.

“When you do find Geto,” Nanami says, tone even but edged, “he won’t be too happy about that.” He motions — a small, pointed gesture — to you and Satoru.

Your breath catches, but you say nothing.

Nanami nods once, as if to himself. “Good luck.”

Speechless and red in the face, you manage to mutter a quick, “Don’t be a stranger,” before shooing him out of the room, hand on his shoulder as you push him toward the hallway.

Nanami only gives the faintest sigh, but he lets you. “I never am,” he says simply, before striding off down the corridor to find his own way out.

You stand there for a second, cheeks still burning, the door swinging softly closed behind him.

Behind you, you hear the slow creak of Satoru’s chair.

“Well…” he drawls, voice light but amused. “That was interesting.”

You don’t turn around. Just cross your arms, still facing the door. “Don’t.”

He hums, wheels of the chair squeaking faintly as he rolls closer. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking about it.”

There’s a pause. You can feel him right behind you now, warmth at your back.

“Okay,” he says softly. “But for the record… he’s not wrong.”

You exhale, finally turning to face him — cheeks still warm, heart still a little too high in your chest. “Satoru.”

He holds up both hands, surrendering, though there’s that little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, alright. No more teasing. For now.”

He leans back in the chair, watching you with that lazy, knowing look of his.

“…You okay?” he asks after a beat, quieter now. No teasing this time. Just him.

“Yeah,” you say, letting out a slow breath. “I’m just… confused by what he meant.”

Satoru tilts his head, watching you. “You’re not that confused.”

You frown. “I mean—he’s assuming things.”

“Is he?” There’s no teasing in his voice now — just that maddening, calm certainty he gets when he’s seeing straight through you.

You look away, arms crossing a little tighter. “I don’t know.”

He’s quiet for a second, then his chair rolls a little closer, knees bumping yours as he leans forward.

“Look,” he says, voice soft, “Nanami says what everyone else is thinking, yeah. But what matters is what you want. Not him. Not anyone else.”

Your heart skips. You meet his eyes — and for a second, you can’t look away.

The air between you shifts.. Like a line you’ve both been careful not to cross for a long time is suddenly a little too close.

Satoru doesn’t move. Just watches you, eyes unreadable behind the slight tilt of his sunglasses. The light catches them, making it impossible to tell what, exactly, he’s thinking.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, lower this time, almost careful. “Because if you’re confused… about this—”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you — a small, loose movement, but you feel it like a spark along your skin.

Your mouth goes dry and you shift your weight, crossing your arms tighter. “We’re just friends.”

A beat.

“You keep saying that,” he says quietly. “I’m starting to wonder if you actually believe it.”

That lands harder than you expect — your breath catching, the back of your neck prickling hot.

You look away, pulse high in your throat.

“I mean,” you say, words tumbling a little faster than you mean them to, “it makes sense that we’re so close. Haibara died, Suguru…” you swallow, “…turned evil. Shoko went to med school. Nanami left. I mean—it’s just been us two. So we’re just… close friends.”

You hear how thin it sounds. How rehearsed.

Because the truth is — you’ve never really thought of it. Not seriously. Not until now, not until Nanami’s offhand comment cracked something open you’d spent years keeping shut.

You’d only ever seen Suguru that way. Thought of him that way. The only person who could be your person — your soulmate.

There hadn’t been room to imagine anyone else.

Not even Satoru. Especially not Satoru. And now that the thought is in your head — it won’t leave.

You can feel him watching you.

He shifts in the chair again, the soft creak of the wheels loud in the quiet room. One of his knees bumps yours — not by accident.

“You keep saying it like you’re trying to convince yourself,” he says, voice low.

You swallow hard, still staring at some distant point on the floor. “I’m not.”

“Mm.” You can hear the doubt in the sound he makes — soft, almost amused, but there’s something beneath it too. Something heavier.

You finally risk a glance down at him.

And that’s a mistake.

Because he’s looking at you like he knows. Like he’s always known. And now you’re the only one pretending not to see it.

Your chest tightens.

Satoru’s gaze doesn’t waver. “You really never thought about it?”

Until an hour ago, you hadn’t. Not really.

Your mouth opens and stays there, useless.

Because until now, you hadn’t thought about it. Not the way Nanami said. Not the way Satoru’s looking at you now. Not the way your pulse won’t settle.

And every reason you might give — we’ve been through too much, it’s not like that, Suguru was— None of it feels solid anymore.

You force out a breath, voice quieter this time. “I didn’t… used to.”

That lands heavier than you expect. In the space between you, something shifts.

Satoru’s gaze flickers. “But now?”

You press your lips together. Shoulders tense. “Nanami shouldn’t have said anything.”

“That’s not an answer,” Satoru murmurs.

You shake your head, a weak laugh slipping out — humorless. “I can’t—” You stop yourself. 

Suguru’s face still lives behind your eyes. He still owns too much of your heart.

You feel the warmth of his hand before you see it — fingers curling light around your wrist, grounding.

“I’m not asking for an answer,” he says, voice low, steady. “Not now.”

You swallow, throat tight.

“But don’t lie to me,” he adds, softer now. “You don’t have to protect me. I’m the strongest for a reason.”

Your heart stumbles. Because it was never about protecting him.

You finally look, your eyes meeting his.

Satoru watches you for a long moment, gaze open, unflinching. His thumb brushes slowly over the inside of your wrist.

“I’m here,” he says simply. “Whatever you decide.”

And somehow, that’s worse than if he’d pushed.

“I can’t, Satoru,” you whisper, voice cracking at the edges. “We never even broke up. He just… left. And I don’t have any closure. It’s not fair.”

You swallow hard, pulse thudding painfully high in your chest. The words keep coming before you can stop them.

“You’re my only friend. The only one who didn’t leave me. And I’m not ready to ruin that.”

For a long second, he doesn’t move and doesn’t say anything. His grip on your wrist is light, but steady.

“You can’t ruin what’s already yours,” Satoru says softly.

The words land deep, a raw ache twisting under your ribs.

You turn your face away, eyes burning, voice thin. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he says. “But I meant it anyway.”

He finally stands, towering over you — just half a foot between you now — before his arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you into him.

The breath catches in your chest, but you don’t fight it. You just sink in, forehead resting against the soft press of his shirt.

“You’re my only friend too,” he says quietly, voice low against your ear. “And I’d rather have that than nothing.”

You close your eyes, the ache in your chest easing — not gone, but quieter.

Then you feel it — the light press of his lips against your forehead. 

“C’mon,” Satoru murmurs, voice a little lighter now. “Let’s get out of here. It’s our day off anyway.”

You let out a shaky breath, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. The smile he gives you is easy — real.

You nod. “Okay.”

And just like that, the knot in your chest loosens.

taglist: @twilightsumu @mik4kn0x @bubblegumcat229 @poopooindamouf @se-phi-roth @twinkling-moonlillie @11thlife02 @perqbeth @love-me-satoru @pillkits @not-a-glad-gladiator @xarnesss @irwinchester @myabae @linaaeatsfamilies @nanamisbbygirl @timedisappears @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @chewiebee @por0u @ppejmurde @ssetsuka

taglist is still open, comment on series masterlist to be added

[bloomness]

could i get track thirteen with hawks?? 👀👀👀👀👀 congrats on 500 bloom baby <33

if you want to by beabadobee ft. keigo [hawks]

event m.list

જ⁀➴ having insomnia is hard but keigo makes it easier

contains: gn!reader, pre-relationship/situationship, stubborn!reader

word count: 1.8k

“if you wanna take me”

“go ahead and try my head”

you can see the city lights blinking outside your balcony door from your spot in bed. they twinkled big and small, slow and fast, leaving a reflecting sparkle in your eye. the moonlight slips out through the crack between the blinds that you could never quite fully close. it shone over your fan, which was creaking just a bit too loudly with every turn. it lit up your bedside table, exposing the layer of dust that had been accumulating on top of it for over a week, a task you’d been telling yourself you'd do but had yet to come around to. the moon lit up your hands, still, cold—but not from the fan, from emptiness. 

you turned over on your mattress. the pillows that you spent—what now felt like useless—time fluffing huffed softly underneath you. you flicked off an crumb from the blanket that you had washed twice before making your bed to ensure cleanliness. 

your eyes darted across the night-dimmed room, tired but awake and it all felt like a joke. 

you had tried it all. different flavors of teas, medication, mediation, exercising, everything. but nothing seemed to help seize the running thoughts that occupied your nights and prevented you from a restful sleep.

“experience is nothing compared to” 

you threw your sheets off of you and shuffled to the edge of your bed, your head hung in your hands as you silently hoped keigo wouldn’t show up to find you in such a humiliating state. but (unwillingly) knowing the persistent hero, he would. 

“the sleep paralysis in my bed”

finally, you decide you’ get up and try to do something productive around the house. you slip on your house slippers and step out of your bedroom and into your kitchen.

the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating your sparkling, clean kitchen. Earlier you had spent forty-five minutes scrubbing all the counters, fifteen mintues washing all the dishes, ten minutes sweeping and mopping the floor, all in hope of crashing out from exhaustion afterwards. it had not worked.

“experience is nothing compared to”

you shuffled over to the fridge and opened it. your eyes searched the levels, drawers, and side doors of the cool box, but to no avail, it still being as empty as it was when you had checked it just an hour ago. 

your eyes floated over to the kettle resting on the stove. you could try for tea again, but you knew in the end that’d be helpless.

you then looked to the cupboards. maybe you could make something to eat? but you aren’t hungry, it’d be a waste of food and you need to go grocery shopping anyways. 

the clock hung above the archway read 3:32. it ticked softly as you ran your hand over your face, exhaling a low groan. 

“the nights I'm always up so late”

suddenly, you heard a thud, one that sounded like it emitted from something made of metal. there was a clang, then a click, and then a soft swoosh. the sounds of cars driving by and street lights beeping momentarily filled your apartment distance before there was another click, and it went silent. 

you sighed and flicked off the kitchen light, moving to the origin of the noise with no urgency.

your bedroom door is already open, so it doesn’t take you longer than a second to spot him, leaning against the door frame to your balcony with a dopey grin plastered on his face. 

the night's light shines against the back of his lean figure, a vibrant glow outlining the blend from the furry edge of his cherry-stained wings to his rugged corduroy jacket. the set up almost made it seem like the universe was making the petty number two hero out to be an angel sent down from heaven personally for you. 

keigo’s the first to speak up today. “you just had to pick the highest floor to live on, huh?” his voice is teasing, but you know his intentions are nowhere near that. he stretches his arms up as he takes a stepped onto your carpeted bedroom floor, pushing the balcony door shut behind him. “that’s okay,” he yawns and walks to your dresser, finger dragging along its edge as his eyes scan the product placed on top of it. “not much of a problem for me, of course.” his head tilts up at you, amber eyes finally making contact with yours.

“hawks.” you deadpan, body still—unable to move—between the threshold of your bedroom door. 

you try not to make it obvious that you’re shocked he’s here. this wouldn’t be the first time he did this. or the second. or the third. the truth was, this exact situation has played out more times than you’d like to make the effort to count. but for some reason, every time he said he’d show up, you refused to believe it until he was standing right in front of you.  

“uh uh.” keigo waves his finger. “it’s keigo, ‘member? not on duty when i’m with you, babe.” 

“you’re in uniform.” 

“ah,” he huffs out a laugh and swiftly approaches you. “you’re funny tonight.” he comes to stand right in front of you, his forearm resting up above on the wall you shared. you could see the way his body just barely leaned forward, and the way his head tipped down as his eyes raked down your facial features. 

“if you wanna love me”

you feel your face burn under his attendant gaze. “what?” you muttered, bringing a cooling hand up to your cheek as you peered up at him. 

“how many hours?” keigo asked gently. he didn’t need to explain himself any further. you knew exactly what he meant as soon as the playful hint in his golden eyes flashed off. the ‘fun and cheerful hero hawks’ was now being temporarily masked with ‘serious keigo’, someone that he claimed only you were lucky enough to see—like you’d believe that.

“try to get inside my brain”

you look past him. “doesn’t matter.”

keigo taps his finger against the wall, “matters enough for me to break into your bedroom at three in the morning.” he half shrugs, like the fact that he’s here so late, in the middle of his shift, when you're both clearly exhausted, isn’t that much trouble for him at all. 

you mentally brace yourself before providing an answer, “i took a nap earlier but.. i haven’t been able to sleep since last night.”

you could feel the rhythm of the tapping steadily increasing above you. “and have you been eating?”

“keigo…” the question is personal, too personal to be considered causal, as if anything about this situation was causal.

but he urged on, “answer the question, dove.”  you caught a flash of genuine worry spread cross his face.

you shudder at the old nickname and waver. “i’ve been eating well.” keigo gives you a look so you assure, “i promise.”

keigo bites the side of his cheek while nodding slowly before kicking off the side of the wall and making his way to the side of your bed. once there, he begins fluffing your half-deflated pillows.

you blinked. “what are you doing?”

he hardly glanced up at you. “come on, do we have to do this every time? ’m making our bed, love.”

“'cause if you want, you could stay with me in my bed”

“keigo..” you hurry over to the spot beside him, reaching to stop his working hands. “don’t. you shouldn’t.” you grab his wrist, holding them still. and even though you both know well that he is a helluva a lot stronger than you and could pull you off if he wanted, he stops. 

“if you want to”

“y/n..” his voice is even softer now, lilt mirroring one of someone super desperate—pleading. he looks down at you, shoulders slump, typical big smile dripping from his face. “why won’t you let me do this for you?” 

“only if you want to”

it’s a question not to be answered. it’s a question you can’t answer. you don’t like handouts and you absolutely refuse to take them from anyone, that’s the way you are. but your relationship with keigo felt like only that. 

“if you want, you can go ahead and fix my head”

he was helpful, so helpful—more so then you’d like to say out loud. he was kind, sweet, and charming when he wanted to be. and it crushed your pride to let him into your home like this, into your heart like this. 

“if you want to”

“let me do this for you.” he said, correcting his words from before. 

“only if you want to”

“keigo, no—“ 

“just one more time.” that what he says every time. 

“keigo—“

“please.” 

his feathers flutter behind him, and he looks down at you with those sun-glassed eyes. 

your eyes narrowed before eventually falling onto the ground, silently admitting defeat. 

you didn’t have to look up to know that keigo was back to sporting his proud smile. after a minute of tidying up he says, “tucked the pillows nice and soft for ya,” he held his hands out as if to present the dynasty of keigo fluffed pillows in your own bedroom. “go ahead, hop on in.” 

you held back from punching his shoulder—to exhausted to anyways—and simply rolled your eyes, climbing into the bed without a mouthy complaint. 

“there we go.” keigo watches as you situate yourself under your blanket and gently rest your head back on the now full pillows. “how we feeling? need anything? water? a snack?” 

you shook your head, sinking deeper into the mattress—which felt way softer than it did twenty minutes ago. 

“how about the temperature? too hot?” he asked cautiously. “too cold, maybe? dunno about you but i feel a little draft coming in here.” he chuckled sheepishly.

you held back the smile trying to push past your lips and patted the spot beside you invitingly. “you’re.. really stupid, you know that?” you prodded, useless teasing mimicking keigo’s from earlier. 

keigo didn’t falter for a second, immediately climbing under the covers and puzzling his body right with yours. his arms wrapped around your waist, and he placed his chin onto your shoulder “am i?” he whispered the question along your neck. “cause it looks like i got what i wanted.” he murmured as his wings came around to warm you up. 

you didn’t reply. you didn’t put up a fight, not now. it was too easy now to let yourself drift off into darkness as keigo voluntarily shielded you from the horrors of a restless night.  

“if they try to, only if they try to”

some things are bigger than pride. you’d come to realize that eventually.

note: lysa!!! thank you for putting in a request. okay sooooo this is actually my first time writing for hawks so i’m so sorry if it’s a little ooc but i did try my best to encapsulate this dorks personality. i really think he’s lowkey sooo slick and he knows it! but it’s okay cus he’d never take advantage of you (unless it’s cuddling you to sleep, he’ll always do that)

taglist: @stargirlygirl @megumismyhusband @kitkat13001 @peachesvault

[siilent-wanderer]

Good Morning, Love

Summary: Minjeong wakes before the sun to chase the light and make her love a cup of coffee — just the way she likes it.

Word Count: 0.5k words

Kim Minjeong (Winter) x fem!reader

Minjeong was up before the sun.

The apartment was still hushed, curtains drawn, air a little cold from the early hour. But she moved through it quietly, barefoot and gentle, like she didn’t want to wake the stillness just yet.

Oh, I’ll chase the sun before you wake your eyes I’ll make you coffee just the way you like

She stood in the kitchen, head tilted as she watched the water boil. A sleepy smile tugged at her lips when she grabbed the mug — Y/N’s mug, the chipped one she’d offered to replace a dozen times before giving up. A spoon clinked against the side, stirring the sugar in carefully, three times, like always.

I’ll be sure that your cup is as warm as my love, ’Cause I love you just the way you like

When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, the morning sun had just started to spill through the curtains. And there was Y/N — face buried in her pillow, cheek pressed to her arm, hair messy and wild in a way only Minjeong found perfect.

Y/N stirred, eyes fluttering open at the quiet creak of the door.

“You’re up early,” she murmured, voice still laced with sleep.

“Morning,” Minjeong whispers, soft as the steam curling from the cup. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Y/N smiles, sleep-heavy and lopsided. “You didn’t.”

Minjeong set the mug down on the bedside table and leaned in, brushing Y/N’s hair back from her face with fingers so tender it made her chest ache.

“I made you coffee just the way you like,” she added, soft and fond. “No cream, extra sweet. I even stirred it exactly three times.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a drowsy smile before laughing. “That’s excessive.”

Minjeong grinned. “I love you excessively.””

And then — when Y/N turned into her touch, lips brushing softly against her cheek — she laughed quietly and dipped down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose.

When you turn in and face my side to kiss me, It makes me giddy, I’m gonna kiss your nose

Y/N’s hand reached for the hem of her sweatshirt, fingers curling and tugging gently.

“Come back to bed.”

“I should let you rest.”

“I wasn’t resting,” Y/N murmurs. “I was missing you.”

Minjeong hesitated, only for a second. Then her knees hit the mattress and she folded herself into Y/N’s arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“If I didn’t have to do anything today,” she whispers into your hair, “I’d make love to you all morning, then sleep, and do it again. Just like this.”

If only I could lie here and make love to you all day, I’ll hold you and never let you go

Their legs tangled under the covers. The sun spilled slowly across the sheets. The coffee sat forgotten on the nightstand, still steaming.

And in that perfect silence — warm skin against skin, breath mingling, hearts beating steadily at the same time — Minjeong thought:

This. This is everything.

[sergle]

also i stayed in a hotel for the night because the drive to the show was like ~5 hours, so couldn't just come straight back after the show and i was almost sentenced to death, because in the room, there was like a little bedside radio / alarm clock setup, and it was putting out the most awful, subtle-until-you-notice-it electrical feedback noise

[tonycries]

Long Overdue!

Synopsis. Just cóckwarming? Funny, you’ll see who breaks first - him or your poor pússy.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóckwarming, creampíes, puníshments, REALLY NÉEDY BOYS, breéding, MAJOR overstím, slight exhíbitionism (Toji’s), spítting, they bég, pússy-slappíng, cúmplay, absolutely ruíning Ryomen Sukuna, marathon séx, chokíng, jealousy (Toji’s side), mean Geto, spànking, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (sowwy)

A/N. I would say have a lovely week but then I remembered that leaks are coming out so…<3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 47 min.

“B-but, doll…” Toji’s groaning in that raggedly sweet tone, voice cracking ever-so-slightly when your plush walls gift him with another unabashed squeeze. Still unmoving. Torturous. “You’re actin’ like I can’t feel the way that needy pussy of yours is just cryin’ f’me.”

It hasn’t even been an hour, and oh god - Toji had absolutely no idea how he was going to make it out of this alive. No clue as to how he was going to break out of these extra heavy-duty handcuffs customized for him. To fuck up into your heavenly cunt the way you deserved. 

The way he deserved. 

“Sh-shut up.” you scoff, looking down at where you had him pinned down messily on the silken sheets. “Before I put a muzzle on you, too, after that stunt you pulled-”

“Anything.” he’s cutting you off. Syrupy mind just a bit too hazy with the feeling of his weepy tip kissing up against your g-spot and being able to do nothing about it. “Anything oh anything- muzzle me, tie me up- ngh fuckin’ call that loser coworker of yours and make me apologize for all I care. Just needa-” 

Toji’s breath hitches when he squirms pathetically underneath you, biceps bulging when he pulls at those fuzzy pink restraints tied to the bedposts. 

“Jus- want you to- fuckin’-” You’re squealing when you feel his thick, muscled thighs flex to plant his feet flat on the plush mattress, toned pelvis rippling. Body bowing up, up, up- “-move!”

It’s barely even a half-thrust, a grind - nothing in comparison to those long, thorough drags of Toji’s cock that you were used to. But the feeling of your every corner being stretched out so full after staying still for so long has you huffing and puffing in a way that has his swollen cock growing even girthier. 

“It’s been ngh-” you reach blearily for the phone at your bedside table to look at the time. “-47 minutes! Y-you don’t get to act this way, y’know. Not after you were so rude to my coworker when meeting him earlier.” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Toji quirks a proud brow, cockiness seeping into his words now that he had you exactly where he wanted after so long. “No, I wasn’t.” 

You’re babbling needily when your boyfriend’s reaching up to kiss at your bruised lips. Soft and licking at the seam of your petty complaints. “You told him to ‘fuck off’ right to his face, Toji! N’ after he was just being nice.”

“Just nice”, his ass. Toji saw the way he looked at you - and he didn’t like it, not one bit.

So in response, all you’re getting is another buck of his hips like such an animal. Once. Twice. Body curling up into yours to stuff your snug channel full. He’s waiting just until you keen and arch back for more before halting so agonizingly still, letting his painfully hard cock mold your plush walls. 

You have to take a moment to collect yourself at the sensation of his prominent veins rubbing up against those hidden sweet spots only Toji could reach. To stop yourself from fucking back desperately. 

“Dontcha think I’ve hah- already learned my lesson now, c’mon. Look-” Greedy eyes locking down at where you straddled him, your pretty pussy lips spread obscenely around his thick shaft. So so angry, covered in a mouthwateringly glossy sheen of your sweet sweet juices. “-bet she wants to be fucked like the slut she is.”

The force of his sharp pelvis has you tumbling face-first first into his chiseled pecs, just enough that Toji’s latching his bullying mouth onto one of your hardened nipples. Smug scar grazing against your sensitive areola, “Besides, is it really my fault?” Another ram, another crash against your ravaged g-spot, pumping in and out like he was addicted to the soft tug of your clingy walls back - now past just cockwarming. Way past. “Please, s’my right to be jealous, doll.” you watch his lewd smirk turn into something grittier. Something that definitely didn’t bode well for your poor cunt. Muffling out, “Sick bastards gotta know when to stay away from my woman.”

Before you’re opening your mouth to retort - or maybe threaten him with tying his legs up, too, so he’s left with only another 40 minutes of cockwarming - a sharp ring of your phone cuts through that heady, hypnotic air. 

Toji only has to angle his head towards the flashing screen on the forgotten phone still dangling limply from your hand, and then his eyes are lighting up with such dangerous delight. “Answer it.”

“Wh-what?” you sputter. “Who is-”

Your coworker. 

“Answer it.”

It’s the slow, sultry push and pull of Toji’s hips that have now got you in such a cockdrunk daze, a soft ah! ah! ah! leaving you with every rhythmic grind. He’s using the handcuffs as leverage to arch his hips off the bed, inching you closer and closer to puff out a feverishly sweet kiss onto your forehead. Whispering gently, “Answer it f’me, doll.”

And no sooner is the soft pad of your shaky thumb swiping across the screen, that tinny voice of your coworkers blaring through the speakers that-

“Hello?”

SNAP!

The handcuffs are hitting the hardwood floors before realization hits you - and in all of three seconds, Toji’s hulking frame is set free. Two rough palms sliding to your hips and just slamming you down the entire length of his throbbing cock. Burying so deep inside your heavenly cunt that you could feel the scratch of his public hair against your clit, Toi’s heavy balls twitching against your ass. And his voice - low and rumbling with need when he’s pulling your whole body weight up, up, up to kiss at his leaky, pink tip. And down. Again. And again and again and-

“Let’s show this fucker how sorry I really am, huh?”

�� NANAMI KENTO - As long as you want, darling.

“Are you sure, my love?” Nanami whispers in your ear in a low, satiny purr. The hot water from that candlelit bubble bath he’d lit sloshing around just a bit when two large, rugged hands of his come down to massage your shoulders gently. “S’been a long day.”

And, really, it has. A long day of overly picky clients and an even pickier manager - a long day that your lovely husband was slowly crumbling away bit by bit. Chest rumbling behind yours, legs intertwined with yours in the water, thick cock stuffed deep in your cunt. 

You’re slowly nudged back into reality when he’s planting a lazy, heated trail of open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder. “If you want to sit in silence we can do that, too, darling.”

“No, s’okay, Ken.” It’s all you can do to manage out a hazy shake of your head, looking up from where your back was pulled flushed against his hard, sculpted front. Grinding the curve of your ass back to drag against his abs, skin-on-skin. “Want you.”

Fuck, that has him twitching like a man starved inside you. And the stretch, oh - it made your toes curl in depravity, head spinning at just how much your gummy walls were being molded to the exact shape and size of him. Memorizing every little curve and pattern of lewd throbs along your pussy. 

A low rumbling sound in the back of his throat, heavy balls so so ready and squeezing painfully at your obscene words. 

“But- you know if I go rough on you-”

You kiss his sharp jaw, licking languidly along the long column of his milky throat. Drinking in his heady, masculine scent to murmur, “And I want you now.”

And, well, how could Nanami Kento ever deny his pretty lil’ wife?

Which is why, in all of three seconds, the man himself had you reaching across the bathtub on all fours. Knees weak and shaking like a newborn fawn where he held you up easily by your hips, swollen cock still angry and splitting your poor cunt apart from behind. 

“Whatever my love wants-” you hear Nanami breathe out shakily, moving from the first time since he carried you inside the bathroom to reel every long fucking inch of his girthy cock out, out, out from your sloppy hole. And if you angled your head back just right you could catch that messy glisten of your slick down his shaft. All the way until his fat tip was smearing all over your glossy folds. Waiting. Greedy. “-she will get.”

And his words were so sincere - solid, thorough, just like the dizzying thrust he was gifting your poor cunt with. Stretching that first rim of muscle so wide, feeding your pussy every inch he could give. 

“O-oh-” you moan brokenly, your thighs already shaky with the stimulation of having Nanami squeeze his fat shaft down in bullying thrusts just to fit his mean cock inside. “Oh my god, Ken s’already so much-”

“M’not even halfway in.” he’s hushing away your pretty cries with a line of kisses down your arched spine, finally settling to crash his lips against yours. Bare chest rippling with muscle, “You can take it. You’re my good girl, right? Gonna take my cock until you forget all about that hngh- bad day of yours?‘

It’s like clockwork the way you’re nodding so dazedly, not even sure what you even agreed to until Nanami’s pushing in proud, powerful rams of his hips. Tip so hefty, leaking so much precum down your cervix - down the corners of your sopping slit. 

“You’re so big-” you whine, ass stinging with the harsh smacks into his front. Screwing your glassy eyes shut, “S’too much, ngh-”

“Hey hey, now.” your husband tuts against your ear, the damp metal of his ring cold when he swipes softly at your cheek - refusing, for even a moment, to take off that evidence of his pure devotion to you. “Keep those gorgeous eyes of yours open, my love. Just look-.”

Coaxing those cockdrunk eyes of yours open exactly the way he always did, Nanami only smiles when your kiss-bitten lips drop into a shocked oh! 

Because fuck, it didn’t matter how many times you took him - Nanami was always so massive. So unapologetically obvious when he was inside you. Your puffy folds spread shamefully, that bulging divot of his fat head peeking out, showing you in real time exactly how harshly he was crashing against your g-spot. Bruising. Sloppy.

Over and over and-

“Takin’ me so hah- well.” You mewl at the never-ending gush of praises, every lingering thrust of Nanami’s hips increasing in pace. “Wish you could feel- how wet you are.” He’s sliding a palm down your water-slicked skin, cupping the mess made of your cunt. “-how tight. How-” Body convulsing when you feel Nanami’s wedding ring so chilly against the heated part of your clit. Being rubbed into it over and over when he’s rolling the pad of his thumb in slow, sleazy circles. “-perfect. How perfect you are f’me.”

“K-Ken-” you’re whining, and Nanami already knows what you’re about to say - of course, he does. Immediately pinning your two arms behind your back with one of his much bigger ones, holding you upright to fuck into your dripping cunt harsher. More calculated. “M’close- m’close m’so-”

“So cum f’me.” he hisses, letting your fingers dance up to tug and graze his undercut all you pleased. “Cum f’me like a good girl.”

You don’t even realize it when you do - too caught up with every crashing kiss against your bruised g-spot. Every spike of white-hot pleasure when Nanami’s massive cock massages your walls so right. Fucking you over and over through your high. 

Until all you can do is scream out his name, until all you can do is kneel there and take it while he’s absolutely ravaging your cunt - no thoughts of whatever bad day at work on your mind now, only filled with Nanami and the need for more, more, more-

Until you’re turning to hum deviously, “Your turn.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - HOURS

Times like this, Geto Suguru loved to tease you, loved to push the limits and see exactly what would make that pretty lil’ mind of yours tick. 

Times like now - when he had you laying so peacefully on top of him, your lolling head moving gently up and down with his heavy breathing, his legs dangling off the other end of the couch, eyes firmly trained on the shitty action movie playing on-screen.

It would be almost wholesome, if it wasn’t for-

“Sugu…”

Ah, there it was. 

“Yes, gorgeous?” Geto tries to hold back that dark glint in his voice. A smirk curling the edges of his strained words when you clench your clingy walls around him as a sort of punishment, shifting desperately. “Don’t like the movie?”

You’re hissing out through firmly clenched teeth, tugging on his skin-tight shirt to get your beloved boyfriend’s attention - but, alas, it doesn’t work. “The movie’s not the problem-” And lo and behold, you’re fucking your trembly hips back so deep against where he’d buried himself inside you about half an hour ago. Ass shifting on top of his heavy balls, clit throbbing on top of those neat tufts of black, your familiar movements trying to get him to massage his fat, weepy veins against your sweet spots again. “-it’s your fuckin’-”

“Ah ah, language, my girl.” he’s whispering, still not sparing your cockdrunk self a glance. Despite the way his achy head nudges in desperation against the bullseye of your g-spot in a way he knows will have you keening. Leaky divot meeting your bundle of nerves making you go insane after cockwarming him for so long. “S’jus’ getting to the best part.”

Fuck, you didn’t care - didn’t even remember the name of the movie you two were watching at this point. 

But what you did remember was the way this exact scenario played out last time - when Geto decided to really pull out and continue with the movie marathon as if nothing happened. Just the memory has your needy pussy twinging in annoyance, trying even harder to suck him up depravedly. 

And yet, all you can manage out is a few grumbles about “getting him back soon” and forcing your eyes back on the screen. Only gives occasional nudges and grinds down to nestle him cozier against your plush walls.

And you succeed.

That is, almost. 

Until it gets to that erotic scene. A hazy blinking up at Geto told you he already knew this would be in the movie, high cheekbones flushed, watching your every single reaction from the corner of his dark, dewy eyes. 

You’re teetering precariously on top of him when his achy dick twitches even harder in interest. Your slick coming down in hot oozes that soak his entire bottom half. Glistening in the light of the tv and helping you slide your sloppy pussy across his fat length. 

“Suguru…”

Full name? Damn, he was in some trouble.

But, like the absolute bully he is, Geto only lets out a low whistle. A large, soft palm coming down to knead at the fat of your ass, stretching and pulling to help you hump your pussy even deeper. “Some awful actin’, huh?” he grunts, eyes still locked on the movie. Hips stuttering up as if unconsciously - primally, “Bet we could do a whole lot better.”

But, two can play that game.

“We could.” you whine syrupy and pitched higher than normal with lust. “Such a hngh- shame, though, right?” And at his surprised look of confusion, you’re plowing on smugly, “Because you’re on a sex ban for the next month.”

The reaction is immediate - pained eyes snapping onto yours, his pretty pink lips dropping into a shocked oh! and Geto’s spouting out unabashed, “Awww, c’mon, gorgeous don’t be like that. Wasn’t serious, wasn’t—” Panic veiling his actions when you bluff moving to get off. Yet, he plays right into your hands, heavy fingers sitting you back down on his cock to meet in a shallow thrust, molding at your elastic walls. Claiming, “-as if I’d ever deny you, gorgeous.”

And you can’t get another word out before he’s steadily using all those hours at the gym to his advantage to bounce you along his lap in a steady fucking. Slamming right up to where your pussy lips smashed into his hip bone.

“You’re so weak, Sugu–”

Hell, so what if he was the one that broke first? 

Oh, he can’t deny though, the way just how needy you were - how you were pouting up at him with those sultry, beautiful eyes of yours to “just fuck me right” - has him throbbing achingly inside your heavenly walls. Stretching out that gummy channel to its limits, until you could feel every ridge and curve along his massive length. 

“Mhm, m’weak.” Geto rasps, arms tightening around your waist to hover your entire body up. “But- only for you- ngh, only for-” And he’s barely even stuttering his hypnotic cadence before spreading his legs firmer, moving his quick, bullying thrusts enlarging your filthy hole. Geto’s abs burning, thighs straining. “-you n’ this pretty cunt, y’know.” Like a - very overdue - little apology for toying with you so much, one of his deft hands dip down to roll and tweak your puffy clit between two slender fingers. Promising. Faster. Flashing a look in your eyes that told you he was about to make it so you couldn’t walk for a week, at least. “So you better not think of hah- something stupid like a sex ban.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 13 min.

Choso couldn’t tear his greedy gaze away, couldn’t stop aching for more and more of that delicious stretch of your gummy walls around him. Feeling so lecherous with every beat of silence spent devouring the pretty sight of you. 

The way you were splayed out like such a slut for him on your once-fresh satin sheets, bent into such a mean mating press he didn’t think himself capable of. Laying your boneless body out in that obscene pool of cum and slick, only spreading farther and farther with each twitch of his poor, overstimulated balls. 

“Ch-Cho!” your honeyed, broken gasp him blinking back those big fat tears of sensitivity. And fuck he swears he could feel that lewd slosh of his seed coating against your gummy walls in a sticky sheen. “Cho, why are you- ngh! Getting hard again? It’s only been about ten minutes-”

That has him looking down in surprise, ravaged raw lips falling into a fucked-out oh! at that sight of your puffy folds being spread further and further with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his achy cock. Bulging. Slobbering down your slit to coat him all glistening and ready to slide in again. 

“One more. Had enough of waitin’ around.” Choso rasps, words slurring out so quiet that you almost think you imagined it. “O-one more time, baby–”

He’s leaving no room for you to answer - for you to even think, to breathe before giving your sopping wet cunt an experimental thrust. Dewy eyes falling half-lidded and dangerous when he watches the way his cum gushes down your thighs in warm dredges at the simple gesture. 

“I thought-” your nails rake down his toned back to leave red, angry lines of pleasure. “I thought you said we were jus’ gonna hah- cockwarm right now, Cho? To make sure it takes?”

And it was true, he wanted to make sure you don’t waste a drop of his seed, to have you painted white with him for as long as he possibly could - well, maybe partially out of your boyfriend’s own perverted desire. But, really, what’s the harm in a little self-indulgence?

“Please! Please I know I know, baby.” he’s pleading. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss the glossy pout of your candied lips so soothingly - missing, a few times with how utterly wrecked you had him. “But you can hngh- take one more, right? Just one more, f’me? Please?”

One more - he’s whispering out that little manta over and over with each gifting, filthy crash against your g-spot. Fat tip so soaked with all the mess of your juices that it slides a thorough line right across your bruised cervix. That makes you keen, it makes you cry, it makes you just arch your back off the mattress to push you even deeper down Choso’s swollen cock. 

You mewl when he’s licking a long, languid stripe up the sultry teartracks down your cheeks, “Yes, but- but Cho you should rest-”

As if that would stop him - not when every shred of his sanity is dancing away from him to the smooth staccato of his rolling hips. 

Choso hisses when his bruised lips are crashing against yours, entire body jolting because the sheer stimulation after only this long since cumming is driving him insane. Too much. 

You buck your hips wildly when he’s angling his toned pelvis just right to smack that divot on his thick head onto your already-raw sensitive spots. Convulsing uncontrollably to let out a few wispy globs of cum that fill you up from the bottom of your pussy - an orgasm you don’t think Choso even realizes. “F-fuck- did you just-”

The pool grows even wider.

“Yes- no.” he gasps, before immediately reeling his hips back and forth again like a man starved. “Maybe. But one more- just one more, baby. Please.” Your sloppy make out is now tinged with the salty taste of tears - both yours and his. Because with each slow, cautious drag of his cock marking your elastic walls, a fresh wave of sensitivity hits him. “Please- wanna cum. Need to cum. Please please please one more- please.”

He didn’t know who he was begging at this point - you or him. Holding such a vice-like grip on the easy curve of your hips to keep you from running away while he fucks you into the mattress for the nth time tonight. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck can feel you in so deep.” you murmur hazily, bringing a hand up to draw an invisible line around the middle of your stomach. “Can feel you right in here-”

“Oh yeah? That so?” he’s smirking uncharacteristically. “Soon ‘nough m’gonna have you hngh filled all the way up until-” He drags a thick, lazy index finger of his right up the sensitive bud of your clit. Up, up, up to wrap a large palm at your throat, “-here.”

And you can’t help but think he looks so pretty - so absolutely wrecked with his dark hair untied, sticking in stray strands to his forehead. Flushed to the absolute roots from the apples of his cheekbones, his droopy eyes. Biceps bulging out attractively when he squeezes around your racing pulse. 

Somehow, you manage to choke out, “Do it then.”

That’s all it takes for your poor, absolutely ruined boyfriend to cum. Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop. 

Greedy gaze falling shut so sensually when your gummy walls squeeze the soul out of him, drinking up every single rope after rope of his hot seed. Sticky, oozing globs that thin out into nothing but blanks - and he’s still fucking your heavenly cunt through his high. 

Still in the throes of his orgasm when he whispers, “Baby- my baby, are we really sure it took?” Fingers squeezing tighter around your gasping throat, “Maybe we should try one more time.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Honestly? 1 hour 26 min.

“Hngh-” you’re hiccuping, the front of your drenched panties leaving a lewd smear of glossy slick all over Sukuna’s abs. Dragging out his name in such a honeyed, needy whine, “Sukuna—”

With a growl, he’s gripping a fistful of your ass, holding your squirming hips so flush against his toned pelvis that he could feel every minute quiver of your puffy pussy lips. Every new bead of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down his front and onto the sobbing cock stuffed still inside your gripping cunt, “What, woman?”

You’re gifting him with a pouty kiss, the kind he’d never admit makes his painfully tight balls squeeze in depravity, “Don’t hafta be so mean.”

“M’not.” he grumbles, and yet gifts the mound of your cunt with a sharp smack! of his large palm. Soothing over the burning brand, “S’jus’ that someone decided to- hngh-” Muscled pecs rumbling with the memory from just a few hours ago, “-make me miss my morning meeting by being such a slut, hm? Just crying to ‘feel, tha’s enough.’”

That work meeting was long done now, having finished about half an hour ago from what he could spy from that clock across your bedroom. Doesn’t matter, as CEO he could miss all the fucking meetings he wanted - having a softer spot for you than anyone, anything. 

But that didn’t mean he’d stop teasing you - toying with you until you were begging for twice as long as that meeting was supposed to last.

“So, really-” his voice cuts through those needy little grinds of your hips. Mindless, slow - trying not to draw attention to yourself as you rocked yourself slowly up and down Sukuna’s fat hilt. Caught red-handed, it’s all you can do to squeal when he’s digging those long, black nails into your heated skin, holding you so agonizingly still. “-m’jus’ doing exactly what you asked, brat.”

The way you kick and wrangle your legs have him leering even wider, “What? Heh, got a problem with that?”

“Yes!” you’re keening, tightening your legs around his waist until you could feel the balls of your feet digging into the tiny dimples at the back of his spine. “Wan’ed you to ngh- fuck me- not- not-”

His tip is swiping across every inch of your sweet spot, pressing in so hard but doing nothing about it. Teasing you with such feral twitches against your tight channel, “You jus’ wanted me inside you n’ this cockwarming s’all you’re gonna get.” 

“Please?”

This earns you another rough slap on your bulging pussy, the pads of Sukuna’s five fingers branding onto your stretched-out swollen folds. Lingering a bit too long around your neglected clit. Assessing. 

And, suddenly, you know it means that smug façade of his is crumbling bit by bit - right along with his sanity. Gruffing out a ragged, “I said-”

And then you squeeze - oh, you’re clamping down your snug walls in such a way that has Sukuna cutting himself off with a throaty moan. The greedy gaze of his darkened red eyes flying open, head thrown back when his hips traitorously buck into you.

“Fuck- fuck, you little minx.” he spits into the soft kiss you’re planting on his lips. Glaring at you despite the way his weepy tip coats your cunt in an appreciative glossy sheen, “You think you’re sooo fuckin’ slick, huh? You think you hah- won this? M’still not movin’, woman.”

Batting your lashes up so deceivingly innocently, “I have no idea what you mean, Kuna–” 

Shit, the syrupy sweet sound of that sinful nickname sends wracking shudders all down Sukuna’s hulking body. Biting his lower lip to hold back a raspy moan, “Don’t.”

You’re only pressing your bare chest against his even closer, draping yourself all over like a second skin. Blowing a feverish puff of hot air down his steadily reddening ears, “I have no-” Pressing a chaste peck right at his cheek, his forehead. “-idea-” On the edge of his pink locks - exactly where you knew he loved but would never ever tell you. “-what you mean-” Before finishing off with the final blow, to thumb open his angry mouth. Eyeing in amusement at how easily he’s letting his tongue loll out already - pussydrunk and all ready for you to spit a steady glob of saliva once. Twice. Wiping off those intentional splatters at the corner of those pretty pink lips, “-Kuna.”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ regret this.”

As if to prove his point, Sukuna is immediately pulling out - taking only a split second to flip you over to press your back against his broad chest. The bed creaks in protest as he sheaths himself inside your gooey cunt in one, harsh thrust. 

All of it - making sure you swallow every thick inch by fucking inch of that same cock you’ve been begging for all morning. He doesn’t waste a second before spreading his knees to smack those sharp hip bones against yours again. Doesn’t even wait for you to adjust. 

“You’re such a slut when you- hah- beg f’me, y’know that. Don’t know why you bother with that good girl act but-” Slap! For a moment, you wonder whether he smacked you - only to realize it’s the sheer power of his thrusts. Unforgiving, long drags in and out to fill you up in places you didn’t even know existed, bruising your flesh. “-at least I ngh- get to bring out the nasty bitch in you.”

Fucking you so relentles now. Your brain’s too fuzzy to even call him out on his little insult, managing out only choked up, “F-fuck you’re so- s’too good- Kuna.”

Those moans have him drunk, one set of thick fingers reeling you in by your pretty throat. So thankful he chose this position, because now he gets to fully let the ecstasy take over his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, face tinted a delicate pink, so fucking hot where he buries his face into the crook of your neck. 

“J-just shut up and take it, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 2 min. (and 15 seconds!)

“F-fuck-” he breathes out unsteadily. Blue eyes falling shut as he throws his head back in pleasure, and his lips have that freshly-kissed look to them when he’s groaning. “Fuuuck, m’sorry m’sorry. You’re gonna be the hngh- fuckin’ death of me, sweetheart.”

Now, the great Gojo Satoru already had an inkling about this fact by the time you’d caught him rifling through that batch of chocolates you’d been saving up for a week. Brows furrowed, foot tapping in anger. Whoopsies. 

And he already knew it’d be true when you’d shoved him down on the nearby couch and scolded him in that stern, sexy voice of yours that went straight to his aching dick. Toying with your glistening pussy while you straddled his toned lap, telling him to dare not move “or else.”

And fuck, he swear he saw the gates of heaven open up right then and there when you actually took him. 

But shit, now, Gojo didn’t consider himself a weak man - far from it, actually, he was the strongest and he knew it. And yet he’s never felt so utterly fucking helpless with his throbbing cock enveloped deep in your cunt where he couldn’t see, freshly leaky, angry tip hitting down that familiar path to your g-spot. But staying there. 

Unmoving.

So fucking agonizing that even you’re noticing the twitch of Gojo’s fingers on the plush of your hips, the way his jaw is clenching so tight. Raising an amused brow, “Toru?”

“Y-yes?” he yelps, voice a few octaves higher than normal. Jolting - and the movement is enough to cause a slight shift inside your dripping wet pussy. Tremors running down his spine at that sinful little taste of what he’s been craving so badly.

“Toru, you’re already such a mess.” you manage to giggle, purposefully grinding down in smooth gyrations that have his fat head drawing wet circles over and over around your sweet spots. “N’ I just put it in.”

“No!” Gojo’s whining hotly, big fat tears of sheer need pricking at his eyes. “No no no s’been more than long enough-” Gliding two large, pale hands to smooth over the globes of your ass, groping you to shove even more of his angry inches into your swallowing pussy. Ragged breaths coming out in gusts, “-please. Please.”

His words are breaking so sluttily at the end, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his pale throat when he’s lifting his impatient hips off of the couch - once. Twice. Desperately searching for some friction.

“Satoru, if you can’t handle cockwarming for more than two minutes…”

“Please!” And he looks so pretty begging like this, gasping out wet pleas into your open mouth. “I’ve hah- l-learned my lesson, my girl. Don’t hold out on me now.” Powerful hips stuttering up like he was hesitant on pissing you off any more. “Said m’sorry- see?”

You whirling to look down at where Gojo was lolling his head down in such a pussydrunk way, only to be met with the lewd sight of your snug cunt being split apart by his massive cock. Glossy lips spread, bulging - struggling with the effort to accommodate his girthy, pulsing shaft. The stretch.

The sight is something that makes you squeeze your clingy walls to take the shape of him - so tight that Gojo swears he could feel his breath being cut off. 

He hisses, words coming out so pained. Eyes half-lidded in wonderment at the way that tiny hole of yours gets stretched so obscenely around his thick hilt. “Ohh, fuck yeah. Thought you’d like that- yeah- yeah, just like that.” And you’re barely getting the chance to brace yourself before his hips are bucking up wildly. Like he was out of control - like he didn’t even know what he was doing right now. “S-sorry, said m’sorry. Fuck, m’sorry- sooo fuckin– sorry.”

Every breathy apology is punctuated by a heavy thrust, now fully forgetting that little punishment of his. IMean now. Pushing past that feeble resistance to fuck you all the way till you could feel that upwards curve of his dick branding against your cervix, your lungs. Over and over and- 

“Hngh- ah, Toru!” you’re squealing when he dances a long hand down to rub over your pretty clit. Soft palms wet with a gloss of your slick with each tight circle. Again. And again and again and- “Y-you’re still not forgiven, y’know.”

It wasn’t very convincing - not when your greedy hips are limply bucking down to try and meet his rough cadence. 

“I know.” he grits. “I know I know- fuck, I know.” Spitting straight into your sagging open mouth, he’s swiping at the lewd mess, “N’ I’ll buy ya more- buy ya the hngh- whole fuckin’ ch-chocolate store if you want.” Heavy balls smacking against your ass, pushing in powerful rams of his tip into your g-spot. Rambling drunkenly to himself now, “Just wanna- wanna-”  Tears of sensitivity are streaming down his face now, as wet as the mess he was making of your poor pussy. And it takes only a few anticipated, purposeful thrusts before- “-cum.”

You barely have the time to even register those thick, hot globs f cum being stuffed into the very bottom of your pussy. Filling you up with Gojo’s sin when he’s throwing his head back to moan, hips bucking up, up, up to paint your deep core white. 

“No no no no- no-”  he’s babbling, still shooting up sticky streams of seed inside you. Fingers so erratic on your cunt now,  Back arching up off the cushions to ram into you like some little ragdoll, from the very tip of his goading cock. “You have to cum- need you to cum, sweetheart.”

You’re just milking him, clinging onto him so tight it’s hard to crash his ruddied, sobbing tip even harder into your g-spot. 

It’s almost like he’s forcing it out of you, wrenching out a hazy orgasm where you’re seeing stars behind your eyes. A loud whine of your boyfriend’s name leaving your swollen lips when he’s fucking you through peak after peak-

“Is this a good time to tell ya I ate those leftovers you were savin’ up, too, or do I hafta beg for forgiveness again?”

“...”

A/N. Listen, I know that Sukuna would be a TYRANT CEO but it’s for the aesthetic ok.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[dmitriene]

tf141 as a delivery company, all four boys working so good that all people around you buzz with praises towards them, saying that if you search for someone to help you with some furniture to the new home, you should immediately select their company, and since you just moved to the neighborhood, why not.

it's johnny who you meet first, he's delivering a new bed, because the house is completely empty, and sleeping on the floor is not your best choice, so ordering a bed was a first and most important option, while the other furniture was on it's way.

the first thing you notice is his baby blue eyes, bright pebbles that shine in the morning sun when you greet him, slightly disheveled and dressed in some ordinary pajamas, too sleepy to notice the way johnny's gaze trails down your body and round curves, until asking where you need the bed, bonnie, because he's sure you won't be able to place it yourself.

johnny wonders if you'll let him suck at your cunt as a payment, thoughts clouded with how you'll could have looked sprawled on this new bed, scrabbling at his messy mohawk, mattress stained with a puddle of your syrupy slick and his drool, writhing prettily with your sleeping shorts dangling at your ankle.

too pretty for your own good, especially when you flash him a beaming smile on his way out, thanking him for his work with flattering tone of voice, and johnny glad you can't see the heavy boner between his legs, hidden beneath the baggy fabric of his working pants, staining his boxers with sticky precum.

then you meet kyle, prettiest boy you've ever seen, fitting to be a model rather than delivery guy, holding a heavy box with bedside table in his hands, honeyed eyes crinkling in bright smile when he asks you where he can place it, since you zoned on his face for too long, and unbeknownst to you, it got him much flustered.

he's a sunshine, a golden boy with how fast he works with his veiny hands, saying that you'll give him less than an hour and the table would be ready for you to use, still wearing a warm smile that makes you melt, nodding dumbly, just watching how kyle works, all but focused on the task in front of him, brows creasing.

his shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of his lower back, skin smooth, and it's you who wonders about having fun with him, propped on his lap, toying with his most likely lengthy cock, all wet for you, imagining if he would let you play with him, or he'll flip you up and rearrange your glossy cunt till you're dumb.

kyle leaves you with a new furniture for a less than thirty minutes and winking at you when he stands at the doorway, leaning aside on his hip, saying that if you'll need more help, you know where to find him, and his name as well, and this leaves you with suddenly sodden panties and unspoken fantasies.

at the end, you meet simon and john, two bulky men that helped you with your new couch, a big thing that is better than the old, dusty one, and indeed worth of having two big men inside your house, crouched on the floor to settle the furniture up, telling you to not worry about a single thing, lass.

simon is more silent, efficient at his work and seems brooding, but his dark gaze softens everytime he meets your eyes as you check up on them, his hand caressing the small of your back briefly, just after john patted you there in reassurance, too close to the swell of your ass, murmuring that it's their work and you don't have to try and stick up to help in your own house.

cerulean eyes soothingly cold, with comforting smile hiding beneath his facial hair everytime your fingers touch, making you shudder briefly, almost praying so they'll won't notice how you eye them, how your cheeks tingle, but they both do.

wondering how you'll look seated on this plush couch, stripped bare and stretched around john's fat cock, with simon's throbbing girth down your tight little throat, an obedient housewife for them, sweet darling that could help them relieve after hard work, and perhaps, since you're living all alone, they could make you theirs.

it's the moment all of the boys are out on the weekends evening in some town pub, drinking glass after glass of warming, tart liquid, when johnny breaks up in slurring about what a cutie he meet when delivering some really big bed, and when kyle joined next, and then simon, john's eyes squinting as he strokes at his mutton chops, your appearance coming up like pieces of puzzles through their talk, everything fell into place.

all along, they were dreaming of the same bird, in the same house in a small neighborhood, sweet darling with giddy smiles and too longing gazes, and since they're such a good team, why won't they're help you a bit more this time, one for one.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[pathologicalreid]

shelter from the storm | s.r.

in which your son comes to your room in the middle of the night seeking the safety of his father's arms.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: fear of storms, spencer reid dilf agenda, boy dad!spencer word count: 1.07k a/n: need to give this man a baby immediately oh my god it's so bad the voices

Spencer woke up first; the very first hint of a rumble caused his eyes to flutter open before he even heard the patting of the rain on the window. He glanced at the clock, only for it to read just past two in the morning, grabbed his glasses from the nightstand, and tried to nudge you awake.

He was a much lighter sleeper than you; years of being conditioned to wake up to the slightest vibration of a phone had caused that. While he’d gotten over his own fear of storms, Spencer always kept an eye out for them, knowing it was a trait that your toddler had acquired.

“Hmm?” You responded to his nudge, stuck between being asleep and being awake. With your eyes open only slightly, you saw the flash of lightning peek in through the blinds and immediately sat up. “Jamie?” You whispered your son’s name while Spencer flicked on the lamp on his bedside table.

The two of you shared a knowing look when you heard the pattering of bare feet on the hardwood floor. You left your bedroom door open just a crack, so all he needed to do was push the door open and peek his head inside. “Mama?” He whimpered just as softly as you’d whispered his name.

Jamie’s glasses were crooked on his face, thick black frames that surrounded his brown eyes. Sometimes, when Spencer looked at his son, it felt like he was looking at a reflection of his past—something he’d never experienced until he was born. Jamie clutched a stuffed teddy bear in his hand, wearing matching glasses you’d affixed to the animal so the two of them could match.

As soon as your three-year-old saw his parents sitting up in bed, his little face crumpled in relief. “Daddy,” he called this time, and before he knew it himself, Spencer was getting out of bed to gather his son in his arms.

“Hey, lovey,” Spencer cooed, crouching so he could pick Jamie up, adjusting the way the stuffed bear—named Garcia, after his godmother, and affectionately nicknamed Bearcia—rested so no one was being crushed. “It’s raining really hard out there, huh?”

Wrapping his arms tightly around his father’s neck, Jamie held on while he was brought over to the bed. Once he was within reach, you rested a gentle hand on his back but made no move to take him into your arms. Knowing that he could comfort his son when he was scared reassured Spencer; it told him he was a good dad. He never would have gone to his own father for protection, and that’s all he’d ever wanted to be as a dad—dependable, protective.

You hushed Jamie when thunder cracked again, “Oh, my poor baby.” Moving over on the mattress to rest your head on your husband, giving you the range to press a soft kiss on your son’s forehead.

The feeling of tears as they seeped through Spencer’s t-shirt broke his heart; it almost made him wish he could control the weather to his benefit. Instead of forbidding the storm, he craned his head back to meet Jamie’s red-rimmed eyes, “’s okay to be scared,” he assured him.

Jamie squeezed his teddy bear for comfort and looked at your bedroom window; the blinds were still closed to prevent the eventual morning light from getting in. The toddler mumbled something unintelligible about the rain before sniffling. He used the sleeve of his dinosaur footie pajamas to wipe his face before resting his head against his father.

Getting up from the bed, Spencer walked Jamie over to the window and opened the blinds so he could see the rain, hoping that taking the mystery of the storm away would take away some of the fear. “When the lightning goes again, if we count the seconds until the thunder goes, we’ll know how far away the storm is,” he explained to Jamie, smoothing the toddler’s hair from his forehead and swaying gently while they waited for the flash of light.

“Woah,” Jamie breathed when the lightning struck, childlike wonder lighting up his features while Spencer started counting. “Two,” Jamie joined softly, “Three, four, five, oh!”

Thunder rumbled, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile to himself when Jamie curled into his side for safety. “We counted five, and if we divide by five, that means the storm is one whole mile away.” He didn’t expect the three-year-old to understand the mathematics, but he knew Jamie liked to have things explained to him.

At some point, you’d crept out of the room, and Spencer didn’t notice until you were tiptoeing back in, holding Jamie’s blankie and setting it in the middle of your shared bed. “One,” Jamie started counting on his own at the next flash of lightning, “two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!” This time, he smiled proudly up at his father when he finished counting, “More!”

Spencer nodded before closing the blinds once more. "That’s right; it means the storm is moving further away from the house.” He brought Jamie back to the bed, laying him down on his blankie with Bearcia in his tiny clutches. “Now we have to go back to sleep, and the storm will be all gone by the time we wake up.”

“Promise?” Jamie asked, big, brown eyes stared up at his dad as he sought reassurance.

He knew he might’ve been putting too much faith in the meteorologists, but nonetheless, Spencer nodded, “I promise.” He carefully took Jamie’s glasses off, setting them on his bedside table and turning on the nightlight you kept in there for nights like these.

Jamie settled into the big bed and cuddled his bear close. “Love you, daddy.”

A two in the morning wakeup call didn’t seem so bad when it ended like this. He finally found his way back to bed, pulling the covers over you and your baby, and once he took off his glasses and turned off the big lamp, Jamie curled into his side, resting his head on Spencer’s shoulder.

You poked your head up from your pillow, your smile glowing under the soft nightlight. Spencer could almost hear what you were thinking, imagining your voice as you cooed My boys.

Silently, so as not to disturb Jamie, Spencer mouthed I love you.

In response, you leaned over to press a goodnight kiss to his lips, and to Spencer, it was the same thing.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

summary: you warm Logan’s cock while he smokes.

pairing: Logan Howlett x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. cock warming. grinding. Logan smoking. unbeta'd. w.c: 637

an: just a little something to clear my mind. i’m a whore for Logan and his cigars 🙃

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Give me a light, Sugar." Logan murmurs, placing the fresh, unlit cigar between his lips.

He leans against the headboard of his bed with a ragged sigh and wraps his hands around your waist, balancing you on his lap. "Careful now," he hisses as your cunt swirls around his cock. Logan always insisted on keeping you stuffed full of his cock after sex, something about making it stick, even though you both knew it was impossible to conceive. "Don' wanna spill and make a mess now, do ya?"

You roll your eyes and reach for the silver lighter he chucked on the bedside table before he took you to bed. His warm, brute hands keep you steady as you grasp the silver rectangle and right yourself on his lap. You drink down his playful gaze; his dark eyes glint with mischief as he tongues the cigar side to side.

You flick the wheel, igniting a luminous golden flame. Logan's features look sinister under the dancing tint as the earthy tobacco cracks and sizzles while you light the head. He takes a slow drag; smoke fills his lungs before spilling between his lips and swirling up toward the ceiling.

The searing red ember mocks you like your cunt isn't burning just as hot as it's stretched around Logan's girth while he enjoys a cigar after fucking you into his mattress.

He curses on the second drag when your body trembles in his lap. The tight rim of your cunt clutches the thick base of his cock; slick drooling down and coating his heavy sac.

"Y'sure like watchin' me smoke, huh, bub." he rumbles, rolling the cigar to the corner of his mouth. Wisps of smoke rise and swirl as you slowly grind your hips and demurely nod. "That'a girl."

You rest your hands on his burly shoulders, fingers digging into the dense muscle as you indulge in the scorching ache that's settled between your thighs. The dark, wiry hairs that litter the base of his cock rub roughly against your swollen clit, the extra pressure heightening your bliss as the bulbous head cruelly kisses the deepest part of you.

"Yeah, that's it. Take what you need." Logan praises, hands tightening around your waist, moving in tandem with your frantic grinds as you chase the overwhelming pleasure blossoming in your belly once again.

Logan weaves a hand around the back of your neck and presses your forehead to his. His fiery eyes, all-consuming, bore into your own. It's close, too close. So, intimate and intoxicating, but so is Logan.

The smoke from his cigar makes your eyes water and suffocates your airways, but he doesn't grant you solace. "You're stayin' right here. You ain't leavin' 'til you come."

Your pitiful sob does nothing but spur him on.

He callously digs his fingers into your curves, forcing you to keep the steady grind of back and forth, back and forth, until you gasp his name and cry out into the dimly lit room for him.

A deep growl rumbles his chest, his own pleasure racing to the forefront of his mind as your cunt quivers around his length. Your orgasm ripples through you, swirling and milking Logan's cock, as his hips rise off the bed and he spills inside you for the second time that evening.

You collapse with a tired sigh against his chest, his cock still nestled in your warmth as your heartbeat slows to its natural rhythm. He lazily drags his fingers up the column of your spine while puffing on his cigar. "Looks like I'll always have to keep a pack'a cigars on me." He teasingly chuckles.

"When don't you have a pack of cigars on you?" you quip, yanking on his chest hair.

He quirks his brow, agreeing with a sly grin. "You're right."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[yandere-daydreams]

exhibit #4 - tickling.

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!dick grayson x reader (dc).

length: 1.6k.

warnings: non/con touching, mentions of kidnapping, explicit disregard of consent, tickling, prolonged captivity, and obsessive/delusional behavior. dead dove: do not eat.

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this position.

Being held in an underground facility for an indeterminable amount of time, you were starting to grapple with. It helped to think of it as a kind of witness protection program – the city’s ever-expanding network of criminals wanted you dead and buried, Gotham’s most prolific gang of vigilantes wanted you alive and able to provide testimony at an upcoming trial, and the best place to keep you in the meantime was one of the many tucked-away safe-havens they apparently had, where only the damp chill and occasional lost sewer rat would be able to find you. It wasn’t that bad. Your temporary living space was more similar to a high-end apartment than a war bunker, and someone was almost always around to keep you company (even if you could survive without the taller, angsty-er Robin’s board games).  If there’d been a few more windows, you might’ve been able to get used to it. You were still looking forward to getting home, of course, but you knew why you were here.

How you’d ended up tucked against Nightwing’s chest, his arms locked around your midriff and his face buried in the back of your shoulder was… less comprehensible.

‘Bonding time’, he called it. There was a movie playing in the background – some b-rated flick meant to make you scream and flinch and melt further into him – and he’d cornered you in the bedroom, insisted that both of you would be more than comfortable on your twin-sized mattress. Of all the bats, he was the most determined to treat you more like a little sibling than an endangered civilian. Part of it (most of it, even) was guilt. He’d been the one to find you in the back of that big, white van; the one to suggest putting you into hiding to the others. Of course he wanted to make you feel comfortable. If you didn’t, he would be the reason why.

You just wished his bids for your forgiveness were a little less tactile.

The leading lady let out a cartoonishly high-pitched scream as the killer’s axe broke through the ridiculously thin door of her bathroom, and you felt Nightwing’s hand flatten against your stomach, prepared for you to startle and shrink, ready to draw you closer at the first sign of a reaction. It took everything you had not to roll your eyes. A shirt that read ‘Sorry I got you sort of kidnapped, please tell me I’m a good hero!’ would’ve been more subtle.

Sighing, you started to push yourself up. He was quick to stop you, of course, drawing back without loosening his grip. “Going somewhere?”

“Mhm. I just need to—” A half-eaten bowl of popcorn sat on your bedside table, an untouched glass of water next to it. You could say you needed to use the bathroom, but you’d already used that excuse, too. Less than ten minutes ago, in fact. “—stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a second.”

He hummed, one of his hands falling to your side, where your oversized shirt had ridden up to expose skin. “If you’re feeling restless, you can say so. I’ll talk to B about moving some gym equipment in – let you burn off some steam while I’m gone.” He paused, laughed. “Or I could be your personal trainer. Promise I’ll go easy on you n’ everything.”

Your tense smile faltered. Great.Then he’d have yet another reason to put his hands on you. “Mr. Nightwing, sir, I’m really just—”

“I’ve told you,” he cut in, tone light and saccharine and so incredibly grating. “You can call me Dick.”

“I really don’t think I should know your real—”

“I don’t mind. It’s only fair, since I know yours.”

“That’s different.” It really wasn’t. You hadn’t wanted him to know yours, either. “I’m sorry, but I really just need a couple of minutes to—”

Again, you tried to pull away, and again, he stopped you. This time, though, the effort was hasty, sloppy, and his fingertips brushed against the tender skin just above your hip in just the wrong way. Before you could swallow it back, an airy giggling slipped past your lips – more reflex than anything. Immediately, you stopped moving, and Dick did the same – his hand clamping down around your waist.

You tried to speak, but he was faster, his delight blatant enough to be audible. “You’re ticklish?”

“I’m not.” And then, more defensively, “It hurts and I hate it.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t let you go, either. His hold on you shifted, one arm wrapping around your diaphragm while skirting his freehand along your lower stomach, his touch nearly too light to be felt. Your reaction was instantaneous, humiliatingly so. A crooked smile, a fractured laugh followed shortly by an awkward, painful wheezing sound. You threw your elbow into his chest, but he ignored you, only nuzzling into the nape of your neck. “Yeah, I can tell how much you hate it.”

He was practically dripping with that self-congratulatory, faux-sympathetic confidence. You grit your teeth, biting back a comment about Gotham’s heroes and their faulty sense of mortality, but it was a waste of breath. He was already moving onto his next target – the inside of your thighs, clamped shut as soon as his hand started veering in that direction. That didn’t matter. All it took was the pads of his fingertips grazing over that hyper-sensitive junction for you to lose your composure, kicking out blindly as you coughed up a sound that swung closer to death gasps than laughter.

Dick didn’t seem to mind. When he laughed, it was light, chiming, genuine. He propped his chin on your shoulder, watching your expression as his hands moved over your stomach, your sides, your midriff. “It’s cute,” he muttered, only half-focused on what he was saying. Most of his attention was dedicated to touching you, tickling you, making sure you didn’t have time to breath in-between thrashing fits – let alone resist. “And it’s good to see you lighten up. I don’t think you’ve smiled since the day we met.” Your recollection was swift, spotty. Darkness, adrenaline, terror, and then, relief, light, a smiling face. You couldn’t remember anything beyond that, not beyond what’d been told to you later on. You couldn’t remember whether you’d been happy to find yourself in Dick’s arms, or devastated that you were still being held at all. “You could afford to let your guard down a little, you know. It’s not like any bad guys are gonna be able to find you here – not with me looking out for you.”

 “I don’t—” It was awful, not being able to spit out a coherent string of words without your own dysfunctional body cutting you off. It was awful, knowing he wouldn’t listen even if you could. “I’m not afraid of any—”

“Of course you aren’t. Not when I’m here to keep you safe.” His voice had taken on a strange drawl, blurring around the edges. You felt him shift against your back, his hands leaving your body for one merciful second before finding your shoulders and jerking you onto your back, the motion forceful enough to knock the air out of your lungs. You were never going to get used to it; the freakish strength, the inhuman speed, the bizarre flexibility that meant he was on top of you long before you’d had the chance to catch your breath. His knees dug into the mattress on either side of your waist, his hips slotted against yours. Against your will, you felt something stiff and warm press into your lower stomach, and choose not to put a name to it.

Your chest throbbed, like it was at risk of splitting open. Your body ached, too little oxygen in too many placed, and it took you seconds to remember how to make any sound other than short, pitchy whines. Dick took it all in from above, only partially cast in shadow. Unlike the others, he never wore his mask around you – something about ‘letting his guard down’ or ‘proving you can trust him’, you were sure. Still, you wished he cared more about his secret identity. Even blank anonymity would’ve been better than being able to make out the deep, scarlet blush spread over his cheeks as he loomed over you, to recognize the raggedness of his own breathing and force yourself not to acknowledge why he seemed so strained.

“You’re not smiling.” It was true. You weren’t. Your expression had fallen into a distinct, pathetic grimace – only a touch less strained than the alternative. “Are you going to fix that, or do you need my help?”

In your own defense, you tried. You did your best to force it, to contort your lips into something that could pass for an easy smile, but whatever mangled offering you managed to pull together wasn’t up to Dick’s standards. He sighed, bowing his head and raising his hands. For a brief, terrible second, you pictured his fingers curled around your throat, your body convulsing as you suffocated, but his intentions were elsewhere. The hem of your shirt was caught and drawn up to your chin, far past anything that could ever be considered appropriate. You felt his fingertips drag over the curve of your rip cage once, twice before it kicked in – a searing, full-body laugh tearing out of your chest while you thrashed, your back arching and your hips inadvertently crashing against his. Immediately, Dick buckled – falling against you, hiding his face in your shirt. A second later, you felt something damp start to soak into your shorts, so hot it could’ve burnt.

The minutes passed, but Dick didn’t move, content to keep his body pressed into yours. Teary-eyed and dizzy, you let your head roll to the side, staring blankly at the television just as the credits started to roll.

At least he couldn’t keep you here forever, right?

[crushmeeren]

⇢ ⇢ eijirou art by nikkiyan

࿐ part one of incubus week! eijirou is up first! kenma’s will probably be out later in the week. if the pacing in this is too fast, i apologize, i really tried to make it flow well. anywho, please enjoy! ⋆ ☆૮꒰•༝ •。꒱ა ⋆ ⇢ ⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐light bondage, choking, size kink, biting/marking, rough sex, squirting, praise kink.

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Boys fucking suck. Especially when it comes to sex. When you come across a forum of other women who have dealt with this problem, the word incubus catches your eye. After spiraling down a rabbit hole of what and how to obtain your own incubus, you think you’re getting a demon who’s dark and mysterious who can satisfy you. You end up with a demon that has the sun shining out of his ass. Although, he still ends up being way more than satisfying.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

“Thanks babe, that was great.”

Irritation gathers hotly in your chest. You plaster on a fake smile, that’s more of a grimace than anything, and don’t bother responding as you tug your leggings back on. The man you chose for your one night stand is 100% a dud.

Nothing out of the ordinary there.

You grab your discarded sweatshirt and slip it back on, rising from the lumpy, extremely uncomfortable twin mattress. Really, you should’ve known from the scratchy sheets alone how this evening would turn out.

“I’m going to go ahead and go home,” you say evenly, scanning the room to search for your keys and shoes. You spot the keys on the bedside table, swiftly snatching them and stepping into your shoes.

The bed creaks behind you as the random man sits up. “Wait! Aren’t you going to stay the night? Didn’t you enjoy yourself baby?” His arrogant tone has you itching to punch his lights out, and to be honest you can’t even remember his name. He’s that fucking forgettable.

A snort of disbelief rings out that you don’t even bother trying to stop and your temper flares. Whipping around, you level this loser with an unimpressed look.

“Hate to break it to you, babe,” you sneer. “But let’s get something straight. Not once did I get anywhere close to cumming, and let’s not forget that you’re a two pump chump. I know you said you’re a “grower not a show-er,” but the only thing your dick grew into was a pencil. You can delete my number.”

He’s too stunned to respond, face turning bright red as you roll your eyes. The bedroom door slams shut behind you as you exit. The thought of spending one more second in that fuckers presence makes your jaw clench tight, and then your speed walking down the hallway and awkwardly locking eyes with the roommate lounging on the couch.

You both nod to each other once in acknowledgment before you’re rushing out the front door. You practically sprint down the driveway, slipping into your car and shutting the door with enough force to shake the frame.

Your forehead thumps onto the steering wheel, cheeks puffing out with an exasperated sigh before you lean back into the seat, pressing your palms to your eyes.

Every single time you hook up with someone new, it’s so bad that you’ve seriously considered saying fuck it and becoming celibate for the rest of your miserable, unsatisfied life. Maybe you should just become a nun, at least then you’d be fulfilled by the Lord.

The engine purrs as you start your car. You quickly make sure the air vents are pointed directly at your sweaty and flushed face. Your frustration is at an all time high, and to add insult to injury, you’re turned on enough that your swollen and puffy clit brushes the seam of your leggings every time you move.

What you’d give to have a real cock stretching you out. One so thick it borderline hurts, but you guess you’re settling for your fingers and a toy tonight. Booorrring.

The repeated buzzing of your phone catches your attention, and you glance at the cup holder you’d carelessly tossed it into. When you check it there’s a string of nasty texts bombarding your Lock Screen. You roll your eyes, not bothering to read them. His number is blocked and deleted in less than ten seconds because you’re entirely out of fucks to give.

After that, you drive home in silence, choosing to imagine scenarios where a rough and mysterious man with a big dick makes you cum so many times you can’t stand it.

It’s a dream that seems so out of reach you’re worried you’ll never be able to catch it.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s Friday night and you’ve spent hours scrolling aimlessly through Reddit, cuddled up in your warm bed. There’s no chance in hell you’re risking ruining another weekend by hooking up with someone new.

A movie plays quietly in the background while you lick your wounds and read about other women experiencing similar scenarios. At least you’re not alone. You’ve read through what must be dozens of stories when one in particular catches your eye.

It’s from username “boyzdrool__demonsrule”. Her story is exactly like yours. Never being able to find a decent date, awful, mediocre sex every time, and it seems she’s found a solution.

“Incubus”, you read. Huh, that sounds vaguely familiar. With a jolt, a light bulb goes off in your mind. An incubus is some sort of mythical sex demon, if you’re recalling it correctly. A spark of hope flickers in your chest as you continue to skim over her post.

She mentions a website she discovered with a forum that provided her a specific spell for summoning an incubus. She ended up with a gorgeous blonde who sports a nasty attitude that’s been satisfying her non stop since she met him.

You push yourself into a seated position, eyes widening as excitement rushes through you. You’re trying to tame your eagerness, to take this with a grain of salt, because this random lady could be completely off her rocker. But really, what have you got to lose? If it works then you’ll finally have your dark and mysterious man! And if it doesn’t, well, then you’ve only wasted a night and you can return to wallowing in self pity.

You steel your resolve and send “boyzdrool__demonsrule” a message before you can regret the decision. To your surprise, she responds within the hour. You text back and forth with her all night, receiving the link to the website and even a list of items that’s needed for the ritual.

It’s 4 a.m when you decide to call it quits. You’re brimming with nervous energy but somehow you manage to sleep for a few hours. When you wake the next morning you spend a couple additional hours researching the ins and outs, just to be sure. With one last scan of your odd shopping list you stuff your shoes on and head to town.

You try to picture what kind of incubus will show up, assuming he’ll be similar to the one your new Reddit friend summoned.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

When the last candle flickers out it leaves your bedside lamp as the only source of soft light in your bedroom. Your jaw has dropped open in shock, eyes staring unblinkingly at the towering figure of the creature you’ve just summoned.

He’s definitely an incubus, that you’re certain of.

The demon wears only short black leather shorts. He’s pale, broad chested and has muscles so well defined you could drool. He appears mostly human, except for the elfish ears sticking out of loose red hair. Oh, and the long, slender black tail that ends in a point and swishes leisurely behind him.

“Hi!” He chirps, beaming at you with shark like teeth as he extends a hand to help you up from your current kneeling position on the floor.

Shocked to the core that this actually worked, unsure if you’re hallucinating or of what the hell else to do, you grasp his hand and allow him to haul you to your feet. You remember to shut your mouth, checking him over several times before returning your gaze to his bright expression.

“Are you….?” You trail off and he nods eagerly, squeezing your hand.

“Yes! I’m an incubus! My name’s Eijirou, what’s yours?” He chatters, happiness radiating from him in waves. You mutter your name in reply and he hums, dropping your hand to place his own on his hips. He glances around your room and whistles lowly, becoming easily distracted by your lamp. He rushes over to it and bends in half to tap the lamp shade with a clawed finger, giggling when it flickers due to his otherworldly energy. “I love lamps! We don’t have any where I’m from, it’s mostly pretty dark!”

You hum noncommittally, half confused - half amused at his easygoing behavior.

“Hey, Eijirou?” You ask tentatively, embarrassment slamming into you like a truck as you recall all the filthy things you’d been sincerely hoping to take part in with the incubus. Eijirou is just so….cheery that it paints him as pure and innocent.

Even though he’s a demon.

He straightens to his full height, shifting his head towards you with a smile. “Yes?”

“Are you, I mean — is this something you…. do often?” You fiddle with your fingers as you speak. “You understand what I summoned you for, right?”

Eijirou’s brows furrow in puzzlement before his expression switches to sheepish. “Oh!” Eijirou rubs the back of his neck. “Well, technically no. I don’t normally get sent to these kinds of summonings, but I’m filling in for my friend Shouto! He’s very pretty, and he gets sent to lots of these. But I promise I can be what you want!” He smiles reassuringly.

Your face pinches in apprehension. “Are you sure this is in your area of expertise?” Guilt then punches you in the gut when Eijirou’s sunny demeanor wilts before your very eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Eijirou begins to apologize. “I know I’m probably not as attractive as Shouto...” You cut him off before he can ramble, waving your hands animatedly as you speak.

“No! No Eijirou, you are fucking gorgeous, I swear. The minute I saw you my pussy had a heartbeat, if you know what I mean.”

Pink dusts Eijirou’s cheeks and you’re sure you must be dreaming. An incubus is blushing because of what you said. How have you ended up comforting him? This has been chaotic from the get go, and so far, has not once gone according to plan.

“Oh. Well, what is it then? I can have them send someone else if you’d like!” He offers, trying to remain upbeat but his eyes are sad.

How the fuck did this guy even become a demon?

You wince slightly. “You just seem very…innocent.”

Eijirou’s eyebrows rise to his hairline, lips parting in surprise. Then, he throws his head back and has the audacity to start laughing. You scowl, humiliation burning at the back of your neck.

“Aw baby,” he coos, sauntering up to you and looming like a rain cloud. He tilts his head down with a searing look, mouth twisting into a sly smirk. “You have no idea what I’ve done or how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, voice low and sultry.

Your body flushes white hot from the implication, the heat bursting in your cheeks as you shift your weight from foot to foot. You suddenly feel defiant, the familiar buzz of arousal kick starting in your veins.

“You think you can make me feel good?” You ask haughtily, raising your chin in a challenge. Eijirou’s lips stretch wide and he swiftly lowers himself until he’s able to grip the backs of your thighs.

“I know I can baby.” Then he’s effortlessly lifting you off the floor and forcing you to lock your legs around his waist with a gasp.

You clutch at broad shoulders for balance, which is promptly shattered when he takes a few steps and tosses you onto your bed as if you weigh nothing. You bounce as you land, the blanket puffing up and settling down around you. Anticipation lights up your spine as Eijirou crawls up the bed like a large cat, tail flicking back and forth excitedly.

Eijirou pushes your thighs apart with overly warm hands, sharp claws scratching at your soft skin. It’s easy to melt under his touch, the built up tension from the past several months clouding your logical thinking and causing you not to give a single fuck about the potential consequences this may bring.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous. I’ll eat you alive if you let me,” he purrs, bunching your shirt up and letting it catch on your tits before allowing them to bounce free. The light stimulation makes you moan, arms raising out of instinct as Eijirou slips your shirt off and tosses it to the side. Your nipples become hard and perky as soon as they’re exposed to the cool air.

“That’s what I summoned you for, isn’t it?” You tease, deciding to fully embrace the situation. Eijirou laughs in amusement and his tail swishes a bit quicker as he fits himself snug between your thighs.

He leans over you and plants a hand on either side of your head to cage you in. Your pulse quickens, heat pooling rich and honeyed in your pelvis as you stare up at him and realize just how huge he is.

And you haven’t even seen his cock yet.

In lieu of voicing what you want aloud, you strain your neck upwards as if you’re going to kiss him, but he stays just out of reach. The demon grins happily, displaying his mouthful of razor sharp teeth.

“Poor thing, I can see the sexual frustration pent up inside you,” he says with fake pity, ignoring your obvious ask for a kiss. He dips his head down to lick a hot stripe up the side of your throat. Your breath catches as you clutch his forearms, head dropping back to the blankets. “I’ll give you some relief pretty baby,” he murmurs, sinking his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder with no warning whatsoever.

You wail as a knee jerk response to the blistering flash of pain, but it’s mere seconds before it begins to numb and pulsate with a hot pleasure instead.

“Eijirou,” you groan as he slides his teeth free with a satisfied, slick sound. He laps at the sluggishly bleeding wound, the texture of his long tongue rougher than what’s natural. “What did you do?” You ask in a breathless voice. Your body warms even further, the base of your skull tingling.

“Just helping! I promise my saliva only enhances your pleasure once it hits your bloodstream. You’ll be dazed for a few hours, but I won’t hurt you.” He places open mouthed kisses up your neck and pauses to whisper in your ear. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

Your ever growing lust is turning your insides to ash and you can’t resist as you firmly frame the sides of his face to yank him in for a bruising kiss. His mouth is surprisingly soft, wet and so so hot. Eijirou bites playfully at your lower lip and pushes his tongue into your mouth when you open up for him.

You kiss until you’re lightheaded, until your lungs are screaming. Your throat burns when you break for air and Eijirou mouths over your collarbone, slowly working his way down your chest.

He reaches the sensitive area at the top of your breast, biting and sucking with the pure intention of leaving a dark mark. Your thighs twitch from the dull ache, closing and framing his hips. The incubus takes advantage of the moment to nestle his thick, full cock against you, rolling his hips to drag the length of it over your clit. It’s incredible, even through the material keeping you apart.

You cry out his name when he releases your swollen skin, and the soft whine he answers you with is music to your ears. Eijirou moves to push your nipple into the purse of his lips, sucking until your spine arches, eager for more.

He switches to your other breast to repeat the action before pressing lingering kisses down to your belly button and even further south. The soft material of your shorts sticks lewdly to your pussy as he slips them off, a clear string as evidence of your arousal stretches between you and the material before it breaks and leaves you bare.

“Feeling good baby?” Eijirou snickers, running his thumb through your soft lips to part them and see what he’s done to you. You’re too floaty and turned on to pay much attention to his teasing, fisting the sheets as you stare at him with heavy lidded eyes and nod.

Eijirou notices you slipping deeper and deeper under his thrall. He wastes no more time before retreating to his belly and placing the flat of his abnormally long tongue to your pussy, dragging it up and licking your clit.

Your blood sings, the pleasure so intense that it shoves you right up to edge. You brokenly warn Eijirou and he pulls away to fit his teeth to your inner thigh, piercing the skin before you can protest.

He listens to your breathy moans, humming appreciatively and repeating the action on the other side. The more his saliva swirls through your bloodstream the more the sensation of being drunk creeps up on you.

When Eijirou is satisfied with his work, he proceeds to eat your pussy until your feet cramp from curling your toes so harshly. Until you’re fisting his hair like you’re trying to rip it out in handfuls and squirting on his face.

He licks you clean, snickering at the way your thighs tense as you get overstimulated. You seem to blink once and when you reopen them Eijirou’s shorts have vanished. His flushed, huge, cock curves up towards his belly, kicking a few times when you stare at it.

You’re secretly praying he splits you in half.

Eijirou nudges your thighs apart with his knees, sitting back on his calves. The tip of his cock dips inside you before sliding up and over your clit, the mess between your legs helping ease the glide. At this point words are failing you and all you’re able to do is whine in protest.

Eijirou hushes you as he steadies his base and lines himself up, inching forward until your tight pussy gives and swallows him whole. The second he bottoms out, you fucking cum. Head thrown back and white knuckling the sheets when your pussy flutters and clings desperately to Eijirou because she can’t stand the thought of letting go.

The demon gasps in delight, settling his hands on your hips. “Good job sweetheart, that was a big one huh? Give me another one baby, I’m in love with the way you tighten up around me,” he gushes as he starts rolling his hips. He builds up to a steady pace, holding you still as you scratch at his forearms.

He coaxes one more orgasm out of you before you’re unceremoniously flipped onto your belly. You face plant into the sheets as your ass is yanked into the air, wrists twisted and pinned behind your back. You startle when a surprisingly soft tail tickles your skin, coiling tightly to bind your wrists.

He tangles his fingers in your hair and hikes you off the bed, other hand coming to rest on your throat and bend your neck backwards at an awkward angle. His hand tightens as he snaps his hips and fills you with his cock once again, a bitten off sob spilling from your lips.

Eijirou fucks you harder than before, yanking you back into each powerful push of his hips and digging his fingers into the sides of your throat. Your moans rattle low in your throat as you start to reach what seems like your hundredth orgasm. You’ve lost count. Eijirou’s harsh panting and soft whimpers dance in the air, combining with the lewd sound of his skin smacking sticky with yours.

The hot, slick glide of his cock dragging in and out of your pussy is all you can focus on, and before you can even hint that you’re on the edge, you’re cumming so hard your ears start to ring. Every single muscle goes taught as he works you through it.

“Fuck, you’re amazing baby, you like the way my cock feels yeah? The noises you make when you cum are so fucking cute, oh my god,” he says breathlessly, hips speeding up just a smidge and making your already shallowing breathing catch.

Eijirou suddenly releases his hold on your throat and hair, keeping your wrists bound by his tail and opting to shove your face into the mattress with a hand to the back of your head. The other grips your hip and his nails slice your skin as he fucks you within an inch of your life.

The pain doesn’t feel like pain anymore, only an unyielding, scorching pleasure that continues to build and shatter. Rinse and repeat. You lose track of how many times you’re thrown over the edge and into the abyss.

“Can I cum inside you?” Eijirou asks after some time, movements becoming jerky and frantic. Each push jostles you forward as you try to hang on by white knuckling the sheets.

You nod without hesitation, moaning weakly. Eijirou takes advantage of your consent, pushing into the root, cock twitching as a new warmth blossoms inside you. He pulls out almost immediately afterwards, allowing your sore and exhausted body to collapse to the mattress. You shift in place and faintly register his cum trailing out of you.

Your eyes are bleary as you vaguely make out his figure moving around your room, whispering something in a language unfamiliar to you, and then you’re passing out without a care in the world.

When you wake up an undetermined amount of hours later, you find yourself clean and in a large t-shirt, tucked under the blankets. There’s an ache between your legs as you sit up, and all the previous nights memories coming rushing back to you. You’re so satisfied, months of stress having been worked out of you, and you can’t stop grinning when you think of Eijirou.

You’re already planning on how you can get him to come back when you spot a note sitting pretty on your night stand.

“Hey pretty girl! I hope I didn’t hurt you too much, and leaving a note is probably way out of line, but I couldn’t help myself. I really loved, enjoyed our time together, and I’d come back in a heartbeat if you asked. P.S., see below for steps on how to summon me specifically. (:”

As you quickly scan over the instructions something tender blooms in your chest, but you’re unwilling to examine the troubling feeling too closely for now.

Eijirou’s not “dark” or “mysterious”. No, he’s like the sun, and you hope to get burnt by him over and over again.

[sai-int]

so. currently burning up with a 101.2 degree fever and feeling horrible, so i’m thinking of john (price) doting on you, loving you, overall making sure you’re alright.

BUT, the gods insist that—despite being sick—you need dick. unfortunately for john, he couldn’tve predicted how hot you’d be:

—side note: i swear on literally every star in the sky that i’ve read something like this months ago but with simon; im not intending to copy that at all, but also if anyone finds it PLEASE tell me so i can kiss the authors brain

the fever’s been wrecking you all day. your body aches. your face feels like it’s been scrubbed with sandpaper. you’re hot, then freezing, then hot again. eyes watering, nose raw. and even though all you want is peace and quiet and maybe to disintegrate gently into your mattress, john keeps checking on you like he’s running a one-man field hospital in your bedroom.

the door creaks open—again. you groan without looking. “john.”

“i know, i know,” comes his voice, soft and smug, “i’m not listenin’. again.”

you peek out from under the blanket. he’s there with a warm compress in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and that damn look on his face like he’s the one who’s worried sick.

“you’re gonna catch it,” you croak, dragging his shirt higher over your nose. you’ve been wearing it all day—oversized, soft, frayed at the cuffs from how often he wears it to bed. it still smells like him, even though you’ve probably sweat through it twice.

john sets the glass down on the bedside table, leans forward, and presses the compress to your forehead with a gentleness that has your chest aching more than the fever does.

“then i catch it,” he says simply. “not leavin’ you to suffer alone.”

“you could, y’know. just text me from the other room like a sane person.”

“not a chance.” he shifts down into the bed, stretching out beside you, his body already warm and solid. “i know you don’t ask for help when you’re sick, so i’m not giving you the chance.”

you grumble something unintelligible, but when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into him—blankets cocooned around both of you—you melt fast and easy.

his hand slips under your shirt. big and rough and familiar. he rubs slow, lazy circles into your stomach, the backs of your hips, grounding you in the storm of your fever. you sigh, tuck your face against his neck, even if you mumble, “you’re so stubborn.”

“and you’re terrible at takin’ care of yourself,” he replies, kissing your temple.

it’s all comfort, warmth, and his scent—tobacco and cedar and the faint bite of his cologne. you can barely hold a thought. the heat of him seeps into your bones. you’re hazy, a little dizzy, all soft edges and skin. maybe it’s the fever. maybe it’s him.

maybe it’s both.

because at some point—somewhere between his hands drifting lower and your body arching back into him—you stop pretending to care about being sick. you roll your hips once. slow. deliberate. and his hand freezes on your thigh.

“careful,” he says, voice pitched low against your ear. “keep that up and i’ll think you’re feelin’ better.”

you give him a breathy laugh. “always feelin’ good enough for you.”

john groans softly and nuzzles into your neck, scruff scraping your skin. “fuck you’re warm, baby,” he mutters. “got me hard just touchin’ you.”

his hand slips further between your thighs, fingertips brushing heat and wet through the thin cotton of your underwear. you whimper—all fragile and needy for his touch—and he swears under his breath.

“you’re soaked,” he murmurs, like it’s a prayer. “burnin’ up too, and still wantin’ me. that it, sweetheart?”

you nod, dazed. your body’s too sensitive, skin too hot, nerves already lit up. he moves with a slowness that borders on reverence, pulling your underwear aside, not even bothering to take them off, just baring enough to slide two thick fingers through the mess between your legs.

“need me?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his voice a low rasp. “tell me, dove.”

“need you,” you whisper, barely able to form the words.

he doesn’t make you wait. he tugs the waistband of his sweats down just enough, then guides himself to your entrance from behind, still spooning you, still holding you close like he’s afraid to let go. he eases into you with a low, guttural sound—one that sends heat spiraling up your spine.

you arch into him, dragging him deeper, and he grips your hip like a lifeline.

“fuck, baby,” he gasps, his breath catching. “you’re boilin—fuck–”

it happens fast.

wayyy too fast.

you’re hot and soft and pulsing around him, and his brain just short circuits. his whole body jerks against yours with a broken groan, hips twitching, and he spills into you before he can even warn you—his head tipping back, face twisted with desperate pleasure.

“…oh… christ,” he mutters, panting, still buried inside you. “that was not supposed to happen.”

you blink, stunned. “did you just—”

“yes.”

“you just got in there—”

“yes.”

there’s a beat of silence. and then you both start laughing, breathless and disbelieving, tangled in fever heat and sticky sheets as his spend drips out of you and down your thighs.

“awh baby,” you coo, sniffling, eyes closed as you lean into him.

he kisses the top of your head, still smiling. “yeah, yeah… only you could be this sick and stilll so fuckin’ sexy. so whose fault is that?”

you groan and bury your face in his chest, flushed for too many reasons.

he pulls the blanket tighter around you both, cock still softening inside you, body molded to yours like he was made to fit there. one hand strokes your thigh. the other covers your heart.

“you’re definitely stuck with me,” he murmurs.

“if you get sick, i get bragging rights for eternity.”

“sure, love,” he hums, nuzzling into you as he shuts his eyes.

“long as i’m with you.”

[tetsvya]

blanket hog, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro is a blanket hog, plain and simple.

➼ pairing! timeskip!kuroo tetsuro x gn!reader

➼ warnings! none, this is pure fluff

➼ word count! 1.1k

➼ author’s note! erhm, hello! found this half-written piece i wrote last summer and finished it up. enjoy :p

"Tetsu," You hum out softly, pointer finger jabbing into the meat of said man's arm for the umpteenth time. As expected, Kuroo doesn't so much as move a muscle. Huffing quietly, you lean back onto your calves, knees digging further into your side of the mattress that you share with the insufferable man who currently lies with his back towards you. Eyes moving past him to get a glance at the alarm clock on his bedside table, you realize that after having completed your night routine and spending a good ten minutes attempting to wake up your boyfriend, a new day has begun, and god, are you tired. So despite knowing it's most likely futile, you give one last call of your boyfriend's name. He remains asleep, or what you personally believe to be a pretense of sleep. And normally, you'd simply leave him to his own devices. But there was one issue.

He's hogging the entire comforter. And the room is freezing.

But you also know what he's doing. Kuroo has always been a provocative man, living for the thrill of riling up others - dishing out teasing remarks and displaying mischievous behavior. And you have a suspicious inkling that this is most likely your "payback" for not coming to bed earlier with him when he had asked you to, instead opting to tell him you'd join him later. He had insisted on you coming with him, but all you could do was offer him a chaste kiss on the cheek before bidding him a good night. And so he went, sulking all the way. However, you really couldn't be blamed. You had been sent home with a ridiculous amount of paperwork, and since it was your Friday, you had wanted to knock it all out tonight so that you didn't have to fret about it on your days off from work.

Still, in Kuroo's deluded mind, it was probably considered an unforgivable betrayal.

Thus, this was him "getting back" at you. But unfortunately for your boyfriend, you are anything but compliant. So instead of playing into his antics, you kick your legs out from under you, so that you're no longer sitting on your knees, before settling back into your spot of the bed, albeit a bit further from Tetsurou than normal. And instead of trying to tug the blanket out of his hold, you merely curl up into a ball, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them in an exaggerated attempt at conserving your body heat.

Because you know your boyfriend. And you've been with him long enough to know that he can never keep up with his antics for too long, especially not at the expense of you. The sight of you, cold and curled up in the bed, would surely be one to tug on his heartstrings. The thought alone makes a smile curl onto your face, and it widens even more so when you feel just the slightest shift of movement coming from the other side of the bed.

You knew that little shit wasn't sleeping.

Still, you refuse to acknowledge him. Instead, you remain curled into yourself, deciding it's your turn to feign sleep. Eyes fluttering shut, you school your features into a passive one. Moments pass in silence, and in all honesty, as each one ticks by, you find that you could probably slip into true slumber at any second, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you and settling deep into your bones. Blanket and Kuroo be damned.

Just before your body fully gives way to its fatigue, arms are suddenly slithering around your waist and gently pulling you back, until your back is pulled flush against Kuroo's chest. A wave of warmth rushes over you when you feel the plush material of the comforter you share with your boyfriend being draped over your body, along with the combined warmth of his body heat. As a result, your limbs slowly retract from your body, legs and arms straightening out as you practically melt into the warmth that's now engulfing you. You nearly miss the quiet huff of air that comes from behind you as your body grows more lax. But your ears pick up on it, and the smile that has been playing at your lips since you first felt Kuroo's touch on your skin grows tenfold. 

He couldn't even last two minutes.

"You're so mean," Tetsurou's sleep-ridden voice vibrates against the shell of your ear, soft lips brushing against the skin there with each word being spoken. You won't admit it but the soft touches have you melting back against his chest.

"Says the one who was going to just leave me out in the cold."

A huff slips past Kuroo's lips, but still, his arms tighten around your waist.

"You deserved it," Came Kuroo's childish retort and you can practically hear the pout on his lips as he speaks.

An incredulous laugh slips past your lips, and you twist in his hold so that you can meet your boyfriend's gaze. He's pulled you so close to him that your nose nearly bumps against his when you resettle, and just like you predicted, his lips are turned down into a small pout.

"And why exactly do I deserve it, pray tell?"

"You wouldn't come to bed with me." His pout deepens, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop the laughter that is bubbling in your throat and threatens to slip past them.

"Aw, my poor baby." You coo instead, fingers reaching out to give his cheek a pinching little tug. He's quick to swat your hand away but he doesn't let you pull away, instead threading his fingers through yours and letting your conjoined hands fall against his chest. The action has your teasing tone slipping away, and a more sincere gaze replacing your prior mischievous one as you peer up at your boyfriend. It's not hard to notice the small bags he has forming under his eyes, faint hues of blue and purple beneath them acting as a testament to his own demanding workload and exhaustion. Frowning slightly, you reach out with your free hand to push some of the hair off his forehead, touch featherlight and gentle as you take him in, "Well, I'm here now."

"Yeah, well, it's too late." Kuroo huffs out, as if he's not currently entangling his legs with yours and tugging you even closer to his body, free hand guiding your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

"Oh, yeah." You roll your eyes in response, but there's a content smile playing at your lips as you feel the soft kiss he presses to your forehead, "Definitely too late."

[littlelovelunette]

Shibari

Ambessa Medarda x Fem!Virgin!Shy!Reader

Sex, rope play/Shibari, bleeding from hymen breaking, dumbification (?), slight size kink, strap, gentle!Ambessa, overstimulation.

"Just relax for me," Ambessa ordered, her voice deep yet smooth.

She had you splayed across the bed, your limbs bathed in the golden lamp from the lights overhead. Her big hands worked gently to spread your thighs, bringing the red rope that she used to bind your arms to bind your legs as well. She secured the ropes around your legs, tight enough to hold you in place but not tight enough to leave any bruises. Afterall, the Noxian warlord worshipped every inch of your divine skin.

"How do you feel?" Ambessa asked, reaching for the glass of wine that rested on the bedside table, she took a sip.

"I'm scared," you admitted, a faint blush creeping upto your cheeks as you maintained eye contact with her.

Ambessa let out a tiny chuckle, placing the wine back down on the table. She leaned down, her gray hair shading your face from the light but you didn't need the light to know her lips were on top of yours. You opened up your lips without her needing to ask, tasting the sweet wine on her tongue.

When she parted from the kiss, she stared into your eyes for a long time, her hands still working to secure the ropes in such a way they circled around your breasts making them look fuller than they were. She pulled back, standing over your body to admire her work. You desperately ground against the air, hips raising off the mattress as you tried to get some friction.

Ambessa chuckled, "Patience, sweet child."

Ambessa's hand rested on your pelvis, thumb slowly rubbing right above your clit. You knew she wasn't inexperienced but she was just playing around. Ambessa loved taking her time with you and you should've anticipated this.

"Say, sweet little one, what do you want me to do you?" Ambessa questioned as if she wasn't eye-fucking you.

"I need your fingers," you stammered but managed to speak, "I need your fingers in—..." You looked away, cheeks flushing red as you tried to phrase it in a way that didn't make you sound like an absolute pervert. But you couldn't.

"Oh, dear." Ambessa moved her thumb on your clit, pressing down a little, "You cannot even speak what you wish for, how could I possibly quench your desire?"

Your eyes fluttered shut in frustration but before you could speak, her thumb rubbed a single, slow circle around your clit. You moaned, moaned loudly as if you weren't a virgin in Medarda's bed.

"There we go," Ambessa smirked, "Embrace it, and I will give you the best of the best."

Your eyes met her golden ones, you trusted her. Your thighs moved to part more, calves tied with your thighs. Ambessa placed her other hand on your thigh to make you hold that position, fingers slipping inside your hole gently. She scissored through your tight passage in an attempt of helping you loosen up just about enough for you to be able to take her strap.

She knew you were just her small, dumb baby so she needed to tread carefully. You let out a throaty moan, your toes curling and uncurling at the burning sensation that invaded your genitalia. You couldn't even word out the way that you felt and it was humiliating to accept it.

Ambessa's fingers slipped out after a while and she picked up the dark red strap that awaited this very moment. She squirted a generous amount of lube on the shaft of the toy before she lined it against your slit.

"Are you ready, my dearest?" Ambessa asked, her hands resting on both your thighs. You gave her a nod causing her to squeeze your thigh just rough enough for you to know what your fault was.

"Yes, General," you said, your voice wavering. You hadn't meant to call her 'General'. It just slipped out but Ambessa wasn't complaining. Maybe she even liked it better?

Ambessa pushed forward, burying the big toy inside your small, trembling body. You struggled to accomodate the thick, girthy strap but you had to for her. For your General. Ambessa didn't move, didn't say anything and just held it there.

"Let me know when it's okay to move." Ambessa pressed the bulge that appeared in your lower tummy.

"You can start now." You said nervously.

"Are you sure, darling?" Ambessa questioned skeptically but since you gave her a determined stare and a nod that gestured 'I'm not taking no for an answer', she had to move.

You moaned from the stretch, the burning sensation was almost too much. Almost. But you could handle it. You threw your head back, moaning a loud "Ambessa!" As she bottomed out.

"Too much?" Ambessa asked.

"N-Nuh-uh, keep going," you answered quickly.

Ambessa noticed the blood on the shaft of the toy despite the toy being red as well, she continued moving, every little thrust was enough to push you over the edge and see stars. Your wrists struggled against the ties simply because the pleasure was too overwhelming. Your legs felt numb but you wanted more. A knot that you'd never experienced before twisted in your tummy, tighter and tighter with the impending pleasure. As it built up, you were sure you'd pass out but you didn't. Maybe you had more in you than you thought. Ambessa littered kisses at the valley of your tits, squeezing them with both hands.

You squeezed around the strap as if your life depended on it, legs straining against the red ropes as you struggled. "I think I'm gonna cum." You muttered shyly and Ambessa chuckled.

"Yeah? Let it all out for me, my dearest," Ambessa said, stroking your face as you fell apart in her arms.

[elleandstufff]

Birthday Girl 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

It’s my birthday, so y'all are getting birthday smut. 

Thanos x fem!reader

Warnings: Established relationship, wet dream, birthday sex, slight somnophilia, pre-established consent, oral (f receiving), sleep orgasm, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink ig, begging, pet names, he’s not high so ooc Thanos, reader wears contacts because I can’t see for shit, 800 words

ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ . 𖥔 . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ˑ

Anytime you had a wet dream, it was more of a feeling rather than an actual dream. This time is no different. You feel as if you are wrapped up in a soft cloud while the most heavenly feeling emanates from between your legs. It starts off slow, then builds to a brutally fast speed–so fast that you can barely take it. You feel a coil building up inside you, and you can’t hold back anymore. You let go, feeling the dam within you burst. 

You wake on your back, the blurry ceiling being the first thing you see. Feeling pressure on your lower half, you lift yourself onto your elbows to peer down. Your boyfriend is lying in between your legs, his head resting on his arms that are positioned on your lower stomach. Your vision is blurry, but you can still clearly see the goofy smile on his face as he lovingly gazes up at you. 

“Goodmorning, birthday girl,” he says, voice deep and still heavy from sleep. 

“So I have you to thank for that sleep orgasm?”

“Yep,” he says, tone full of cockiness. “Think that’s a new record. Fastest one yet.” 

You playfully roll your eyes and prop yourself up a bit more. Reaching for the bedside table, you grab hold of your contact case and pop the little blue discs into your eyes. Looking at him now with clear eyes, he presses a chaste kiss to your clit. It sends an involuntary shock through your body. You didn’t realize how sensitive you still were. 

“You want more, baby?” Your boyfriend notices your arousal, and you nod eagerly. 

“What do you want? I need you to use your words, baby.” 

“Your cum,” you whisper sheepishly. 

“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you,” he says, even though you’re certain that he can hear you. 

“Your cum. I want your cum.” 

“Good, and where do you want it?” 

“Inside,” you nearly whine. You’re desperate to get filled after all his teasing. 

“Well all you had to do was ask, baby.” 

He smirks, then presses gentle, slow kisses on the insides of your thighs then up to your stomach. He pulls the tee shirt of his that you had been wearing off of your body before kissing your boobs, your chest, your neck, doing everything besides the one thing you need. 

You desperately tug at the boxer shorts he’s wearing, and he thankfully obliges. He finally positions himself at your entrance, and you grab onto his lean shoulders for stability. He inches himself into your hole inch by inch, so painstakingly slow that you try to buck your own hips forward. He stops his movement completely and holds you still. “Ah, ah, ah, you’re not in charge here, birthday girl.”

“Please fuck me,” you whine. “Please, I need it so bad.” 

“Well, since it’s your birthday and you’re asking so nicely…”

He starts fucking into you at a brutal pace. Your brain barely works as he pounds in and out of you, the sound of him slamming into you filling the room. He has you pinned down to the mattress so firmly that you can’t move at all. Instead, you rake your fingers down his tattooed back. 

He catches your mouth in a kiss that’s as intense as he is. Your lips and tongues clash together in a way that convinces you that you weren’t the only one feeling needy this morning. His lips drop to your neck, and he bites and sucks at your neck until you know you’ll have a mark there for at least the next week. “Mmm, fucking love you.” 

You’re a whining and moaning mess that can’t get any words out, especially because you feel your second release of the morning rapidly approaching. He slips a hand down to your already incredibly sensitive clit, and just a few rubs has you coming undone all over his cock. 

You don’t have time to recover before he grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders. He presses against you, effectively folding you in half. “You want this cum, huh? Gotta make sure I get it real deep then. Can’t have any slipping out.” 

He’s impossibly deep in you, nudging places inside you that you didn’t know existed. He grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes. “Beg.” 

“Need… your cum… so deep-” You barely form the words, but it does the trick. 

He shoots thick, hot ropes of cum deep within your walls. He gives a couple of soft thrusts after he finishes, trying to keep all of his seed as deep as possible within you. He slowly pulls out after he goes soft. He gingerly lowers your legs back onto the mattress, and then he plops beside you and pulls you against him. You lie there for a few minutes just catching your breath and relaxing in each other’s touch. 

“What time do you have to go into the studio today?” you ask your always-busy boyfriend. 

“No studio today,” he answers. “Only you.” 

‧₊˚ ⋅ Masterlist ‧₊˚ ⋅

[st4rlvr]

Morning warmth || CSN

The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight spilling through the sheer curtains. San lay beside you, his back turned, his breathing steady and deep. The sound of it filled the quiet room like a gentle lullaby. Yet, despite his closeness, a shiver danced across your skin. The air was cool, and the blanket draped over you wasn’t enough to chase away the chill.

You stared at his back, the curve of his shoulder peeking out from the blanket. San always radiated warmth, like his body carried the sun within. Unable to resist, you inched closer, pressing yourself to his back. The heat he exuded enveloped you immediately, soothing and comforting. You tucked your knees up, curling around him like he was the hearth of a fire.

San stirred slightly at your touch, his head turning just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his profile, peaceful and soft in sleep. His hair was slightly mussed, and his lips parted just the tiniest bit as he let out a contented sigh. You felt his warmth seep into you, chasing away the chill entirely. Your arms instinctively slid around his waist, holding him close, and you buried your face against his shoulder blade. He smelled like cedarwood and something uniquely him—an intoxicating mix that instantly calmed you.

“Cold?” he murmured sleepily, his voice a low rasp in the quiet.

“A little,” you admitted, your words muffled against his back.

Without a word, San shifted slightly, adjusting himself to let you snuggle even closer. His hand reached behind to gently pat your arm, a lazy gesture of affection before he drifted back into sleep. You smiled against him, closing your eyes as the warmth of his body wrapped around you like a cocoon.

The next morning, you awoke to the faint sound of San moving about. The bed dipped slightly as he leaned over to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and soft.

“I have to go,” he whispered. His voice was laced with regret, and you hummed in acknowledgment, too sleepy to fully respond.

By the time you stirred again, he was gone. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the world waking up outside. Yet his presence lingered. The sheets smelled of him—woodsy and familiar, tinged with the faintest hint of his cologne. The warmth of the bed still clung to you, as if he had only just left moments ago.

You sighed, sinking further into the mattress. Reaching over to the bedside table, you grabbed the book you’d been reading the night before. The words on the page were engaging, but your mind kept drifting back to him—the sound of his voice, the way his warmth had cradled you through the night.

Time passed unnoticed as you remained cocooned in the sanctuary of the bed, surrounded by the remnants of him. Even in his absence, he was everywhere, and the thought made you smile.

[gyudollies]

thinking ab soobin and his urge to baby trap you...

cw : baby trapping (duh), sub reader, needy dom soobin, soob hates condoms, p in v, soob calls reader baby, bunny

(this came to me in a vision)

in soobin's mind, you were the prettiest thing. The most perfect angelic features were spread upon the canvas that was your face. So why wouldn't he want to make a person that looked as pretty as you, plus his own handsome features?

the first time he caught himself not listening to you asking him to pull out, he felt horrible. but could you blame him ? the way your gummy walls milked his cock, it was almost painful for the yearning man. "ngh- bin w-wait!" you would squeeze around him as he pounded into you with such vigor and passion. at some point he got so lost in the feeling of your pussy he didn't even notice you pushing him to try and get him to pull out. you let out a whimper of defeat and just stared at him in shock.

"bin ! what the fuck ?" you had wide eyes and stared down at his cock still nestled inside of you. it took him a moment to come back down to earth and realize you started to panic a little bit. "shit baby m sorry-" he pulled out slowly, the loss of your warmth making him shiver. "pussy felt too good m sorry baby, won't do it again." and when he looked at you with those sweet eyes as he pressed a kiss to your hand, you couldn't be upset for long. it was a one-time thing, he'll just go get you a plan b.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶୨♡୧

ever since that day you had been a bit more wary. you hadn't let soobin fuck you raw and it was safe to say he was going insane. it was like come kind of cruel prank you were playing on him. he knew you preferred it raw, so why were you torturing him for one mistake ?

soon enough you'd notice your condoms gone missing. the box in your bedside table? gone. the ones in your car's glovebox? long since disappeared. you wondered if you and soobin had just been fucking a lot. but soobin knew, oh he was guilty. you wouldnt notice the small holes he poked in the "new box" he bought after you explained your confusion to him. you certainly didn't notice that he gave you a headache pill instead of your regular birth control. maybe you could blame your own obliviousness, but he was your boyfriend so obviously you'd trust him.

your lips clashed against his, he had you spread out on the mattress as he nipped and sucked at your nipples. "mmn- condom ?" you asked through whimpers, soobin only frowned, a pout threatening to show up on his face. "baby, can we please go raw tonight?" he moved his lips up to your neck, softly nipping at the skin. his other hand steadied at your hips where your legs were spread. "promise i'll be good for you-" he rubbed circles on your clothed clit, "wont cum inside, promise." he mumbled against your neck.

"im not sure-" you considered your options, soobin was really needy and so were you. maybe it was the stimulation he was giving your pulsing clit and the haze starting to cloud your head but you nodded at him. "okay, just pull out kay ?" you smiled at him, his face brightened up insanely fast. he really was a simple man. "fuck- thank you bunny."

he removed your panties with crazy haste and quickly took off his boxers. he slid his pulsing cock into your wet heat. you let out a whine at his fast paste, he gripped your hip with one hand, and held onto your neck softly with the other. he was rough, but loving. you could tell he was more turned on than usual.

"f-fuck bunny. so, so tight f' me right ? j-jus me." he nearly whimpered in your ear as you felt your walls clench around what you consider the best dick of your life. "you-you ! jus you binnie, please-" you felt tears start to prick at your eyes as his thumb circled around your clit.

"gonna cum !" you shouted, his fast harsh thrusts starting to get to the point of no return in your pussy. he let out a soft "me too" as you continued to grip at his chest. "f-fuck. gonna make you a mama. you want that right ? gonna take all my s-seed right bunny ?" he babbled, getting absolutely lost in the feeling of your velvet walls.

you whined, "fuck, p-pull out soobin-" you tried to speak between pants. "take it, t-take it. be good n take it please baby ?" he really wasnt asking for permission, but your gasps and pushing on his chest was enough for him to let out a grunt as he finished, his load spurting into your pussy. you finished shortly after, panting.

he didnt pull out, he quickly fell over on you and cuddled you close with his cock still deep inside of you. a little cockwarming never hurt anyone right ? as you came back from your high you were about to protest his actions, but soobin did not want to hear it. he only pushed his cock deeper inside you, attempting to keep his seed as deep as possible. he wrapped his arms around you and let out a low chuckle

"gonna be a great mama."

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶୨♡୧

literally NEEDED to write this drabble. swear.

taglist: @estrnrea