#and you know what? Good for him. GOOD FOR HIM

[doomdoomofdoom]

fuck jubilee but this clip and Shane Ivan Nash fucking decimating Ben Shapiro. inject it into my bloodstream.

My jaw dropped

[tyrantisterror]

Fuck it, I didn't want to make a post on this but it's bugging the hell out of me so let's exorcize the thought.

Lilo and Stitch is an extremely good children's movie. I've been working at a daycare for over five years now, and out of all the children's movies I've shown to an auidence of twenty or so school-age kids (i.e. between the ages of 5 and 12), the only movie that's held their attention as well as Lilo and Stitch is The Emperor's New Groove, and the only one that's held it better is An American Tail. Of those three, Lilo and Stitch has won the vote of "what movie we will watch" the most. It not only entertains kids, but emotionally captivates them from start to finish, because it very thoroughly understands how to engage children on their level. It's a smart, tightly written children's movie.

The feat of story-telling genius it pulls of lies in its ability to reach both where children's imaginations want to go and where their lived real-world experiences lie - most children's movies focus on one or the other, but Lilo and Stitch dives deep into both. On the imagination side, there's Stitch's whole plotline of being a little alien monster being chased by other weirdo aliens onto earth because they want to stop him from running amok and causing havoc (which, of course, happens anyway in fun cartoony comedy/action spectacle). On the real-world side, you have Lilo's plotline of being a troubled little girl who has an abundance of very real problems that, like an actual child, she struggles to comprehend and deal with, as well as the many adults in her life that care about her to some degree but all struggle to fully understand her. Kids want to be Stitch and run amok and cause cartoony havoc. Kids, even the least-troubled kids, relate to Lilo, because all of them have been in a similar situation as her at least once in their lives.

Balancing these two very different stories, with very different tones and scopes to their respective conflicts, is a hard writing task, but Lilo and Stitch manages to do it in a way that seems effortless with one very powerful trick. The two plots are direct mirrors to each other, complete with the characters involved in each having foils in the respective plot. To break it down:

Stitch, the wild and destructive alien gremlin who everyone has labeled as a crime against existence, is Lilo, the troubled young girl who's viewed as a "problem child" by all the adults in her life. In both plotlines, Stitch and Lilo are facing the threat of being "taken away" from the life they know because they act out, and in both plotlines, we see that this is an unfathomably cruel thing to do to them and will not actually solve the problems they have.

Dr. Jumbaa, the mad scientist who made Stitch because making monsters is what mad scientists do, and who had no intentions of ever being nurturing or parental to anything or anyone in his life, is Nani, Lilo's older sister whose parents died when she was young and now is forced to act as a parental substitute despite not being mentally or emotionally prepared for that responsibility yet. Both Dr. Jumbaa and Nani are trying to get their respective wild children in line with what society wants them to be, and both are struggling hard with it because they in turn have a lot of growing to do before they can actually accomplish that.

Pleakley, the nebbish alien bureaucrat who ends up being assigned to help Dr. Jumbaa despite being mostly uninvolved in creating the whole Stitch situation, is David, the nice but mostly ineffectual guy who's crushing on Nani and wants to help her but doesn't really have much he can provide except emotional support. Ultimately Pleakley and David prove that said emotional support is a lot more helpful than it seems on the surface, as they give Jumbaa and Nani respectively a lot of the pushes they need to become better in their parental roles.

The Grand Councilwoman, who runs the society of aliens that is trying to banish Stitch forever for his crime of existing, is Cobra Bubbles, the Child Protective Services agent who is in charge of deciding whether or not Lilo needs to be taken away from her home forever for, ostensibly, her own good. Both are well-intentioned and stern, with a desire to follow the rules of society and do what procedure says is the most humane thing to do in this situation, but both lack the understanding of Stitch/Lilo's situation to actually help until the end of the movie.

Finally, we have Captain Gantu, the enforcer of the Galactic Council who is a mean, aggressive, sadistic brute but is viewed as a "good guy" by society because he plays by its rules (well, when he knows can't get away with breaking them, anyway), who is the counterpart of Myrtle, the mean, aggressive, sadistic schoolyard bully who is viewed as a "good kid" by other adults because she plays by the rules they established (well, when she knows she can't get away with breaking them, anyway). Both Gantu and Myrtle are, in truth, much nastier in temperament than Stitch and Lilo, but are better at hiding it in front of others and so get away with it, and often make Stitch and Lilo look worse in the eyes of others by provoking them to violence and then playing the victim about it - in fact, both even have the same line, "Does this look infected to you?", which they say after goading their respective wild-child victims into biting them.

The symmetry of these two plotlines allows them to actually feed into each other and build each other up instead of fighting each other for screentime. The fantastical nature of Stitch's plot adds whimsy to the far more realistic problems that Lilo faces so they don't get too heavy for the children in the audience, while the very real struggles of Lilo in her plotline bleed over into Stitch's plot and make both very emotionally poignant. When both plotlines hit their shared climax, they reach children on a emotional level few other movies can match - the terror of Lilo being taken away from her family, and the emotional complexity of that problem (Cobra Bubbles pointing to Lilo's ruined house and shouting at Nani, "IS THIS WHAT LILO NEEDS?" is so starkly real and heart-breaking), is matched and echoed in the visual splendor and mania of the spectacular no-way-this-is-going-to-work chase scene where Stitch, Nani, Jumbaa, and Pleakley all team up to rescue Lilo from Gantu.

The arcs of the characters all more or less line up. Nani confronts her own failures to be a guardian and parent to Lilo and resolves to do better and learn from her mistakes. Jumbaa, who through most of the movie protests to be evil and uncaring, nonetheless comes to not only care for Pleakley, but more importantly for Stitch too, and ends up assuming the role he never wanted but nonetheless forced himself into from the start: he is Stitch's family. Hell, the moment that reveals this is really clever - Stitch goes out into the wilderness to try and re-enact a scene from a storybook of The Ugly Duckling, hoping, in a very childish way, that his family will show up and love him. Jumbaa arrives and, coldly but not particularly cruelly, tells Stitch that he has no family - that Stitch wasn't born, but created in a lab by Jumbaa himself. But in that moment Jumbaa is proving himself wrong - because Stitch's creator, his parent, DID show up, and did exactly what happens in the story by telling Stitch the truth of what he is. It can't be a surprise, then, that later in the movie Jumbaa ends up deciding to side with Stitch, to help him save Lilo, and to stay on Earth with his child.

David and Pleakley go from being pushed away by Nani and Jumbaa respectively to essentially becoming their partners in the family. The Grand Councilwoman and Cobra Bubbles finally see how cruel their initial solution of isolating Stitch and Lilo from their family would be, and bend the rules they are supposed to enforce to protect and support this weird found family instead of breaking it apart. Gantu and Myrtle are recognized for the assholes they are and face comeuppance in the form of comedic slapstick pratfalls. And most importantly, Stitch and Lilo both get the emotional support and understanding they need to thrive and live happy lives as children should be allowed to do. It's like poetry, it rhymes.

It's a very precise, smartly written movie. It's a delicate balancing act of tone and emotions, with a very strong theme about the need for family and understanding that hits children in their hearts and imaginations. It's extremely well structured.

...

So it'd be kind of colossally fucking stupid to remake it and start fucking around with the core structure of it, chopping out pieces and completely altering others, with no real purpose beyond "Well, the executives thought it might be better if we did this."

[prosypepper]

cw: smut, screaming, unprotected p in v, toji being..himself. 18+ mdni!

toji fushiguro likes to make his girls scream.

usually it’s no trouble—he’s pretty experienced in the bedroom, obviously. he’s got a record of thirty-two seconds he set a while ago, as terrible as it sounds.

but you—his pretty new girlfriend—are giving him some trouble.

it’s been almost an hour. he’d done everything—oral, different positions, even that thing with his fingers that’s sure to make someone scream. yet you’re quiet, clinging onto his neck, only sounds falling from your lips are small gasps and itty bitty moans.

for your first time together, toji wanted to take things slow— but it’s not good enough. so, toji switches it up yet again.

he manhandles you to flip over, shoving a pillow under you—something he’d read a while ago and had yet to try out. his hands push your knees into your chest, keeping you open, before sliding his cock back in painfully slow.

you don’t complain or make any noise again, you just rest your hands on his big shoulders and hold on. then toji begins—sliding all the way out and shoving his length right back in.

that elicits the first loud moan you’d given him. if he didn’t know any better, toji would’ve thought he’d been doing a bad job this whole time.

and he thrusts again, slow, yet hard, punctuating each thrust with a sharp stop. you go quiet again, closing your eyes and focusing on the sensation of him—and he hits it.

“oh fuck.”

your voice comes out trembling, a little whiny, yet nothing close to a scream. toji picks up his pace, thrusts still calculated and mean. he hits your g-spot so accurately and aggressive, the sensation bubbling up inside you quickly.

toji sees it, heightened senses be damned, his eyes locking onto your expression. you’re biting your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, digging your nails into his shoulder. you’re like a balloon about to pop, pumped too full you can’t help what comes out of your mouth.

“fuck! fuck you!” you scream, eyes shooting open wide when toji penetrates your g-spot again, rudely.

“aw, that ain’t nice, baby,” toji coos, knowing you don’t mean any harm in your yelling.

you’re just overwhelmed by pleasure, he gets it—toji knows he’s good. he can feel your thighs trembling, your cunt spasming around him every time he hits that sacred spot so deep inside you.

“oh my god—ugh—shit!” curse after curse falls from your lips, only causing toji’s grin to get wider and wider. your moans aren’t pretty in any sense—each noise is ugly and visceral and raw.

toji is eating it up.

“let it out,” he rasps with a laugh, angling his hips to pound even harder into your tight walls.

your fist clenches together and you bang the side of it on toji’s hard bicep. he doesn’t stop, not even after all your exclamations and yelling, because he knows you don’t want him to.

toji doesn’t want to, either—he won’t be satisfied until you lose your voice.

[madamechrissy]

for me?

summary - Satoru Gojo really loves making you feel better on your period, massages, your favorite chocolates - but maybe it's a little selfish, since he loves fucking you during it so much.

warnings PWP, this is super filthy aha, oral (f receiving - yes I'm crazy) fingering, period sex, TW - mentions of blood, Satoru is basically obsessed with fucking you during it, feral Satoru (he's kinda yandere tbh) kissing and licking your blood off his lips etc, messy ass sex. I'm pmsing mmkay aha </3

Satoru Gojo is the perfect boyfriend, especially when it is that time of the month, and you're cramping. He makes sure he has chocolate for you, the wine you enjoy, and your favorite movie so you two can cuddle after work. But he does all this for honestly the most selfish reasons!!!

He loves fucking you on your period.

It's all lowkey his sneaky little tactics, to get you to plead so sweetly for him to fill you up, to really get rid of those cramps. But he doesn't start off so obvious, in fact you don't even realize it is his end game, not when he makes sure your tampons and pads are stocked, not when he's running you a bubble bath and playing your favorite music.

You love your blue eyed freaky ass man, who's currently massaging your tummy as you both lay on the large soft suede couch in his living room. His big warm hand is pressing soothing circles against your lower tummy, making you whine out at how good it feels.

"More, Toru, please," you ask sweetly, and look back at him, pouting so pretty, as he smiles sweetly with his plump pink lips.

"More what, sweets?" Satoru's voice is literally a purr, he is pressing the heel of his hand against your sore tummy now, you feel the warmth spread lower, biting your lower lip as he moves, hard body against your back.

"lower, please?" He hums then, pressing lower, below your belly button, making you moan, the sound causing him to just leak sticky precum against his boxers.

"There, sweetheart?" You nod eagerly, sighing at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut. Your nipples press against your top, hurting then.

"Toru, will you massage them too?" He chuckles then, reaching around to grip your breast with the other hand, the arm that is under you, wrapping you in those lanky arms.

He begins caressing your nipples, one by one, squishing your breasts in his huge hands, and it feels so perfect, how sore they are and his teasing. His lips brush your neck, dying to slip inside you, but he always makes sure to have you writhing, begging for it first, since it was just too cute to make you beg for it. Especially the first few times when you were so shy and cute about it, but he knows your period has you even more turned on, and he loves to tease you.

"You're so spoiled, aren't you," he teases, silky white locks brushing your cheek as his teeth nip into your delicate skin, dragging across the side of your neck then. "Didn't answer me, use your words."

"Y-yes, you spoil me - mnh!" You're aching for him again, grinding your ass back against him, feeling his thick heavy length.

He's smiling now, pressing his hand harder, tugging you back more so you feel him. At first a little shy and embarrassed, you can't help but want him during your period now, but the way he loses his mind is indeed just a little bit concerning. "Need something else? Don't be shy baby," he says softly, playing with your nipple as his other hand presses even lower on your tummy. "Just tell me."

You whine out and he chuckles at that. "Lower," Satoru moans at that, his fingers brushing even lower over your pelvis, the warmth feeling so fucking good.

"Why don't you go get naked on that bed for me? I'll massage you everywhere," he whispers, plump lips against your ear. You bite back a moan, nodding, and when he finds you laying right over a black towel in a few moments he chuckles again.

"You wanted this the whole time, hmm?: He tugs your thighs apart, kissing up your tummy to your pretty tits, sucking a sore nipple in his hot mouth, making you whine out.

"Toru!" He moans at that, big hand slipping low until he's rolling the pad of his thumb on your clit, wetness pours out along with blood trickling, he moans at the sight of it, his eyes so dilated they're black now.

"Wanna cum, hmm sweetheart? That what my baby needs for her to feel better?" You nod weakly, and he smirks then. "Then say please, be a good girl."

You're arching your hips up for more, while he looks down with his lidded gaze, at the blood slipping from your puffy lips, trickling and making him groan at how fucking delectable it is. 'Mnh-' you can't manage a word, instead you're leaning up, trying to kiss him as his thumb gets slicker and slicker.

"Say please, sweetheart," he urges again, pulling his fingers back as he leans up. "You can use your words, can't you?"

"Please, Toru, ngh!" You're gushing now, he slips his fingers down your slit, now his fingers are just coated in your blood, you used to freak out at it, but now you're throbbing in need for more, his plump lips a breath away, tempting you as they part, and he stares hungrily at you, nostrils flaring. "Toru, in me please!"

"Hmm, not yet baby," you're whining at his teasing but then he's got his snowy head between your thighs, breath tickling your cunt, kissing up your inner thigh. "Fuck, look how messy you are."

"What are- ah!" Satoru hasn't done that yet, he's a munch but usually during your period he just teases your clit and fucks you. When he laps up the blood and arousal from your slit with a long stripe of his tongue, your heart pounds in your chest. "You can't!? Ah!"

He grins, white teeth blinding with red dripping from his pouty lips now. "Why can't I?"

You can't think of the right answer, that it's a deliciously filthy thing and feels way too good. The sight of him with blood on his mouth simply makes you gush more, he notices it too, spreading those puffy lips and watching your clear arousal mix with the bright crimson, making a mess. Satoru laps at it again, and instead of arguing, you're tugging his face against your cunt now, crying out. It feels so fucking good, you're so sensitive and his tongue is flicking inside your gummy walls, more blood pouring now, he devours it, groaning as it coats his face.

Satoru always thinks you're sexy on your period, something about your tits so swollen, the nipples all puffy and sensitive, and your scent makes him fucking feral. Now that he's coveted in your blood and you're convulsing, fucking his face, he can't help but rut his cock into the mattress, coating himself in you and whining at how badly he wants that mess everywhere, until you're both covered in it. He sucks your clit into his mouth, looking up at you, your breasts heaving, mouth wide and drooling.

"Toru, I'm c-close!" You're not fighting it now he notices, grinning against your cunt as he looks up at you under snowy lashes, his huge hands pressing into your ribcage.

You're so close to shattering for him, an embarrassing amount of blood is all over his face as he pulls back, slipping two long fingers in your soppy, bloody cunt, while you eye his pretty face, he's leaning over you, blood dripping from his mouth and chin.

"Cum again, make me such a fucking mess," he whispers in that husky voice, his pale white skin such a stark contrast to all the mess he's got from you on his skin. Shivers go down your body then, and how can you not cum for him, the echoing squelching mixing with your moans. "That's it, such a good girl, gonna help you feel better huh? can't talk baby, that just won't do."

How could you talk, he's so filthy with it, with his long fucking fingers scissoring in and out as you make a bigger mess. When he's licking blood off his lips like some psycho, stark white teeth flashing as he grins so psychotically at you. He's chuckling as he watches you teetering on the edge, huffing, fingers pressing into his biceps, your eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering.

"Ask me the right way, sweetheart, and I'll give you anything," he says, devotion and insanity both in eyes almost black they're so dilated, feral grin on that face while you try to form a word.

"P-please, Toru please - lemme cum I - ah!" Satoru's watching you as he lets you find that release then, cramps subsiding blissfully as the orgasm rocks all over you, pure fucking ecstacy that has you drooling.

Satoru's cock hurts with how bad he wants to be inside the ruby red mess between your thighs, but he needs you begging even more. He slips his crimson coated fingers across your hips, decorating your smooth skin in it in stripes across your hip bones, just fueling his cock to leak more pre. You whine out, cunt pulsing now around nothing, biting your lower lip as your hand slip up his chest.\

"Need more, sweetheart?" You nod weakly, he takes one of your little hands then, gripping your wrist in his long fingers. "Then take more, hmm? such a good girl, there you go," he's encouraging you as you use shaky fingers to undo his pants, and soon his cock springs out, hot and heavy as it smacks your inner thigh. "Tell me what you need."

"Your cock inside me, please, ngh!" Satoru cups your face with one hand, the one somewhat not coated in blood and arousal, using the other to align his thick, mushroomed tip, the squishing and clicking loud and obscene in his room. He leans down low, blood dripping onto your plump, bitten lips, your heart pounds under your breasts then.

"Go ahead, don't be shy sweets," he teases, and you lean up, kissing the blood smeared on his lips, and when he sees it all over your mouth, he loses it, shoving his cock in and groaning, slamming his lips all over yours. You're gasping under him as he stuffs you so full, so wet from your arousal and blood it just slips in even though he's so fucking big. "Love this, don't you?"

"Y-yes," you're licking the coppery taste off your mouth as your boyfriend collectively loses it, biting your lips until they're bleeding too, while his cock fucks a mess out of you and back into you, the smacking of his skin and the soppy messy sounds echoing in your pounding ears. "Satoru!"

"That's it, you are so messy, aren't you? I make you feel better, don't I?" Satoru is huffing those words, blood splattering all up his cock and his flat, toned abdomen, while it spills down your thighs. "Answer me, baby."

"C-can't... talk..." he chuckles then, spreading your thighs even further as he pounds that thick, veiny cock, making you a mess for him, under him, your skin decorated in your own blood like pretty patterns from his artists fingers as he fucks into you. "Ah!" You're drooling, cumming all over his cock, the mess more and more, only urging Satoru further on, his whines against your ear as he grips your hair, slamming his cock so deep.

"I always take care of you, hmm? You love it, being so spoiled?" you're desperately nodding, still unable to do more than gasp and cling to him with messy fingers, nails pressing into his blood covered skin as he fucks you harder, deeper, slamming your cervix with that tip as he throbs in you. "Want me to fill you up, huh? Don't you baby?"

"Please," your weak little whisper is all he needs, cum hot and thick inside your cunt, filling you impossibly as he slows, eliciting one more orgasm with a roll of his hips and his teeth sinking into a sore nipple. Your hands entangle in his white locks, tinging them pinkish red as you cry out, and he's groaning. "Toru..."

"Fuck, you're a wreck, look at you," he's grinning, you are a fucking mess, he's got blood all over you, your trembling thighs, when he pulls out, cum mixing and tinging it pink, he squirts more and more cum out of that messy cock too, decorating your tummy with more and moaning. "God, look at you."

"Satoru..." You're taking several breaths, it looks like a whole fucking murder scene with your psycho, feral boyfriend who's spreading more of his cum and your blood all over. "Can we... shower?"

"Can I get some pictures?"

"Huh!?"

"Huh?"

Y'know I'm not even sorry LMAO not at all lmao

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoblue-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

[cupcakedieabetes]

Shitposter Danny gets too real

Another 'League did not get the message after people tried talking to them about the ghost situation. '

So what does Danny do best if he does not want attention on him, but activate the flame? Conspiracy Theories and Shitposting.

He started arguing with people online that the Bruce-Man ship would never happen because Bruce and Batman are one and the same. When he left Gotham, it was to disguise the fact that Bruce accidentally split into two.

Batman got the more gruffer personality, while Bruce had his pleasant guy personality. Especially if you consider that Bruce Wayne used to be the guy who picked fights and bit people AND was moody in the past. But suddenly, he came back and had a personality change? And seemed a lot more dumber than before.

He must have been hit with the Gotham beam that should have made him into a crazy villain, but the world decided to be nice for once and just split them up so they wouldn't be like Two-Face and retained his sanity. Bruce is the one who restrains Batman, especially since now that they've split, their personalities are more prominent. That is why Bruce is not Batman's Sugar Daddy, but is BRUCE HIMSELF!!

The war that sparked within the fandom was massive, especially since it's not just a long string of text of evidence and facts; Danny put it in a separate post, as it kept on exceeding the word limit. Danny also considered his own situation when he and his ghost self were split up.

Some people tried to defend this ship by saying 'Self-cest exists, so why couldn't the BruceMan ship still live?'

They tried to argue like "What about their kids, then?"

Danny, of course, went, "The Robins are the boys, and possibly some girls, as evidenced by Orphan and Spoiler, that Batman rescued from a cult of assassins! And bc Bruce and Batman are one and the same, they decide to raise them together! But of course, you can't just throw people from the cult to the world without any therapy and adaptation, which is why Batman brings them out at night for their mentality! They must have been in a really bad situation, that vigilantism for Gotham must have been for their mental health, bc now they can do good things!

And since Nightwing could do acrobatic, we do not know if he might even be sometimes substituted by Dick Grayson! It's their bonding activity! Doing acrobats!" Danny laughed at the pun.

Then people started pondering whether the Waynes ever substituted for the Bats occasionally, even as body doubles, or vice versa. The others conspired about the cult of assassins.

But pretty much everyone was in agreement that Dick Grayson and Nightwing bonded through Acrobats, that Dick probably thought Nightwing a lot of his tricks too. The cult of assassins was even more outlandish, but Danny brought up that Damian Wayne seemed very sheltered. It may be just because he was of a different culture, but some Arabs said that some of his habits did NOT fit in their culture. Probably an old one, but nobody really goes THAT old unless they're in a cult.

This brought up the discussion of the differences of cults in different countries and which cults could possibly be the cult of assassins.

Danny laughed as people sent death threats and threatened to doxx him, but he was already halfway dead.

Then, he got a visitor from the Justice League

[casuallyanidiot]

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

Tw. Stalking, Yandere, nsfw themes, blackmail

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

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

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

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

So now you lived with your stalker now turned roommate.

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

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

Yandere who likes to take photos of you openly now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[reignpage]

“What about that guy?”

You sigh. He’s at it again. For the past couple days, Satoru’s been hellbent on setting you up with random men. He pointed out all sorts of people – a big, burly man with a long beard, a skinny tortured soul, and yes, even a homeless man. There’s no logic to his selection; everyone’s good enough. But also, no one is. 

“On second thoughts, don’t go with that guy. He looks sketchy.”

Your brow quirks up. “Sketchy?”

“Yeah, like he collects My Little Pony figurines in jars.”

Sitting on a park bench, you two watch the world go by, alone in a little bubble. It’s cold but you don’t dare huddle closer to him. Instead, you wrap your arms tight around yourself. None of the men he picks out will ever be The One, that ship has long passed now. He knows that. Maybe that’s why he’s trying so hard. 

“He looks like he can cook – you like guys that can cook, right?”

You shrug. “It didn’t really matter since you bought good food for me all the time. And your private chef’s the best. Sweetest man I know.”

Laughing, he asks, “Am I second best, at least?”

“You were.”

Satoru falls silent. One day, you’ll acknowledge that you’re being unnecessarily cruel, but you can’t find it in you to care right now. He deserves this. How dare he sit here, beside you, like nothing happened, trying to set you up as if it’ll fix everything he broke? 

Doesn’t he know he’s hurting you? Doesn’t he know better? After all the years you’ve been together, he thinks it can end like this? That you two can laugh on this bench, your bench, like the old times? The realisation that he wants to let you go, sever all ties and never look back washes over you. Again.

You might just throw up.

“I can’t move on until you do,” he says, and when you close your eyes, you imagine he bears a soft smile on his pretty face, kind and playful. Always kind. Always playful. But now carrying a certain coldness you don’t recognise. It’s a coldness one only faces on the other side.

Shivering, you hold yourself tighter again. “I know.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“I was.”

When the people pass by, they don’t give you a second glance. To them, they just see a blur, a shapeless mass of something that used to be alive. If they look closer, they’ll see two people: one frozen in time and the other stuck between worlds. 

Both forgotten in the chaos and lost in their own grief. 

Never to be found.

[p1psqueaks]

LOVE AND DEEPSPACE — “CURRENT BOYFRIEND” PRANK

a/n: i’m sorry idk why i made zayne’s kinda serious and angsty, guess i’m still reeling from the effects of the main story </3

ZAYNE

You’re pacing around your living room with your phone pressed to your ear, laughing quietly at something your best friend just said. The afternoon sun filters through the windows, golden and soft, catching on the curve of your grin. Zayne is on the couch, reading. Or pretending to, anyway. You can feel his attention flicking toward you every so often.

“—No, I’m not going alone,” you say into the phone. “Zayne’s coming with me.”

You glance at him. He’s still reading, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, posture relaxed but alert in that way of his. You chew your bottom lip, a mischievous idea forming like lightning behind your eyes.

“Yeah,” you continue smoothly, loud enough for him to hear. “I’m bringing my current boyfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence from your friend, followed by a muffled laugh. But what grabs your attention is the subtle shift in Zayne. His eyes lift from the page, gaze pinning you like a blade pressed to skin — not sharp, but undeniably felt.

He sets the book down, slow and deliberate. “Current boyfriend?” he says, voice level, calm. Too calm.

You turn toward him, covering the phone’s mic with your hand. “Yeah?” you say, trying to bite back a grin.

He doesn’t blink. “What do you mean ‘current’?”

Your friend is absolutely losing it in your ear, but you ignore them. You’re more focused on the way Zayne’s brow furrows — not deeply, just enough to signal that you’ve touched something serious beneath that ever-composed surface.

You lift an eyebrow. “You’re not not my current boyfriend.”

Zayne stands, slow and measured, and crosses the space between you in three long strides. He stops a foot away, looking down at you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression of his.

“If I’m your current boyfriend,” he says, his voice low and quiet, “that implies there’s going to be a next one.”

The smile slips off your lips a little, because you weren’t expecting him to sound genuinely bothered. You see it now, in the tightness of his jaw, in the way he’s watching you — not angry, just… hurt.

You blink. “Zayne—”

“I don’t play musical chairs with my relationships,” he says, softer this time. “When I choose someone, it’s not temporary. So if you’re joking, fine. But if you’re not…” He trails off, leaving the thought unfinished, but heavy between you.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

“I was messing with you,” you say, finally. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know that, right?”

He watches you for a second longer. Then he exhales, a quiet sigh through his nose, and something in his posture eases.

“Good,” he says simply. “Because I’m not going anywhere. And I’d prefer it if you weren’t planning to, either.”

You swallow and nod, trying not to let your heart explode in your chest.

“Noted,” you murmur.

From the phone, your friend shouts, “TELL HIM I SAID HI!”

Zayne raises an eyebrow. You shoot him an apologetic look. “They, uh, say hi.”

He leans in close enough that you can feel the warmth of him against your skin.

“Tell them I’m not just the current boyfriend,” he murmurs, voice barely audible. “I’m the last one.”

You drop the phone.

XAVIER

He’s sitting across from you now, fork in hand, chewing on a ravioli like it personally wronged him. His cheeks are a little flushed, probably from the red pepper flakes he accidentally dumped on his plate. But mostly, you’re focused on the way his knee keeps bumping yours under the table, like he might be doing it on purpose, but also might apologize at any second.

The waiter comes by to check on your table, offering a polite smile. “How’s everything tasting?”

You flash a smile back. “It’s great, thank you. My current boyfriend and I are really enjoying it.”

Xavier’s fork stops midair.

The waiter nods, unfazed, and walks away.

You don’t even look at Xavier at first. You just take another bite of pasta and wait… three… two—

“What do you mean current boyfriend?” Xavier blurts, voice a little high, like his soul just left his body.

You look up, chewing. “Hmm?”

He’s staring at you, eyebrows halfway to his hairline, fork forgotten on his plate. “Did you just call me your current boyfriend? Like there’s gonna be a next one?”

You blink innocently. “Well, I mean… we are currently dating.”

Xavier slouches dramatically in his chair, eyes narrowed. “Okay. Wow. So I’m just a phase now? Like bangs? Or oat milk?”

You snort. “Bangs?”

“People always regret bangs,” he says flatly, pouting now. “You’re gonna regret me?”

“Xavier.”

“I’m just your little test boyfriend, huh?” He’s still going. “Just here so you can get back out there and find your forever man with strong jawlines and… and functional communication skills.”

You nearly spit out your water. “Functional communication skills? You’re literally the one sulking because I said one word.”

“That one word was current,” he says, pointing at you with a breadstick like it’s a legal document. “That’s, like… the most insecure relationship word. That’s, like, pre-breakup language.”

You lean forward, resting your chin in your hand, eyes dancing. “Are you jealous? Of hypothetical boyfriends who don’t exist?”

“I might be,” he mutters. “You didn’t say only, or amazing, or even adorable but clumsy and at video games. You just said current like I’m a passing trend.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. “Okay. First of all, you are adorable and clumsy and freakishly good at video games.”

He doesn’t look appeased.

You reach across the table and nudge his hand. “And second of all… I was messing with you. I just wanted to see what your face would do.”

He squints at you. “This is your idea of romance?”

“It is now.”

He pouts harder, but you can see the edge of a smile tugging at his lips.

“…Can you just, like, say boyfriend again?” he mumbles. “But this time with no weird adjectives in front of it?”

You smirk. “Xavier.”

“Yes?”

“You’re my boyfriend.”

He melts, slumping forward like you just healed him with divine affirmation.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I can keep eating now.”

“You didn’t stop eating.”

“That’s beside the point.”

RAFAYEL

The gallery is buzzing — soft music, clinking glasses, murmurs of “genius” and “visionary” floating through the air like the smell of paint that hasn’t fully dried.

You’re standing beside Rafayel, who is —unsurprisingly — dressed like someone who definitely knows he’s the main character. Long dark coat, rings glinting under the track lights, wavy locks falling just right, looking equal parts tortured artist and runway model.

He’s pretending to be humble as someone compliments his use of negative space.

You nudge his side. “You gonna tell them you spilled coffee on that canvas and then just rolled with it?”

Rafayel doesn’t miss a beat. “Never reveal the chaos behind the masterpiece,” he whispers, eyes gleaming. “That’s rule one of being a genius.”

You’re grinning, half-listening to someone nearby marvel at a piece Rafayel made at 3 a.m. after watching a documentary about the moon and crying for twenty minutes.

Then a waiter stops beside you both with a tray of drinks.

“Oh, thank you,” you say, plucking one off the tray. You gesture lazily to Rafayel beside you. “My current boyfriend will have one, too.”

There’s a slight pause.

The waiter smiles and moves on.

Rafayel turns to you with the slow precision of a man personally betrayed.

“I’m sorry — current?” he repeats, hand on his chest like you’ve just stabbed him mid-sip.

You blink innocently. “Yeah?”

He narrows his eyes. “You make it sound like I’m on a rental plan. Like I’m just your seasonal boyfriend — here for spring, gone by June.”

You sip your drink and shrug. “Well, you are limited edition.”

Rafayel gasps, spinning half a step away from you like he needs air. “Not you calling me disposable at my own art exhibition,” he says, utterly scandalized. “This is my night. My moment. I wore the dramatic coat for you.”

You stifle a laugh. “Are you genuinely offended?”

“I am aesthetically offended,” he says, fanning himself with a folded event pamphlet. “Emotionally bruised. My ego — cracked like cheap pottery. Do you know how many layers of emotional depth are under this coat?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Two?”

He glares. “Three. And a scarf.”

You step closer, brushing your hand against his. “I was joking.”

“Oh, really? Because I was about to demand a retraction and a public declaration of eternal love in front of the fruit platter.”

You lean in, barely containing your grin. “Rafayel?”

He looks at you, suspicious.

“You’re not my current boyfriend.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not?”

You shake your head. “No. You’re my forever boyfriend.”

There’s a beat. Then he flings his arms around your shoulders in an overly dramatic swoop, nearly spilling both your drinks. “Finally. The respect I deserve.”

You laugh against him, and he mutters into your ear, “God, I love when you flatter me in public.”

You pull back and raise your glass. “To my one and only, eternally dramatic boyfriend.”

Rafayel clinks his glass against yours, smirking. “Now we’re speaking the same language.”

SYLUS

You’re out with Sylus at your favorite cafe — the cozy kind with mismatched mugs, moody lighting, and music that sounds like a slow-motion scene in an indie film. He’s sitting across from you, long fingers wrapped around a coffee cup, that smug little grin resting naturally on his face like it was born there.

He leans back in his chair, watching you over the rim of his drink, dark eyes glinting with quiet mischief.

“So,” he says, voice low and easy, “I assume this isn’t just a coffee date. You lured me here for something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you.”

He smirks. “Right. And maybe I just come here for the foam art.”

You’re about to respond when the barista swings by your table with two pastries.

“Oh, thanks,” you say cheerfully, accepting them. You gesture to Sylus, smiling sweetly. “This is for me and my current boyfriend.”

The barista gives a polite nod and walks off.

Sylus, however, freezes like someone just called him a side character.

“…I’m sorry,” he says, slow and deliberate, “current?”

You look up, feigning innocence. “What?”

His eyes narrow, but the grin’s still there, cocky and dangerous. “Did you just call me your current boyfriend?”

You blink. “Technically, yes. You are my boyfriend. Currently.”

He sets his coffee down, leans forward, elbows on the table, and gives you that look — the one he uses when he’s about to win something.

“Oh, kitten,” he says smoothly, “I didn’t realize I was on a trial basis.”

You stifle a laugh. “There’s no trial basis.”

“Oh no, I get it. You’ve got, like, a subscription plan,” he says, all faux-understanding. “One Sylus for a limited time only. Cancel anytime. No refunds.”

You shrug. “There might be a survey at the end.”

He places a hand on his chest, gasping theatrically. “So you are shopping around. Am I just… a placeholder until Mr. Perfect shows up with a normal lifestyle and emotional availability?”

You grin. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

He leans in further, voice a little lower now. “Okay. But would Mr. Perfect know exactly how you like your coffee? Would he remember your favorite flowers? Would he put up with your insatiable hunger?

“Hey—”

“Would he,” Sylus says, lifting a brow, “kiss you like this?”

Before you can reply, he leans across the table and kisses you — soft, brief, but enough to shut you up and steal your breath in the most obnoxiously effective way.

You blink when he pulls back. “That was cheating.”

He shrugs. “So is calling me your current boyfriend like I’m going to expire next week.”

You exhale, defeated. “Okay, fine. You’re not my current boyfriend.”

He smirks, victorious. “Damn right.”

“You’re my permanent boyfriend,” you mutter.

He leans back, arms crossed, looking far too pleased. “Say it louder for the people in the back.”

You throw a napkin at him. He catches it without flinching.

“Still want to call me current?” he teases.

You reach across the table, grabbing his pastry. “You’re my forever boyfriend, but you’re currently not getting this.”

CALEB

Caleb’s fingers are laced with yours, warm and a little clammy, probably from nerves. Even after months of dating, he still gets flustered every time you kiss his cheek or say his name in a certain tone. Like he can’t quite believe this is real. Like he’s waiting for the punchline.

You’re walking through the park after grabbing smoothies — his is something bright and tropical, yours tastes vaguely like regret but you refuse to admit it — and the sunlight is hitting everything just right. Too perfect, really.

You glance over at him, cheeks a little sore from smiling.

And because the moment is sweet and lovely and stable…

You decide to mess with him.

A couple walking a golden retriever passes you and gives a friendly smile. You smile back and say, cheerily, “Just out with my current boyfriend.”

You swear you can feel Caleb’s soul pause beside you.

“…Wait.” He slows down, blinking. “Did you just say current boyfriend?”

You sip your smoothie. “Mmhmm.”

There’s a long pause.

“Current… like, temporary?” he says, voice cracking just enough to make your heart pang, even though you’re trying very hard not to laugh.

You glance at him. He’s staring straight ahead now, eyes wide, brow furrowed.

“I — I didn’t know there was an expiration date,” he mumbles.

“Oh no,” you say, as flat as possible. “Did I not mention the three-month boyfriend rotation policy?”

His face turns bright red. “That’s a joke… right?”

You don’t answer immediately. He starts doing the thing where he overthinks out loud.

“I mean — I thought we were doing okay. I even started leaving a toothbrush at your place! Was that presumptuous? Oh my god. Did I over-toothbrush?”

You finally break, laughing so hard you nearly choke on your smoothie. “Caleb, I’m joking!”

He looks at you, wounded. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“You said it so casually! Like I’m just the… transitional guy before you meet your soulmate at a farmer’s market or something.”

You stop walking, turn to face him, and press a hand to his chest. “You are not transitional. You are the soulmate from the farmer’s market. You are the guy who makes me braised pork ribs and plays me weird indie songs and says ‘sorry’ when he wins at video games.”

He’s quiet for a second, processing. Then, softly: “So… no expiration date?”

“Lifetime warranty,” you say, grinning. “Even if your snoring is kind of a crime.”

He laughs, finally. “Okay. But, like, just for my sanity… no more ‘current’ jokes, right?”

You squeeze his hand. “Only if you promise to stop apologizing every time we kiss.”

He gives you that soft, slightly crooked smile that always hits you right in the ribs. “No promises.”

“Then neither from me, current boyfriend.”

“Hey—!”

[cumironi]

ACADEMIC MISCONDUCT : PU$$Y SUBMISSION EDITION jjk men

feat. gojo, geot, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. bold of you to assume that your pu$$y now belongs to you after you fück your professor. and you even have the audacity to go on blind date without telling them? yeah, go on a date, get rearranged’ they said.

wn. non-sorcerer au!, professor-student au, 23 you & 31 them, possessive behavior and aggressive jealousy from a very large, very unhinged professor, power imbalance (professor/student), but you, likes it and he really likes it unprotected sex with zero post-nut clarity, degradation + praise in the same breath, oral fixation, spit kink, desk abuse, pussy worship in the form of punishment, rough $ex featuring emotional damage and breeding threats, heavy marking, territorial growling, and minor furniture damage, aftercare only implied because he’s still pissed off, she’s in love, he’s obsessed, nobody’s normal & he thinks jealousy is a valid teaching method.

GOJO SATORU

the first time satoru hears about it, it’s in the most humiliating way possible. not from you. not from a whisper in the dark where he can pull your legs apart in warning. no—he’s sipping coffee in the staff lounge, sunglasses half-slid down his nose, when utahime walks by and drops it like a nuclear bomb.

“your favorite student’s going on a blind date tonight,” she says with a teasing lilt. “you might lose your little lap bunny.”

the burn in his gut is immediate.

he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t move. doesn’t blink. he just raises the cup to his mouth again, lips curving over the ceramic, smile like a crack in glass.

“you good?” she asks.

“me?” he hums. “always.”

but he’s not. not when he watches the way you walk into lecture fifteen minutes late—bra strap peeking, lip gloss shiny, hair freshly done like you’re trying to fucking kill him.

and you smile at him. that smile. the one that always means trouble. “sorry, professor,” you murmur, breathy and full of fake guilt. “overslept.” his jaw ticks. “overslept or busy texting your mystery date?”

you blink.

you weren’t expecting him to know. that’s cute.

“what?” you laugh, sliding into your seat in the front row like you own him. “someone’s been gossiping, huh?”

“someone’s been sloppy,” he replies, and you freeze for half a second—because there’s a shift in his tone. less playful. more predator.

“i didn’t know you cared.”

he grins, teeth sharp and sweet. “oh, i don’t.”

liar.

he barely makes it through the lecture.

every time you shift in your seat, his mind goes dark. legs spread. knees over his shoulders. your cunt swollen and twitching, leaking down to his tongue while you cry about how full you are. how ruined. how stretched.

but apparently not ruined enough if you’re out there letting strangers buy you dinner. he waits until after class. the hallway clears. he stands by the door, hands in his pockets, sunglasses gone. eyes sharp. you pretend you don’t see him, but your steps slow as you pass, hips swaying like bait.

“office,” he says.

you roll your eyes, playing coy, but your thighs press together. he sees it. you’re wet already. you’ve been wet since he raised his voice during lecture. he shuts the door behind you. doesn’t lock it, but it might as well be. the air tightens around you like a noose.

“you think i don’t know what you’re doing?” he murmurs, stepping close.

“what am i doing, professor?” you ask, head tilted, eyes wide with mock innocence.

“playing games.”

“maybe i am.”

his hand slams on the desk beside your head. you flinch—just a little—and smile up at him like you want to see how far he’ll go. “do you know what that does to me?” he hisses. “hearing someone else is going to get to touch what’s mine?”

you raise a brow. “yours?”

“yeah.” his hand moves to your throat—not tight, not choking, but firm. possessive. his thumb brushes your jaw. “mine. don’t tell me you forgot.”

“you never said i couldn’t.”

he laughs, wild and soft and bitter. “baby, you can’t even cum without me holding your hips down.” your face heats. your lashes flutter. your thighs clench, and he sees it again. he always sees it. “what—gonna fuck the date with my cum still inside you?” he taunts, lips ghosting over yours. “your pussy’s shaped like me, you think he’s gonna know what to do with that? you think he’ll recognize the sound you make when you’re close? the way you tremble?”

“satoru—”

you shouldn’t have said his name.

his mouth is on yours before you finish it. furious, hungry, a kiss like punishment. his tongue slips in and steals every excuse from your mouth.

“strip.”

“someone might come in—”

“then be quick.”

you hop up on the desk, skirt riding high, no panties underneath. his hands are there immediately, fingers spreading your folds, already slick, already begging. “fuck—look at this,” he murmurs, thumb teasing your clit while you squirm. “who got you wet like this, huh? your little blind date?”

“n-no,” you whisper.

“then who?”

“you…”

“say it.”

“you, professor.”

his smirk curls against your thigh. “good girl.”

you gasp when he spits on your cunt, two fingers slipping in, slow and deep. “god, you’re still shaped like me,” he groans, watching the way your walls pulse around his fingers. “i ruin you every time and you still need more. filthy fucking girl.”

“please,” you whimper, hips lifting.

he leans in and bites your thigh, hard enough to mark.

“no begging,” he growls. “you want something? you earn it. tell me you're canceling the date.”

“satoru—”

he slaps your clit, sharp and fast, and you choke on a cry.

“tell me.”

“i'll cancel it! i will—fuck, please—!”

he hums, pleased, dragging your juices across your slit, up your stomach. his fingers curl just right, and you clench down like you never want him to leave.

“that’s better,” he says, kissing your thigh. “my good girl.”

he fucks you with his fingers until you're sobbing his name, clinging to his shirt, and when you cum, he doesn't stop. doesn't let up. he pulls you down to the floor, bends you over the desk, and sinks into you raw.

“look at you,” he moans into your neck. “crying like this cock doesn’t live inside you already. slut.”

“yours—yours—”

“damn right. if i find out you even talked to someone else like this, i’m showing up to your date and fucking you in the bathroom while he waits.”

“satoru—!”

“you like that idea?” he pants, hips pounding. “like the thought of me destroying you where everyone can hear? ruin your reputation like i ruined your body?”

“yes—please—don’t stop—”

he doesn’t. not until he fills you to the brim, holds you tight, whispers against your spine that he loves you too much to let you go. that he’ll make you remember who owns you, every fucking day if he has to.

GETO SUGURU

geto suguru is quieter about it than gojo. where gojo would rage and bark and leave you marked in broad daylight, geto is the kind of man who waits. watches. listens to your excuses like they’re confessions. he’s twenty years your senior, your professor in comparative philosophy, always perfectly pressed in black button-downs and silk ties. calm, unreadable, devastating.

and the moment he finds out from shoko that you’ve got a blind date lined up for friday night, he doesn’t lash out. he doesn’t even frown. he just hums, pours his tea, and murmurs,

“ah. so she wants to be owned by someone else.”

and shoko, who’s always had too good a sense for danger, only raises her brow and says, “you gonna let her?”

“oh, not at all,” he says. “she’ll learn.”

you don’t know he knows. you come to his office hours like you always do, in your oversized hoodie and those dangerous little shorts that barely peek past the hem. knees tucked under you on his leather couch, eyes wide and innocent as you ask for help on your thesis. your thighs are bare. your lip is glossed. and there’s a new tension in the room you don’t recognize until you shut the door.

“lock it,” he says, not looking up from his laptop.

you pause, your stomach twisting. “what?”

“i said lock it. if we’re going to be alone, we ought to have privacy, don’t you think?”

your fingers tremble slightly as they twist the lock. you turn to face him, unsure why he feels different today—why his voice is thicker, why his gaze lingers too long on your thighs.

“something wrong, professor?”

“plenty,” he says, folding his hands in his lap, eyes fixed on you like a hawk. “but let’s start with you. tell me about this little date of yours.”

your mouth dries.

you try to deflect. “who told you that?”

“does it matter?”

you stay quiet.

“you were going to let someone else touch you,” he says, and his voice is soft. unbearably so. “someone else between your legs. someone who doesn’t know how your cunt tightens when you’re scared. someone who’s never had your throat bulging around their cock. tell me—what exactly do you owe this man?”

“i wasn’t gonna sleep with him,” you whisper.

he rises slowly from his chair.

“you think that excuses you?”

his tone is mild, but your thighs clench together on instinct. you feel it immediately—the sharp ache in your core, the phantom throb of memory.

“you think not fucking him is the line?” he continues, walking toward you, each step measured. “so kissing would be fine? letting him buy you food? letting him think you’re available, when you walk around every day stuffed full of my cum?”

your mouth opens to protest, but nothing comes out. he stands over you now, tall and calm and terrifying.

“stand up.”

you do. your legs shake.

“strip.”

you hesitate, but he doesn’t repeat himself. just looks at you like he’s waiting to see whether you’re still worth keeping. your hoodie falls to the floor. your tank top next. your shorts. your bra. you’re bare in seconds, eyes wide and throat dry as his gaze moves over you, slow and thorough.

“good girl,” he murmurs. “at least you remember how to obey.”

he reaches for you. his hands are large and warm and deceptively gentle as they slide down your back, cupping your ass. “this body is mine,” he says, fingers sinking in. “this pussy is mine. and if you ever give so much as a smile to another man again, i will fuck you so thoroughly you’ll limp into lecture with my cum leaking down your legs. do you understand me?”

you nod frantically, breath caught.

“say it.”

“yes, professor—yes, i understand—i’m yours—”

he kisses you then. not sweet, not loving—deep and hot and consuming. his tongue swallows your gasp, his fingers press between your thighs, and you moan when he finds you already wet. “filthy little thing,” he whispers against your lips. “do you even know how you smell? you think he wouldn’t have known the moment he sat next to you that you belong to someone else?”

“i’m sorry—”

“too late.”

he turns you around, pushes you forward over the desk with one hand on your back. the cool wood shocks your skin. his other hand spreads your legs.

“no prep today. you’re going to take me raw and open like the little slut you are.” he unzips his pants. you hear it—the low rustle, the metallic clink, the hiss of breath as his cock slaps against your ass.

and then he pushes in.

“fuck—so tight. you’re always tight,” he groans, sinking inch by inch, slow and brutal. “doesn’t matter how often i fuck you. greedy little cunt always pretends it’s the first time.”

“nghhh—professor—” you cry out, nails clawing at the desk. “too deep—”

“nonsense.” he grips your hips, pulls you back into him until he’s fully seated. “this pussy’s shaped for me. if it hurts, it’s because it’s remembering who it belongs to.” he starts to move. slow, deep thrusts that scrape against your walls, dragging every sound out of your throat. you sob into the wood. he doesn’t stop.

“he would’ve been too soft,” geto murmurs, voice low and cruel. “he wouldn’t have known how to make you scream. wouldn’t have known you need to be taken. broken down. loved in pieces.”

you moan. high and breathless and helpless.

“yours—i’m yours—please—”

“prove it.”

he reaches around and slaps your clit. once. twice. then again, until you’re sobbing with it, hips jerking, cunt fluttering around him like it’s begging. “cum for me,” he says. “right now. show me who this pussy belongs to.”

you scream when it hits. muscles locking, eyes rolling back, your body spasming under him as you cum so hard you nearly collapse. he fucks you through it, relentless.

then he pulls out. flips you over.

“you’re not done.”

he lifts you onto the desk, spreads your legs, and slams back in, face inches from yours. one hand on your throat now. the other cradling your thigh like something precious.

“i’m going to breed you so full of me, you’ll taste it for days.”

“yes—please—need it—”

“fucking slut,” he growls, snapping his hips faster. “do you even know what you’re doing to me? every time you leave, every time you smile at someone else, i want to ruin you.”

his eyes burn into yours—dark, hot, overwhelming.

“mine.”

he cums with a deep groan, pressed tight against you, cock twitching as he empties inside you in thick, hot waves. your name is a curse on his lips, his hips grinding into you even as he spills every drop. he holds you through it, arms firm around your back, forehead pressed to yours.

“you’re not leaving,” he says.

“never,” you whisper.

“you’ll come here every friday instead. knees on the floor. mouth open. or bent over this desk. or tied to the chair. whatever i want.”

“yes—yes, professor—”

he kisses you again, this time slow. reverent.

and when you try to stand, he presses you down with a hand on your belly.

“we’re not finished.”

NANAMI KENTO

nanami kento doesn’t yell. he doesn’t snap, doesn’t lose control. no—he calculates, measures, and when he’s angry, it’s a quiet thing. sharp. surgical. deadly.

he hears about your blind date from a colleague in the economics department. just a harmless comment in the lounge “your favorite little research assistant’s going out friday. hope her date knows what he’s getting into.”

nanami doesn’t react. not then. just adjusts his tie, thanks them for the information, and finishes his coffee.

but something turns in him. something cold.

because you—his girl—were supposed to tell him first.

the rest of the week, he’s painfully polite. unreadable. you don’t even realize he knows.

he still reads over your papers. still offers notes. still lets you curl up in the office armchair while he types, his jacket draped over your legs like always. but he doesn’t touch you. doesn’t kiss you. doesn’t slip his hand under your skirt while murmuring about Kant or market elasticity.

and it’s driving you insane.

friday comes, and you knock on his door before class, expecting the usual. affection. maybe a quiet, breathless fuck before lecture, up against the bookcases while the windows fog.

but when he looks up at you from his papers, you feel it. the distance.

“you look nice,” he says, flatly. “you always get that dressed up for lecture?”

you freeze.

“...you heard.”

“i did.”

you try to explain, but he waves a hand—elegant, firm, final.

“i’m not interested in your excuses,” he says, rising from his seat. he’s taller than you remember when he’s angry. “you knew what we were. what i am to you. and still you thought it acceptable to allow another man the idea of you.”

“kento, it wasn’t like that—”

“then tell me what it was like,” he says, voice low now, eyes dark. “was it innocent? were you simply bored of the way i fuck you so good you cry? was he going to hold your hand while my cum was still dripping out of you?”

your breath stutters.

“get on the desk.”

you blink. “what—now—?”

“i said get on the desk.”

you do, slowly, knees spreading as you sit on the edge. the wood is cold beneath your thighs. your skirt rides up when you move. he watches it happen, expression unreadable.

“take off your panties.”

you slip them off. he catches them in one hand, brings them to his face. inhales.

“still wet,” he murmurs. “but not for him, was it?”

you shake your head. “no, never—just you—”

he steps between your legs, unbuttoning his cuffs. rolling his sleeves up, slow. precise. you know what that means. “put your hands behind your back,” he says. “don’t move them unless i say.”

you obey. trembling.

his fingers trail up your thigh, reach your cunt, already damp and pulsing. he doesn’t praise you. doesn’t tease. just slides two fingers in, curling up until your hips jerk. “you know this body belongs to me,” he says softly. “and still, you wanted to test me. make me jealous.”

“i didn’t—”

“you did,” he cuts in. “and now, you’ll apologize with your body.”

he pulls his fingers out, glistening with slick, and wipes them on your tongue. you suck instinctively, eyes wide and glassy.

“such a good girl when you’re being used,” he says, unbuckling his belt. “i wonder if your date would’ve known what to do with this messy little mouth.” his cock’s hard already—thick, veiny, flushed. he strokes it slowly as he watches you. the room feels hot. too small. full of tension.

“open.”

you do.

he slides in slow, all the way down your throat, until you gag.

“mm. yes. that’s what you’re made for,” he murmurs, one hand in your hair. “that’s what you were always made for.”

he fucks your throat with slow, punishing thrusts, hips rolling forward as you drool down your chin, tears pricking your eyes. “think he’d last this long?” nanami growls, cock hitting the back of your throat over and over. “think he’d know to tap your cheek when you start to panic? think he’d praise you when you take it all like this?”

you choke and sob, eyes locked on his, desperate for forgiveness.

he pulls out suddenly, tilts your chin up, and kisses your spit-slick mouth.

“you don’t get to cum yet,” he says. “lie down.”

he flips you onto your back, presses you flat to the desk. one hand on your sternum to pin you down, the other guiding his cock back to your dripping cunt.

“no prep. no lube. you don’t deserve kindness today.”

he thrusts in rough—deep—full. your back arches, a sob spilling from your lips.

“f-fuck, kento—”

“quiet,” he snaps. “take it.”

he fucks you hard, relentless, his body covering yours, holding you still. your arms are still behind your back. you can’t move. you can’t breathe. all you can do is take it.

“you feel that?” he hisses. “every inch? memorize it. because if you ever dare give someone else your attention again, i will fuck you like this in front of your date. i will make him watch as you cry for my cock.”

“kento—i’m sorry—!”

“you will be.”

he fucks you through your apology, through your cries, until you cum screaming, writhing under him, cunt spasming around his cock.

he doesn’t stop.

he fucks you through it, chasing his own release, and when he cums, it’s deep—hot—thick. he stays inside, hips grinding as if trying to brand you from the inside out.

he leans down, presses a kiss to your temple.

“mine.”

you nod, broken and blissed out.

“say it.”

“yours. only yours. always.”

he pulls out slow. watches his cum leak out of you in a thick white string.

“you’ll clean this desk before you leave.”

“yes, professor.”

he buttons up, straightens his sleeves, and finally—finally—cups your face in both hands. “next time you think about someone else,” he says, soft and serious, “remember how it felt to have me make you forget your own name.” and kiss your forehead like a loving lover he is.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he hears about the date during a smoke break.

not from you. never from you. nah—you’d rather bat your lashes, wear those tight little skirts to lecture, and play dumb like you don’t leave his sheets soaked every thursday after seminar.

it’s one of your friends, the mouthy one with no sense of self-preservation, who lets it slip. “she’s got a date friday night,” she says, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t just toss a lit match onto gasoline. “some guy her cousin set her up with. cute, apparently. tall.”

toji just stares at her, chewing on his cigarette filter, jaw ticking.

“is that so.”

the friend doesn’t even notice how still he goes. how his eyes stop blinking. how the air around him shifts—sharp, tight, violent. he doesn’t go back to lecture that day. he waits. in his office. door unlocked. lights dim. and when you knock—sweet, innocent, clueless—he’s already leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, cigarette smoke curling out the cracked window.

“close the door,” he says.

you do.

you’re smiling when you step in, like always, like you think you’re safe with him.

you’re not.

“heard you’ve got plans friday,” he says, casual.

you blink. “...huh?”

“cute guy. tall. set up by your cousin.”

the smile falters.

“oh. um… how did you—”

“your friend’s got a big fuckin’ mouth,” he says, eyes narrowing. “but i’m glad she does. otherwise i wouldn’t have known my girl’s out here giving other men the idea they got a chance.”

you swallow.

“it’s just dinner, toji—”

“yeah?” he laughs, cruel and quiet. “just dinner? or were you gonna let him take you home after and find out your pussy doesn’t even work for anyone but me?”

you freeze. cheeks flush. thighs clench.

he notices. of course he does.

“strip.”

“we’re in your office—”

“i said strip.”

you do. shaky hands pulling your shirt over your head. skirt sliding down your legs. no bra. no panties.

he raises a brow.

“you were hoping i’d fuck you today, huh?”

you nod.

he stands. walks toward you slow. like a lion. like a man who’s about to ruin something for fun. “on the desk. legs spread.”

you scramble up. lie back. legs trembling as you open them. he grabs your ankles and yanks you forward so hard your back slams into the wood. “look at that,” he murmurs, staring down at your dripping cunt. “already leaking. pathetic.”

“toji—”

“shut up.”

he leans in, mouth dragging over your inner thigh.

“you think he could handle this?” he whispers, lips brushing your pussy lips, breath hot. “you think he’d know what to do when you cry because you need it deep enough to hit your fucking stomach?”

his tongue flicks out. one slow, nasty lick up your slit. you moan.

“nah. he wouldn’t know shit,” he says. “probably cum in his pants just from looking at you.”

he doesn’t eat you like you’re fragile. he devours you like a man starved. spit slick, mouth messy, his tongue bullying your clit while two thick fingers sink in deep and curl—

“nnnhh—fuck—!”

“shut. up.” he growls into your cunt. “this isn’t for you. this is punishment.”

your hands grip the desk so tight your knuckles ache. your moans echo off the walls. his tongue is relentless, fingers fucking you open like he’s carving his name inside you. “gonna remind you,” he pants, licking into you again, “what you belong to. whose cock shaped this pussy.”

you cum once. then twice. your legs tremble. your voice breaks.

he stands. yanks his belt open.

you barely manage to lift your head before he’s already jerking his cock out—hard, heavy, flushed dark and wet at the tip. he doesn’t waste time. just lines up and slams into you in one brutal thrust.

“nghhh—fuck—too much—”

“shut up,” he grits. “take it. you wanted this. dressed like that. fuckin’ around like a dumb little slut. you wanted me mad.” he fucks you hard. brutal. filthy. his hips snapping forward, cock pistoning in and out, wet sounds filling the office louder than your choked sobs. his fingers dig into your hips. he bites your collarbone. he growls into your neck—

“mine. mine. you get that, yeah? this cunt? this body? your moans? mine.”

“yes—yes, toji, yours, only yours—”

he lifts one leg over his shoulder. angle shifting. cock punching so deep you see stars. “you don’t fucking go out with anyone else,” he growls, sweat dripping. “i’ll beat the shit out of him. you hear me? i’ll break his fuckin’ jaw.”

“yes—yes, please—”

you’re close again. so close. sobbing his name, begging him not to stop.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

and in a whisper, soft and broken, he says—

“can’t stand the thought of someone else even looking at you.”

you cum so hard you nearly black out. clenching around him like your body’s apologizing for even thinking about someone else. he cums with a groan, deep and low, spilling inside you with a stuttering thrust, cock buried to the hilt.

he doesn’t move.

just breathes heavy. holds your hips. presses his lips to your cheek like he’s sorry for being so rough—even though you loved it.

you blink up at him, dazed. wrecked. full.

“still think about going on that date?” he murmurs.

you shake your head.

“good girl,” he says, and kisses you again. “now get dressed. i’m driving you home. and you’re staying over.”

“why?”

he smirks. dark. smug. possessive.

“so i can fuck you again every time i remember some other guy thought he had a chance.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

“she’s going out friday,” gojo says on lunch break, deadpan, blue eyes hiding behind his blue glasses as he glance at sukuna who’s passing by. “blind date. someone her cousin set up.”

utahime’s jaw drops. “wait—does sukuna know?”

shoko just snorts. “oh, he’s gonna kill someone.”

he does not kill someone. he waits.

and when you walk into his office after class—hair tied up, skirt short, lip gloss shiny—he doesn’t say hello. doesn’t smirk. doesn’t greet you like the spoiled, cum-dumb princess you are. he just says, voice flat, “so. friday.”

you freeze halfway to the desk. “…what about it?”

his gaze doesn’t leave your face. his hands stay folded in his lap. but his jaw ticks, and when he speaks next, it’s soft.

too soft.

“you really gonna go let some stranger sit across from you like he deserves to breathe your air?”

“it’s not serious—”

“no,” he cuts in, calm but sharp. “serious is when i fuck you against this desk so hard you cry into my tie. this is worse. this is betrayal.”

“ryo—”

he stands.

you take a step back. instinct. survival. but he’s already in front of you, hand at your throat—not tight. not yet.

“let me get this straight,” he murmurs, eyes narrow, voice low and dangerous. “i fuck you every week. sometimes every day. i have you creaming around my cock until you can’t say your own name. i’ve trained this pussy to open for me just from my voice—and you think you’ve got the right to sit pretty at a table with some other guy who’s gonna ask you what your favorite fucking color is?”

you gasp as his grip tightens—still not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who the fuck he is.

“was gonna wear that little red dress, weren’t you?” he growls. “the one that clings to your hips like my hands do. gonna smile at him like you didn’t choke on my cock two nights ago.”

“i wasn’t—i’m not—”

“you’re not what? mine?” he leans in, lips grazing your cheek. “don’t lie.”

you whimper.

he presses you back against the wall, one thigh wedging between yours. you’re already trembling. wet. your panties are useless. “thought maybe you forgot,” he murmurs, dragging his hand down to cup your cunt through your skirt. “thought maybe this slutty little pussy needed a refresher.”

“please—”

“mm. beg better than that, sweetheart.”

he drops to his knees.

on his knees.

your terrifying professor. eyes full of menace. tattoos inked down his arms like warning signs. and he’s already pushing your panties aside, tongue licking into your folds like he’s trying to taste the betrayal out of you. “fuck—look at this,” he mutters, mouth messy already. “she’s crying. like she knows she did something wrong.”

“ryo—fuck—”

he groans, slurping wetly, tongue flicking over your clit before diving back in, fucking you with it. his fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to bruise, pulling you open wider. “you gonna let him see this?” he pants, slick coating his chin. “this greedy, pretty pussy? this pussy that drools just from hearing my voice?”

you shake your head. “no—never—only you—”

“damn right only me.”

he stands. lifts you. throws you over the desk like you weigh nothing. you hear the buckle. the zipper. the low, filthy growl as his cock slaps against your ass. “this pussy’s shaped like me,” he snarls, rubbing the fat tip through your folds. “and now i’m gonna remind it.”

he doesn’t ease in. he slams.

“ah—fuck—!”

“that’s right,” he grits, hips snapping. “take it. take the cock you earned when you signed up for my class just to stare at my hands.” you’re drooling on his papers. the whole desk shakes. he’s balls deep, thick and brutal, fucking you with the rage of a god and the precision of a scholar.

“you think he’d fuck you like this?” sukuna hisses, pulling your hair. “think he’d know how deep you need it? how to hold your hips down when you start running from the stretch?”

“n-no—just you—just you—”

“say it louder.”

“only you—only you, professor—!”

his hand slides down your back. presses between your shoulder blades. pushes you flat. he leans in close, voice in your ear like sin itself. “you even look at another man again, and i’ll fuck you in front of him. bend you over the table and make you apologize with your mouth full.”

“fuck—please—”

“you gonna cum? you think you deserve it?”

“yes—no—fuck, please—”

“beg for it.”

“please—please fill me up—need it, need you—mark me—make it yours—please, professor—” he cums with a snarl, cock twitching deep, hot, thick. so much it spills out as soon as he pulls out, dripping down your thighs, making a fucking mess of your skin and the floor.

and he’s not done.

he flips you over, fingers spreading your legs again.

“we’re doing it again,” he mutters, already getting hard. “i’m gonna fuck you ‘til you forget his name. then i’m gonna make you say mine.”

you’re shaking. breathless. soaked.

but you nod. “yes, professor…”

he smiles, wicked and soft and utterly terrifying.

“good girl. now say goodbye to that date.”

SHIU KONG

he hears it by accident.

he’s leaving the staff meeting early—bored, irritated, fingers twitching from not having his hands on you all week. he cuts through the hallway outside the student café, phone out, when he hears it:

"she’s got that blind date friday," one of your friends says, sipping from a pink thermos. "her cousin set it up. some finance guy—kind of basic, but tall."

the other giggles. "honestly, she needs a break. she’s been acting weird since she started doing research with professor kong. like—head always somewhere else. probably pent-up or something."

he stops walking. dead still.

his thumb taps the side of his phone. once. twice.

then he turns around, expression blank, and walks back to his office with the same precision he uses when writing evaluations that determine entire academic futures. when you arrive at his door, you knock twice, peeking in like nothing’s wrong. like everything’s normal. he’s sitting on the couch. black shirt. collar undone. sleeves rolled. no tie today.

“close it,” he says, voice quiet.

you do.

you turn toward him, already reaching into your bag to pull out notes.

“come here.”

your fingers pause.

“is it about the paper or—”

“here.”

you move to him slowly, sensing it now—that shift. that tightness in the air. the way he won’t quite meet your eyes. he pats the space beside him on the couch. you sit. then he says it. quiet. cruel. calm. “you have a date friday.”

your stomach flips.

“i—i canceled it. i wasn’t even going to go—”

“but you agreed to it.” he turns his head. finally meets your gaze. “you said yes. you planned it. you got dressed in your mirror and thought about someone else seeing you like that. thought about someone else sitting across from you while you were full of me.”

your breath stutters.

“shiu, it didn’t mean anything—”

“you were going to let him think he had a chance,” he says, voice sharper now. “let him smile at you. laugh. maybe offer to walk you home. not knowing this pussy’s been ruined beyond recognition.”

his hand slides up your thigh.

"spread your legs."

you hesitate. “the door—”

he turns to you, and it’s not a look. it’s a warning.

“spread them.”

you do.

he pushes your skirt up. doesn’t remove it. just drags his fingers between your folds, slow and unforgiving. you're already wet.

“you knew i’d find out,” he says. “you fucking knew. and you wanted me to.”

you gasp as he slips two fingers inside you, curling immediately.

“you thought maybe i wouldn’t care? that i’d let you go? let someone else take this tight little cunt and figure out too late it only reacts to my voice?”

“shiu—please—”

“no,” he snaps. “you don’t get to beg yet. i’m not finished talking.”

his fingers fuck you slow, deep, methodical.

your legs shake.

“you think your blind date would know how to hold you like this?” he says, voice softer, almost amused. “how to curl his fingers just right so you’re dripping before you even get his pants off?”

you whimper.

“he wouldn’t know you need to be told you’re a good girl when you’re close. wouldn’t know how much pressure it takes to make you cry.” he pulls his hand away. grabs your chin. forces you to look at him. “get on your knees.”

you drop immediately.

he stands, undoing his belt with steady hands.

his cock is already hard—thick, flushed, leaking.

“open your mouth,” he murmurs. “show me what’s mine.”

you do.

he slides in with a slow, possessive thrust, groaning low when your lips wrap around him.

“fuck, just like that,” he mutters. “this mouth was made for me.”

he fucks your mouth slow at first. then deeper. rougher. holding your head still, eyes dark with something unreadable. “you were gonna let him buy you dinner,” he pants. “while you’re here gagging on me. what the fuck were you thinking, huh?”

you try to respond, and he laughs. breathless. bitter.

“don’t talk. swallow.”

he cums down your throat with a low growl, hips twitching, cock pulsing, his fingers buried in your hair. he doesn’t pull out until he’s sure you’ve taken every drop. even then—he holds you there. breathing hard. and then he says, soft, “friday, you’ll be here. that same time. on your back.”

he cups your cheek.

“you’ll make it up to me properly. because if i ever hear that someone else even looked at you like they could have you—”

his thumb drags across your lips. “—i’ll make sure the next time i fuck you, it’s somewhere they can hear.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he’d heard it during a staff lounge conversation, casual and cutting all at once.

“your favorite’s going on a blind date friday,” one of the adjuncts said with a chuckle, biting into a biscotti. “cousin set it up. cute guy, apparently. she deserves a break—bet she’s been stressed with finals.”

hiromi hadn’t looked up from his espresso. hadn’t said a word.

just stared into the dark liquid like it was reflecting the exact shape of your betrayal.

“a break,” he repeated softly, as if tasting the word on his tongue like it was poison.

“yes,” he added, standing, “perhaps i should offer her one myself.”

you step into his office later that day, papers in hand, expecting to go over your thesis on moral relativism and postmodern legal structures.

you don’t expect to find him already seated at his desk like a judge behind a bench—robe replaced with a charcoal suit, tie loosened, gold pen resting on his fingers like a gavel waiting to drop.

“professor?” you say softly.

he doesn’t answer. just gestures to the chair across from him.

“sit.”

you do.

“you’re being tried,” he says.

“tried for what?”

he opens a folder on the desk and flips a page with deliberate care.

“charges,” he says, eyes not leaving the paper, “include deception, abandonment of contract, and attempted trespassing of personal property.”

“personal property—”

“my cock,” he clarifies, calm as ever.

you blink. your mouth opens.

but nothing comes out except, “i canceled the date.”

“after accepting it. after planning it. after entertaining the idea of another man—an outsider, an intruder—touching what’s been shaped by me.”

you cross your arms. “i didn’t sleep with him. nothing happened.”

he finally looks up.

and smiles.

“you think penetration is the only act that counts in my courtroom?”

he stands. paces slowly behind you. voice steady.

“tell me, did you pick an outfit? something tight, something pretty? did you wear perfume? maybe that gloss you like, the one i can taste for hours after i’ve finished with you?”

“i—”

“answer, counselor.”

“…yes,” you whisper.

“good,” he says. “we’re making progress.”

he walks back in front of you, palms flat on the desk, leaning in close.

“defendant, please rise.”

you stand, nervous. throat dry.

“remove your shirt.”

“professor—”

“you want leniency? cooperate.”

you unbutton. let it fall off your shoulders.

“bra.”

you hesitate.

he raises an eyebrow. “i can add obstruction to the list.” you unclasp it. drop it. his eyes drag down your chest with the hunger of a starving man hiding behind courtroom procedure. “now,” he murmurs, circling you again, “state your defense. clearly. and convincingly.”

you clear your throat.

“i didn’t mean to betray you. it wasn’t real. i didn’t want him. i canceled. i only want you.”

“and yet your actions—”

“do not match the intention,” you finish. “but your honor, if we judged solely by intention, half the world would be in prison.”

he pauses.

smiles.

"touche."

then he grabs your waist and lifts you onto his desk like you weigh nothing. “but,” he says, stepping between your legs, hands sliding up your thighs, “my laws are stricter.”

“what are my sentencing options?” you whisper, breath catching as his fingers drag closer to your soaked cunt. “option one,” he says, slipping two fingers inside you without warning, “i fuck you until you cry.”

you gasp, hips jerking.

“option two,” he continues, curling them deep, “i fuck you until you forget what dating even means.”

“and option three?” you moan.

he smirks.

“both.”

his mouth crashes into yours—hot, punishing, possessive. he tastes like espresso and judgment. you cling to his shoulders, thighs trembling as he fucks you with his fingers, slow and rough. “what’s this?” he growls. “tight. fluttering. wet. evidence suggests you like being punished.”

“i do—fuck—i do—”

he pulls back.

undoes his belt.

“bend over the desk. court is now in recess.”

you turn, arching for him, breath shaky.

his cock slides in deep—all the way.

you scream.

he grunts, hands gripping your hips. pace brutal.

“this pussy,” he pants, thrusting hard, “takes me like it was custom-built. you think someone else could manage this? think he’d know how to stroke this spot—” he slams in. “—or what you sound like when you’re just about to fall apart?”

you’re crying.

not from pain. from overstimulation. from being seen. known. owned.

“guilty,” he hisses, fucking you through it.

“guilty—yes—i’m guilty—”

he cums deep, cock twitching as he fills you.

he leans over you, lips brushing your ear.

“sentence: mine. indefinitely.”

you nod, sobbing into the desk.

he kisses your shoulder.

“case closed.”

[andhumanslovedstories]

There was an interesting situation at work recently. I'm gonna keep it vague for privacy, but basically the husband of a patient threatened to shoot hospital employees after he perceived they were ignoring his wife's situation. Which, looking at the case, people were like, yeah, this patient was in prolonged discomfort and had delayed care over multiple shifts due to factors that weren't malicious but were careless. Basically, the task that would have helped this patient was classic "third thing on your to do list." It had to be done, but it didn't need to be done urgently. The impact of not doing this task likely wouldn't be felt on your shift. The work of doing this task would require the coordination of a couple different people. Very easy to just keep pushing it back, and because it wasn't an emergency (until it was), it just kept being pushed back.

You could do a root-cause analysis of the whole thing (and we have) to really break down what happened, but ultimately the effect was the same as if the neglect had been malicious. I'm sympathetic to the husband, as were a lot of people in this situation, because, yes, hospital staff dropped the ball in a way that meant the patient was in unnecessary pain and discomfort with delay of care for over a day, despite multiple requests from patient and family to address the situation. The husband reacted emotionally to a situation where he'd felt helpless and ignored. Institutional neglect ground away at him until he verbally snapped.

And the way he snapped was to tell staff, "I'm going to come back with a gun and shoot you all for what you've done." Which is about as explicit a threat as you can get. Does he get to keep visiting the hospital after that? How do we be fair to him, to the patient, and to the staff? He probably didn't mean it. Right? But how do you ignore a statement like that? If he does come back and commit a shooting, how will you justify ignoring his threat? But does one sentence said at an emotional breaking point define him? How much more traumatic are we going to make this hospital stay?

A couple years back, I worked on a floor a few hours after a patient had been escorted away for inappropriate behavior--by the way, you can't imagine how inappropriate the behavior has to be for us to do that. I have never seen another case like this. That patient said he was going to come back with a gun and shoot nurses that he identified by name. This didn't come to pass. Whether that was because the patient didn't mean it or changed his mind or was prevented or simply was not mentally coordinated enough to follow through on the plan, I don't know. I do know that shift fucking sucked. I remember the charge nurse telling me that it wasn't our jobs to die for our patients. If there was shooting, she told me to run.

There was another situation recently involving a patient in restraints. I despise restraints. I think the closest legitimate use for them is in ICUs for stopping delirious patients from ripping out their ventilators, and that should still be a last resort. I discontinue restraints whenever I inherit them, and I am very good at fixing problems before restraint seem like the only solution. Having said that, I work in a hospital that uses restraints, and so I am complicit in their use. Recently I walked into a situation involving restraints with zero context for what was happening, just that there was a security situation involving a patient who had been deemed for some reason to lack capacity to make medical decisions. They were on a court hold and a surrogate med override, which means they cannot refuse certain medications. The whole situation was horrible, and I've spent the days since it happened thinking about every way I personally failed that patient and what to do different next time.

At one point, the patient called one of the nurses a bitch, and the nurse said, "hey cmon, that's not nice," and the patient replied, "if you were in hell, would you call the devil a nice name?" And yeah! Fair! It is insane to expect people who are actively being denied their autonomy to be polite to us as we do it.

Then there was another patient on the behavioral health floor who got put in seclusion. It's so frustrating, by the way, that staff put them in seclusion because it would have been extremely easy to avoid escalating the situation to the point that it got to. But the situation did escalate, and by the time the patient was locked in a seclusion room, they were shouting slurs and kicking the walls. Other patients were scared of the patient even when they were calm because the patient talked endlessly about guns, poisons, bombs, etc. When I checked in with the patient in the seclusion room, they called me a cog in a fascist machine just following orders. And I was like, yeah. Fair.

Another patient: one night when I was charge nurse, I replied to a security situation where a patient trapped a staff member in the room and tried to choke her. The staff member escaped unharmed. She told me later that the patient had been verbally aggressive to her all day, but she hadn't told anyone because she knew he was having a bad day, she didn't want to get him in trouble, and she didn't think anything was actually going to happen. She said, "Patients are mean all the time."

And another case: I had a different patient with the ultimate combination of factors for violent agitation--confused, needed a translator, was hard of hearing so the translator was of little use, in pain, feverish, scared, withdrawing from alcohol, hadn't slept in two days, separated from his caregiver who had also just been hospitalized--the whole shebang. He shouted at us that we were human trafficking him and could not be reoriented to where he actually was or that he was sick. I tried all my usual methods of deescalation, which I am typically very good at. I could not get him to calm down. He had a hospital bed where the headboard pulls out so you can use it as a brace during compressions. He ripped that out and threw it at the window, trying to shatter the glass. At that point, with the permission of his medical surrogate and with help from security, I forcibly gave him IV medication for agitation and withdrawal. He slept all night with a sitter at his bedside to monitor him. I pondered when medication passed over the line into chemical restraint, but I stand by the decisions I made that shift.

Last one: I had a different patient who was dying who had a child with a warrant out for arrest. We didn't know for what, and no one investigated further because no one wanted to find out anything that might prevent this person from visiting his dying parent. Obviously, "warrant for arrest" could mean literally anything, although it was significant enough that security was aware of the situation and wanted us aware as well, but I was struck by how proactively the staff protected his visitation rights and extended him grace. Everyone was very aware of how easily the wrong word could start a process that would result in a parent and child losing the chance to say goodbye to each other.

In the case of the husband who threatened a mass shooting, you'd be surprised how many of the staff advocated for him to keep all visitation rights. After all, the patient wanted him there.

Violence--verbal, physical, active, passive, institutional, direct, inadvertent, malicious--pervades the hospital. It begets itself. You provoke people into violence, and then use that violence to justify why you must do actions that further provoke them. And also people are not helpless victims of circumstance, mindlessly reacting to whatever is the most noxious stimuli. But also we aren't not that. You have to interrupt the cycle somewhere. I think grace is one of the most powerful things we can give each other. I also think people own guns. Institutions have enormous overt and covert power that can feel impossible to resist, and they are made up of people with necks you can wring, and those people are the agents of that unstoppable power, and those people don't have unlimited agency and make choices every day about how and when to exercise it. We'll never solve this. You literally have to think about it forever, each and every time, and honor each success and failure by learning something new for the next inevitable moral dilemma that'll be along any minute now and is probably already here.

[fic-girlie]

Can you write a fic where reader and Joel and reader are walked in on while having sex? Thought about them being in an established relationship and she goes to visit him when he is working at the office at Tommy and Maria's. It's innocent enough at first, just wanting to hand him some coffee and make sure he's not overworking himself. A few kisses turn into a make out session and soon enough Joel's fucking her on his work desk lol. Stuff is pretty heated when Tommy walks in on them. His reaction is up to you, really, but I think he'd be mad at first, saying how he could be walking in with Benji and see that. But I think afterwards he would never let Joel live that down lol always teasing him and making dirty comments every time he cans

Caught in the act

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: A surprise visit to Joel’s office turns hot fast—until Tommy walks in. Warnings: established relationship, explicit smut (+18), language, semi-public sex, softdom!Joel, unprotected sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, desperate Joel, breeding kink? (kinda), interruption, teasing, Joel being embarrassed, Tommy being a menace

The air outside is brisk enough to nip at your skin, but inside the small office, it’s warmer—familiar. A little too quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes when someone’s been stuck in their head too long. You don’t knock. Joel told you not to, more than once, said you never needed to announce yourself. And besides, you can already see him through the glass.

He’s seated at the desk, half-shadowed by the slats of late sunlight cutting through the blinds. Shoulders hunched, brow furrowed. A pencil rests in his hand, scribbling something over a worn notebook, while another stack of paperwork looms to the side. You can just make out the twitch of his jaw as he concentrates, the slow tension in his arm.

You hate seeing him like this. Stuck behind numbers, repairs, shifts, rotations—every little thing Jackson leans on him for. You know he’s proud to be useful here, to have a place. But when his name’s not on the rotation list, Joel finds a way to overfill the empty hours.

Your boots are soft against the floorboards as you walk in. He doesn’t notice at first, too absorbed in whatever notes he’s making. You step closer, then lean down and set the still-steaming cup of coffee near his elbow.

"Figured you could use this."

Joel’s head lifts slowly, pencil pausing mid-sentence. That line between his brows softens the second he sees you, like the weight of his thoughts sloughs off in a single glance.

"Well, look at you," he murmurs, lips tugging into a grin that’s lopsided and warm. "Ain’t you the prettiest damn thing I’ve seen all day."

You laugh quietly, nudging his arm. “You say that even when I bring you bad coffee.”

"This ain’t bad." He lifts the mug and takes a long sip, then hums low. “It’s you bringin’ it that makes it good.”

The compliment lands heavier than you expect, settling warm in your chest. His voice is scratchy—he’s been talking too little today, you can tell—and his eyes linger on you longer than they should for someone still technically on the clock.

“You been here long?” you ask, brushing a few stray papers aside to sit on the edge of his desk.

He leans back in the chair, nodding. “Since early. Got caught up in some generator schedules, then Tommy asked me to double-check the patrol rotation list again. Just wanted a quiet space to think.”

You raise a brow. “So naturally you buried yourself in half the town’s logistics.”

His grin returns, smaller this time. “Keeps me outta trouble.”

You hum, letting your fingers trail over the edge of the desk. “Well. I came to make sure you were still breathing. Coffee’s step one.”

His gaze drops, flicks from your lips to your thighs, then slowly back up again.

"And what’s step two, sweetheart?"

Your breath catches slightly. There’s heat behind those words, slow and steady, the kind that creeps up on you until you’re already burning.

“I guess that depends on what you need,” you say softly, reaching out to smooth a hand over his shoulder. “You’ve been in here so long, figured you might be getting a little…tense.”

His smile fades into something darker, quieter. His hand comes up, fingers brushing the outside of your knee, dragging slowly upward until he reaches the bare skin where your skirt hitches slightly.

“I’m always tense, darlin’. And you know exactly how to make it worse.”

Your breath hitches again.

Joel pushes back the chair just enough to part your knees, sliding himself between them until your thighs bracket his hips. His hands are warm and rough on your legs, thumbs stroking absently against the soft skin there. The room suddenly feels smaller, the afternoon light slanting over the desk and catching in the flecks of grey in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes don’t leave yours.

“You wear this skirt for me?” he murmurs.

Your lips part, heartbeat fluttering.

He smirks faintly. “Yeah. I know you did.”

His fingers dig in slightly, tugging your hips forward so you have no choice but to lean into him, your chest brushing his. He tilts his head, nose brushing yours, lips barely grazing yours as he speaks.

“You walk in here all sweet, bringin’ me coffee, sittin’ on my desk like a little temptation…and now you expect me to keep workin’?”

You feel his breath on your mouth, the way his voice rumbles low in his chest.

“Joel…”

“Mm?” His hand glides higher, underneath the hem of your skirt, fingers teasing over the soft lace of your panties.

"You gonna tell me you didn’t come here hopin’ for this?"

You can’t answer. Not when his thumb strokes slowly between your thighs, not when his other hand cradles the back of your neck and pulls your mouth to his. The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. It turns hungry. Desperate. His mouth opens against yours, tongue sliding deep as you clutch the fabric of his flannel shirt in both hands.

He groans into the kiss. “You got no idea what you do to me.”

You gasp as he pulls back just enough to flip you around and push you gently down against the desk, your palms bracing against the wood.

“Joel—” you start, breath catching.

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs. “Gonna make you feel good. Right here. Just like this.”

He pushes your skirt up over your hips, and you hear the soft metallic sound of his belt unbuckling, the low rasp of a zipper. Then his hand smooths over your ass and squeezes, rough and firm.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, voice almost reverent while pulling the lace aside. “Look at this fuckin’ view. Bent over my desk. You know how crazy you make me?”

Your lips part, the heat between your thighs pulsing with anticipation.

He leans over your back, mouth brushing your ear. “You stay quiet now. Wouldn’t wanna get caught…”

His hips press forward in one long, hungry stroke, and your body opens for him like it was made to. You feel the slow drag of him, thick and perfect, and your hands brace against the desk as you exhale a moan that’s half relief, half disbelief at just how good he feels.

Joel groans low behind you, voice all gravel and heat. “Jesus Christ, baby…”

He sinks deeper, hips flush with your ass, one large hand steady on your lower back. The other slides up your spine, palm spreading wide between your shoulder blades, grounding you there. Holding you still. His.

“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he murmurs, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “You—bent over my desk, beggin’ for it.”

“I wasn’t begging,” you whisper, breathless.

“Not yet,” he mutters, pulling out slowly—too slowly—then slamming back in, hard enough to jolt your hips against the edge of the desk.

You gasp, nails scraping the wood.

“There it is,” he growls, hips snapping forward again. “That little sound you make when I get you deep.”

Your skirt’s bunched around your waist, his flannel shirt brushing your back with every thrust, the thick heat of his body pressing over you. Every movement drives his cock deeper, fills you more completely than should be possible.

And the sounds—God, the sounds—wet and rhythmic, the slap of skin on skin, the rough breaths against your ear, the low groan he lets out every time you clench around him.

“You feel that?” he pants. “Feel how soaked you are for me? Feel how deep I go?”

You nod against the desk, mouth parted, eyes rolling.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to leave.” He fucks you harder, deeper. “You want me to stay right there, huh? Stuff you full?”

“Joel,” you gasp, voice half-broken.

He slows just enough to grind in deep, hips circling with filthy precision. You sob out a moan, knees trembling.

“That’s it,” he whispers, lips against your neck. “Take it. Just like that. Take every goddamn inch.”

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, anything, but he’s relentless. His hands slide under your blouse, cupping your breasts through the fabric. He pinches your nipples just hard enough to make you whimper.

“Thought I was gonna behave,” he mutters. “Thought I could keep my hands off you for five fuckin’ minutes.”

“You didn’t even last one.”

“’Cause you walked in here like a fuckin’ dream,” he snarls. “You know what you do to me, baby? You know how hard it is to stay good when you look at me with those fuckin’ eyes?”

His teeth graze your shoulder, and his pace quickens, hips pistoning into you with purpose. Each thrust is brutal, delicious, deep enough to knock every coherent thought from your head.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he growls. “Right here. Right on this desk.”

“Joel,” you cry out again, eyes squeezed shut.

“Yeah, that’s right. Say my name, baby. Let the whole damn building know who’s fuckin’ you this good.”

You’re close. So close it hurts. Your thighs are shaking, body coiled tight, nerve endings screaming.

And Joel knows it.

“You’re gettin’ close, ain’t you?” he pants. “I can feel it. You gonna come for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“You gonna come all over my cock while I fuck you in my office like some dirty little secret?”

Your head nods frantically. “Please—please—Joel—”

He growls again, slamming into you, every inch of him thick and hot and perfect. His hand leaves your breast to slide down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, filthy circles.

“Let go for me,” he whispers. “Come for me, baby. Show me how good I fuck you.”

That’s all it takes.

You shatter around him, crying out into the crook of your elbow, body clenching so hard it pulls a strangled groan from his chest. He doesn’t stop—keeps fucking you through it, chasing his own high while your body trembles beneath him.

“Fuck, baby—fuck, I’m gonna—” His voice breaks. “Where do you want it? Tell me.”

You manage a breathless, “Inside.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ—”

Joel drives into you with a deep, guttural sound and spills into you, cock twitching as he presses in to the hilt. His hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, forehead pressed to your back, his body shaking with the force of it.

For a moment, the only sound is the both of you breathing—heavy, ragged, stunned.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Joel’s hands slide down your sides, gentler now. His lips press a kiss between your shoulder blades. “You okay, darlin’?”

You nod against the desk, body still quaking. “Holy shit, Joel.”

He laughs, low and wrecked, still buried deep inside you.

“Yeah,” he says. “Holy shit is right.”

You shift slightly, and he hisses as you tighten around him.

“Don’t move yet,” he murmurs. “Just—stay there a minute. Let me enjoy this.”

You smile, eyes closed. “This was not what I had in mind when I brought you coffee.”

He kisses your shoulder again. “Best coffee break of my life.”

——

Joel’s still inside you, breathing heavy against your back, hands soft now, skimming your waist with that same reverence he always shows when it’s just the two of you. He presses a slow kiss to your spine, murmuring something warm and low that you’re too blissed-out to register.

And then, the office door swings open with a clang.

You freeze.

Joel goes rigid behind you.

And Tommy’s voice—sharp, casual, too damn close—cuts into the air like a gunshot.

“Hey, Joel, you seen the new—”

He stops.

The silence is deafening.

Your face flames hotter than the summer sun outside Jackson. You’re still bent over Joel’s desk, skirt hitched up around your hips, his body pressed flush behind you, still inside you.

Joel’s hand flies to your waist, yanking you up as fast as he can manage without slipping out. You let out a startled gasp as he drags you back against his chest, his other arm grabbing for a half-folded blanket on the back of his chair and yanking it around you both.

Tommy, eyes wide and mouth already twisting, takes a full two seconds before he spins away, palm up like he can block out the memory.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Joel!”

You bury your face in your hands, body still shaking—but not from the orgasm anymore.

Joel lets out a grunt that sounds somewhere between panic and misery. He’s still hard inside you, still holding you as if that will somehow hide what Tommy has very, very clearly seen.

You can hear the shuffle of Tommy’s boots as he turns again—just slightly, like he’s tempted to shout more but not quite brave enough to face what he just walked in on.

“Are you serious right now? In the damn office? You couldn’t wait till you got home like a normal person?”

Joel grits his teeth, voice tight with humiliation. “Tommy. Get the fuck out.”

“I am out!” he snaps, though he’s still somewhere in the doorway. “But Jesus, I coulda walked in with Benji. You think I wanna explain to my six-year-old why his uncle’s pants are around his fuckin’ ankles?!”

You peek over Joel’s shoulder, heart pounding in your chest. Tommy’s got his hand shielding his eyes, but his ears are beet red.

Joel lets out a breath like it’s the only thing keeping him from exploding. His voice is a warning growl now. “Close the door.”

Tommy huffs—muttering a string of curses as he finally slams the door shut.

The silence returns. This time, thick with mortification.

Joel lets his head fall against your shoulder, arms still tight around you.

“Goddamn,” he breathes.

You let out a slow, shaky breath. “That… wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Darlin’, I swear—” Joel leans in, pressing his forehead to the side of your face. “I would’ve rather walked through a horde of clickers buck-naked than have my brother see my bare ass in the office.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. It bubbles out of you suddenly, helpless and wild, like the only possible reaction to something this deeply, painfully awkward.

Joel groans. “Don’t. Don’t you dare laugh.”

“You said clickers,” you giggle, gasping for air. “Oh my God. I’m never showing my face in that house again.”

He groans again, gently pulling out of you at last, guiding you toward the edge of the desk with careful hands. You fumble with your skirt while he tucks himself away with a speed born of pure panic.

“Think he saw—?” you start.

“He saw everything, sweetheart.”

You groan. “I want to die.”

Joel grabs a ragged tissue from his drawer and mutters, “Don’t worry. I’ll die first. He’s never gonna let this go.”

You’re both still fixing yourselves when Joel suddenly straightens, tense again. “Shit. Shit. I think he’s still out there.”

“Joel,” you whisper, wide-eyed. “Don’t open the—”

Too late. Joel pulls open the door.

And Tommy’s right there, arms crossed, a look on his face that says he’s ready.

“Enjoy your ‘paperwork’?” he says with a slow grin.

Joel slams the door again with a grunt, but Tommy’s voice keeps going, loud and unforgiving through the wood.

“I mean, I knew you were settlin’ into your role here, but damn, Joel. Didn’t know Jackson’s new project was breakin’ in the office furniture.”

Joel runs a hand over his face and groans. “I hate him.”

You snort again, biting your lip as you try to smooth your hair down.

“You know I have to tell Maria,” Tommy calls, practically laughing now. “She’ll want to steam clean the desk, probably with holy water.”

Joel groans so loud it echoes.

“Do not tell her,” he shouts back.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t tell her. I’ll just hint. ‘Course, she’s smart enough to put it together once she hears who was moanin’ loud enough to echo off the water tower.”

You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from howling.

“Go away, Tommy!” Joel yells, glaring at the door like he could will his brother out of existence.

“Can’t! Got work to do,” Tommy says, chipper now. “Just gimme five minutes to wipe your handprints off the edge of the desk—oh wait, I can’t, because you were balls deep in—”

Joel lunges for the door.

You catch his arm, laughing so hard you’re doubled over, tears in your eyes. “Joel. Joel. It’s not worth the jail time.”

He glares at the door. “He’s dead to me.”

Tommy’s already walking off down the hall, calling out one final jab as his voice fades: “You better Lysol everything!”

The silence settles once more.

You glance at Joel. His face is red, his jaw tight.

But his eyes flick to yours—and slowly, his expression shifts. A reluctant smile curves his mouth.

“You think this is funny?” he asks, stepping closer.

You shrug, still breathless. “A little.”

He grabs your waist, pulling you against him. “You know I’m never gonna live this down, right? Every damn council meeting, he’s gonna bring this up. Every cookout. Every time I sit at my own damn desk.”

“Guess we’ll have to find a new one to christen,” you whisper.

Joel groans again—but this time, there’s heat behind it. He kisses you once, slow and deep.

Then he smirks.

“Next time, door stays locked.”

[reissancesstuff]

“we’re not gonna steal a baby, satoru.”

genre: fluff, domestic softness, comedy, future family teasing

it starts with yuuji showing up at your shared apartment door looking absolutely stressed.

he’s got a three-year-old girl in his arms—soft pigtails, sparkly shoes, and big doe eyes blinking curiously at you.

“hi! uh, this is kira—my niece. i’m babysitting,” he says, and you raise an eyebrow just as satoru pokes his head out from the kitchen.

“adorable,” you say. “what’s the catch?”

“i just got a mission,” yuuji sighs. “one that doesn’t involve toddlers. can you help me out?”

before he even finishes, you’re already crouching down with a smile, cooing at the little girl.

“hi there, princess,” you grin, watching her peek from behind yuuji’s shoulder. “you wanna stay with me for a little while?”

kira nods shyly.

satoru leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, amusement lighting up his face. “you’re really volunteering for this?”

you shoot him a look. “you fight curses. i babysit. balance.”

—

about thirty minutes later, you’re seated on the living room floor, kira climbing over couch cushions like they’re a castle. her laughter fills the room like sunshine, and you can’t stop smiling, encouraging her imaginary quests and dramatic tumbles.

“you’re really good with kids,” satoru comments, flopping down on the couch nearby. his blindfold is pushed up onto his forehead, his silver-white lashes catching the light as he watches you with a rare softness in his expression.

you glance over your shoulder. “you could try playing with us, you know.”

“i’m not great with tiny humans,” he shrugs.

“you’re literally the biggest child here.”

he opens his mouth to retort, but then kira runs right up to him, placing her hands on his knees.

“up?” she asks sweetly.

and you just grin.

“come on, satoru,” you tease. “you’re not gonna say no to her, are you?”

he groans, dramatic. “fine. but only because you asked.”

you watch him lift kira into his lap—she fits so easily against him, curling into his chest like a little kitten. she starts babbling, little nonsense phrases that mean absolutely nothing, one of her small hands gripping his shirt while the other pats his chest with purpose.

“what’s she saying?” satoru mumbles, confused.

“absolutely no clue,” you laugh. “but she seems to like you.”

“she’s got taste.”

then—kira giggles, grabbing both sides of his face in her tiny hands and squishing his cheeks.

satoru freezes.

you melt.

the sight of him—six-foot-something, strongest sorcerer, smug menace—reduced to a wide-eyed babysitter with a toddler squishing his face is too much to handle.

so you do what any sane person would do.

you snap a photo.

click.

he blinks. “did you just—?”

“i’m gonna set it as my lockscreen,” you smirk.

—

eventually, yuuji returns. a little worn out, but clearly relieved to find kira unharmed and happily playing tea party with you and satoru.

“thanks so much,” he says, scooping kira into his arms. she yawns, curling into him instantly.

you kiss the top of her head gently. “bye, kira. come visit again.”

and just like that, they’re off—walking down the hallway, yuuji carrying her with a soft hum under his breath.

the apartment grows quiet.

megumi and nobara are on the floor finishing the snacks (where did they even come from?), and you’re tidying up the cushion chaos when satoru suddenly speaks.

“i want that.”

you pause. “…want what?”

he’s standing by the window, watching the hall. his voice is casual, but you catch the way his fingers twitch at his sides.

“that.” he points, and you follow his gaze—yuuji walking away, kira in his arms, her small head tucked against his shoulder.

you raise an eyebrow. “we’re not gonna steal a baby, satoru.”

he turns to you, grinning.

“we’re not gonna steal one.” he takes a step closer, that signature glint in his eyes. “we’re gonna make one.”

you open your mouth.

megumi and nobara choke.

“why are you guys having a family plan in front of us?!” megumi cries, looking genuinely distressed.

nobara covers her face. “i’m too young to be an aunt.”

you ignore them, face warm, staring at satoru’s smug little smile.

“you’re serious?”

he leans in, his hand brushing yours.

“as serious as i’ve ever been,” he whispers. “you, me, little versions of us wreaking havoc.”

“we already have yuuji for that,” you mutter, heart skipping a beat anyway.

“yeah, but this one would have your eyes,” he says, thumb gently stroking over your knuckles. “and hopefully not my sugar addiction.”

you look at him—really look—and for once, he isn’t joking. not entirely. he’s soft. earnest. hopeful.

you smile.

“let’s talk about it over dinner,” you say.

he grins, slipping his arm around your waist.

“as long as i’m dessert.”

megumi groans audibly. “i’m leaving.”

nobara is already halfway out the door.

and satoru?

he just presses a kiss to your cheek and whispers, “ours is gonna be cuter than kira.”

you roll your eyes—but you don’t disagree.

[lovelivision]

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎.❝ DREAMS COME TRUE ❞

･ ⟢ ⋮ summary. . . having a sex dream about your best friend is incredibly embarrassing but when he drags the information out of you and delivers something better than your dreams, it's hard to stay feeling that way. . .

.pairing﹒ꕀ. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ gojo satoru / reader‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎wc.⁀⊹ 9.5k

warnings.ᐟ.ᐟ 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, dirty talk, dry humping, cunnilingus, biting, fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, cum eating, manhandling, big dick gojo, tease!gojo, pussy drunk gojo, obsessive!gojo (like the tinniest bit), afab!reader, no pronouns used, that's all !!

Having a sex dream about your best friend – Gojo Satoru – was not on your bingo card for this year but it happened and the result of it is you avoiding any and all eye contact with him. This would be significantly easier if he wasn’t always hanging around you, it would also be easier if his favourite pastime wasn’t invading your personal space.

Your odd behaviour must’ve reached a breaking point for him because he’s sat next to you on your couch, pouting out, “Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not,” you deny despite your very obvious weird behaviour, still not properly looking at him.

Suddenly, his head is on your lap, eyes analysing your reaction to him, “You’re a bad liar.”

“Wha– What are you doing?” He has you fumbling and it only embarrasses you further. “Get off me.”

“Tell me why you’ve been avoiding me or I’ll literally never get off you, in fact… I will only get closer,” one of his hands moves to grab at your waist but you slap him away.

His head weighted on your thighs has you remembering your explicit dream of him and you can’t help but grow a few degrees warmer in temperature. “I can’t tell you.”

Gojo frowns at that and you hate how you’re noticing just how attractive he is even though he’s growing annoyed, “It involves me directly but you can’t tell me?”

“That’s right,” you cement, like it shouldn’t even be an issue.

He sits up again and stares at you dead on, “Tell me or I’ll tell all our friends about… the incident.”

A small breath of disbelief leaving you, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” his eyes stern, he’s completely serious.

You try bargaining, “It’s not that deep, Satoru… give me another week or two and I’ll be completely over it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“So, you’re blackmailing me?!”

“I wouldn’t call it that, that’s such an ugly word,” he shakes his head.

Your brow raises at him, “What would you call it then?”

“I don’t know but not that,” he shrugs easily.

“You’re so annoying, I can’t believe I even–” you cut yourself off, realising you were about to freely give away that you couldn’t believe you had a sex dream about him. It’s annoying that it was such a good dream too because he’s so annoying in real life.

Despite you stopping yourself, he clings to your words, “‘You can’t believe you even’ what?”

Playing dumb is your only defence but to be fair, you aren’t entirely convinced you’re playing anymore, “I don’t know.”

He stares at you for a moment before speaking again, “Okay, well, I’m calling it blackmail now, I’m officially blackmailing you.”

“Evil, evil man,” you accuse.

He motions at himself with his hands, dismissing your words, “Mhm, now tell ‘Toru all your problems.”

“Ew,” you grimace at him, “that was almost as bad as when you referred to yourself as ‘daddy’.”

Smirk on his face at your response, “Would you prefer that? I didn’t know you were into–”

“–I said almost as bad!”

“Sure, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “now tell me what’s going on, I won’t let you wiggle your way out of the main issue at hand.”

“Fine,” you groan, giving in, “but you have to promise to not be weird or make it a big deal.”

His head tilts at you, “What? Like you mean how you’ve been doing?”

“Just promise, stupid,” you grumble at him.

“I promise,” he pauses, “sort of.”

“Seriously?”

“I said I promise, now come on,” he leans in, ready to listen, “lay it on me.”

Ignoring his giddy attitude, you take in a deep breath before carefully letting it out, “Well… the other night, I was sleeping–”

“–Truly groundbreaking stuff.”

“Don’t interrupt me or I will never tell you,” you glare at him.

“My bad,” he raises his hands in surrender.

“Anyways,” your heart is hammering in your chest because it’s so embarrassing to be looking at him as you try to confess. It feels like you’re being crushed under his intense gaze, it’s making you even more nervous.

He must be able to tell you’re working yourself up, “Geez, calm down, sweetheart, whatever it is it’s not that big of a deal.” He moves to pat your head as a means to comfort you but you flinch away.

And before you can control it you’re suddenly blurting out, “I had a sex dream about you the other night and now I feel really funny around you.”

The reaction from him isn’t immediate, only blinking back at you for a moment before suddenly turning his head to the side as he tries to hide his laugh but the snort he lets out gives it away. Your lips are downturned as you suffer through the agonising moments of mostly silence, the embarrassment you’d already been feeling growing tenfold at his reaction.

Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and go to walk away, to go away to anywhere but here in this moment. Gojo stops you though, his hand on your wrist pulling you back to the sofa. Now closer to him than you had been before, something you’re overly conscious over. Keeping your head turned from him, annoyed at his reaction and also your lack of tact.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

“You need to get out of my apartment.”

“Don’t be so harsh,” he whines, “I have follow up questions.”

You pull your wrist from his grasp, still refusing to look at him, “I don’t wanna answer them, you only want to torture me.”

“Not true!”

He tries to get back in your line of sight but you keep turning your head away. Your arms cross over your chest, almost like you’re trying to shrink in on yourself.

“I’m curious about a few things now though,” he hums at you, “since your reaction to having sex with me has been so cute.”

His phrasing is so poor that it has your head whipping to look at him and his overly pleased expression, “I did not have sex with you.”

“Right, right,” he waves off, “you dreamt about having sex with me.”

“I dislike you so deeply right now.”

“If you agree to answer my questions I will literally never bring up the fact that you had a wet dream about me ever again.”

You point at him angrily, “It was not a wet dream! What the hell is wrong with your phrasing of things?!”

He smiles sweetly as he grabs your finger, using the hold he has on you to unfurl your hand and loop your fingers together to hold hands, “Are you gonna answer my questions or not?”

“If I do… you’ll never speak about this again, right?” You try pulling your hand from his but his hold on you is firm.

“Sure,” he agrees all too easily.

You glance down and away from him, “Fine.”

“Perfect!”

And at his incredibly joyful tone, you can’t help but feel like you’ve made a misstep somewhere along the way. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him… or maybe you should’ve concealed your reactions more effectively… or better yet, your stupid brain shouldn’t have conjured the image of you and him having sex to begin with.

Glancing at your interlocked fingers, you ask, “Can you let go of my hand now?”

“Why? Is it making you uncomfortable?” His tone isn’t upset or accusatory, only curious.

Sighing at him in response, “I’m embarrassed to even look at you right now, of course it’s making me uncomfortable.”

He, thankfully, releases his grip on you. Choosing not to taunt you any further but you have a feeling it’s only a small reprieve. Just as your heartrate is finally calming, he asks, “Was I good?”

You’re completely taken aback, knowing what he’s asking but still confused by his bluntness, “What?”

“Was I good?” He repeats shamelessly. “I’d be a little offended if I weren’t.”

If you have to answer his ridiculous questions then you’re going to be purposefully vague, “You were… fine.”

He hums thoughtfully, “You won’t even look me in my eyes and you said you’re feeling funny around me so I was either horrendously bad or really great, which is it?”

“I don’t like your questions,” you grumble at him.

“I wanna know though,” he whines at you, “It’s your fault for being so weird about it.”

Your body droops into the couch, head resting against the back of it, “A normal person and good friend would take this information at face value and let me live quietly with my shame.”

“I disagree,” you can feel his eyes on you but you still won’t look at him, your own eyes closed. He continues on, “I’ll let you live quietly after you tell me everything I want to know… probably.”

You squint your eyes open at him, “There is literally nothing in this for me, you’re blackmailing this information out of me.”

He grins at you, “Are you saying you respond better to positive reinforcement?”

“I’m saying I’m still reluctant to answer your embarrassing questions and it’s starting to feel like if I do, I’m only giving you future blackmail material.”

“This is untrue, I’m blackmailing you, yes but I also agreed to never bring it up again if you answer my questions.”

“Oh my god!” this is getting annoying, steeling your nerves, you decide you’re just going to answer everything so you can end this quickly, “You were good, it was a good dream.”

A stupid and happy smile takes over his face, you don’t bother reading too far into it. “You said you were feeling ‘funny’, what do you mean by that?”

“Huh?”

“Funny could mean any number of things, I’m asking for specifics here,” he’s still too happy and it’s annoying you because you don’t really understand why.

“Hmm, like…” you look at him intently to better think about how you feel, your heart fluttering as you do, causing you to close your eyes as if you’re in thought, “…I feel embarrassed to have had a dream like that about you.”

He pushes back on your answer, “That’s all?”

Cracking an eye open at him as you chirp, “Yep.”

His gaze is already trained on you, apparently never having stopped looking at you, “You’re such a bad liar.”

You deflate at your failed deception, “I think we’ve just known each other too long…”

“You’ve always been a bad liar though?” He claps his hands together suddenly and it makes your heart skip a beat, “Now, out with it.”

Quiet as you start your explanation, “Every time I look at you…” he nods his head as if to encourage you, “…I think about the dream and it makes me feel funny, that’s all, can you leave me alone now?”

His lips purse as he mulls over what you’ve just said, “You sure you’re not just horny?”

“Satoru!” you chastise him, shocked and also frustrated that he’s pretty much hit the nail on the head. Ever since your dream you can’t help but look at him differently, mind feeding you images of what having sex with him might be like.

“I’m being genuine.”

“That makes it worse,” kicking your legs a little about it all.

He starts giggling, “You had a dream about getting fucked by me so good that just being around me turns you on.”

“Stop!” you move to sit in front of him properly, face clearly unhappy, “I did not say that.”

“You basically did,” he dismisses, “So… what did I do to you?”

It’s a bit ridiculous that he’s going in this direction but you should’ve known he was going to do this. You need to shut him down because just his words alone are effecting you more than you care to admit, “I’m done answering your questions.”

It’s his turn to groan and grumble, “Aww, but it was just getting good.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you say with the intention of ending this interaction, “Satoru… It doesn’t matter what you did in my dream because there’s no way you’d be that good in real life.”

The smile on his face drops, “I can’t help but take that personally.”

“Take it how you will,” you shrug, “there’s no way you could live up to the dream version of you, it’s not logical.”

“Wanna find out?”

“Don’t be childish,” you brush him off, overlooking the way those words send a shock through you.

He pushes, “Treat it like an experiment, I wanna know what’s better.”

Blinking back at him, “You’re so weird.”

Quickly pointing out, “Maybe, but you’re the one who dreamt about fucking this weirdo.”

“Yeah, dreamt, it was a dream.” You shake your head in disbelief at him, “Why are you acting like you’re jealous of dream you?”

“Maybe I am jealous of dream me.”

“That’d be stupid.”

“You’re always telling me I’m stupid.”

Gojo’s eyes keep flitting to your lips every time you speak, the look in them suddenly much darker than the glee that was held in them when he was teasing you earlier. Trying to be stern but not entirely convincing when you state, “I’m not going to have sex with you for a reason as stupid as that, grow up.”

“But you’ll have sex with me for a good reason?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” you tilt your head at him in exasperation, “why are you even acting like this?”

Ignoring your question and instead posing his own, “You sure you’re not curious, not even a little bit?” His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb pulling down on your lower lip, “I know I am.”

That simple touch has your heart leaping bounds, suddenly so hyper aware of how deep the effect he has on you is. It scares you, how much you want him, how much you want to say yes. You shouldn’t get carried away, he’s being ridiculous, this is all so ridiculous. Your years long and best friendship could be ruined because of this moment.

All things you’re worried about, all valid concerns, all thoughts that slip from you so quickly when he leans in and licks teasingly at your lower lip. The gasp you let out his entrance into your mouth, his lips plush and demanding against yours. Eyes falling shut as you let yourself get lost in his kiss, full and delightful and something you’ve never felt before.  

It’s messy and uncoordinated, like he’s not really focusing on how to kiss you and more on the fact that he gets to kiss you. You’re getting dizzy, body buzzing pleasantly at how he sucks on your tongue. String of saliva keeping your lips connected when he pulls back, snapping as he wipes his lower lip with his thumb, only to then push it into your mouth. Your immediate response to suck, feeling depraved but enjoying the look on his face you get when you do.

He speaks under his breath, eyes a little dazed, “Fuck.”

As soon as your tongue licks against the tip of his thumb, he’s pulling it from your mouth and hurriedly slotting his mouth over yours again. Barely giving you a moment to think before he’s kissing you so completely, consumed by his need and the delicious way he partakes in your lips.

It’s so overwhelming, to be desired like this is foreign and has your thighs clenching together. Gaining confidence when you finally wrap your arms around his neck, a move he appreciates if his groan and grabby hands are anything to go off of.

The way he parts from you is full of huffed and short breaths that only ends in him kissing you again, like he’s fighting with himself to say something, to do something more but ending up not strong enough to move on from your lips.

A pathetic moan that you don’t even recognise as your own leaving you, the sound only spurring Gojo on. Using his body to push against yours until your back is on the couch, not bothering to explain what he’s doing, far too busy and far too fixated on how you taste.

Filled to the brim with thoughts about how good his kiss is, how kissing can’t possibly be this good, how you’d let him do more. Fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that pulls a shudder from him.

What feels like far too soon he’s properly pulling back, quickly putting distance between you both so he’s not immediately gravitating back. Arms holding himself up, hovering over you, taking his sweet time to appreciate the look on your face. Pride exuding from him at what he’s reduced you to with a few kisses.

“Stop staring, Satoru,” your voice comes out more whinged and unfortunate than you were hoping.

“No.”

It’s a simple response, one that’s weighted with meaning and intention. Maybe if you weren’t only concerned with how good of a kisser he is, of how you want more, of how he looks indescribably good over you, you’d ask him why he’s acting this way. Maybe you’d even ask what this means for your friendship but when you’re in this deep and enjoying it this much, thinking that deep slips from you all too easily.

“I’m gonna touch you,” his gaze wanders over your body before looking back to you, “okay?”

Already nodding back at him, “Okay.”

And only when you verbally affirm him does he let his greedy hands travel your body, sitting back on his knees so he can grope at your thighs and hips. You can tell he’s enjoying your squirming immensely, eyes simultaneously lidded low and lit up.

Quickly glancing to meet your eyes when he asks, “What did I do to you?”

It takes your brain a second to catch up to his words, stuck on his big hands resting against your hips, his fingers digging into your plush skin. “You mean…”

“In your dream,” he slips into your waistband and starts to slowly pull your pants off, “what did I do to you in your dream, sweetheart?”

You feel your skin heat, his fingers tickling against your thighs. “I’m not answering that.”

A low hum sounds from him as your pants are finally removed and tossed to the side, “Why not?”

Keeping your legs together, self-conscious of the fact you’re in your underwear below him. Though he’s not bothered at all, groping and massaging at your thighs, “What happened in that dream is private.”

“That hardly seems fair,” his eyes bore into your own, “since I was there and all.” Paying no mind to your small protests as he manoeuvres one of your legs to rest against his side, feeling much more exposed now that he’s spread your legs.

“Satoru, you can’t just!– mmph–”

Further protesting cut off abruptly when he places his palm on your lower stomach, thumb drawing over your covered slit. His touch there was unexpected but not unwelcome, small shocks of pleasure thrumming through you.

“Did I use my fingers?” he keeps stroking your cunt, touch light and nowhere near enough to satisfy. “How about my mouth?” pausing to blatantly stare at your pussy, not even really addressing you when he adds, “please tell me I used my mouth,” his last words come out pitchy, almost like he’s begging for it to be true.

“I don’t know,” you’re feeling overwhelmed, head foggy, “I can’t remember.”

“I don’t know why you keep bothering to lie to me,” he murmurs low, using both thumbs to pull apart your folds, pressing into your hole only to be stopped by the material of your panties.

His action has you shooting up, face to his chest, your hands grab onto his shirt and all he does is chuckle at you. “Stop playing with me,” you huff at him.

Leaning down, he drags his lips over your skin gently. Leaving behind soft kisses all over your neck and chest, blowing air by your ear just to make you twitch. Voice almost a whisper when he asks again, “What did I do to you?”

“You’re embarrassing me,” you look through your lashes at him.

His smile is pleased, “Yeah, well, you’re turning me on.” Grabbing you by your hips and pulling you into his lap, your cunt pressing right into his erection, “Feel that?” He can’t help the way he gives small grinds into you, your warmth too enticing, “All your fault, so tell me what I did to you.”

The way he grinds into you feels too good, he’s big and so hard and couldn’t he just, “Can’t you just put it in?”

He laughs airily, surprised by your need, “I think you can feel enough to know that I can’t.”

“You were nicer to me in my dream,” you pout at him.

“Somehow, I doubt that–” his head drops back and a soft groan leaves him, getting lost in how you’ve started to rut down into him.

Thinking back to your dream, you decide to mention, “You did.”

Distracted reply coming from him, “Hmm?”

“Use your mouth, I mean–”

Just as you’d gotten the words out, he’s pushing you flat on your back again, not even pausing to think as he pulls your panties off in one movement. Settling between your thighs impatiently, eyeing up your cunt, “You been holding out on me.”

Your legs thrown haphazardly over his broad shoulders, “Wait just a sec–”

“–Why?” Tongue already hanging from his mouth and hovering over your pussy, just about drooling onto it.

The sight of him has your brain rebooting, “No– nothing.”

Keeping his eyes intently on you when he licks your whole pussy, smiling at how your mouth drops opens and hips squirm, “You’re cute.”

“You– you’re– hnn–” you don’t get to retort properly, his tongue flicking at your clit each time you try to say something.

“Mhm,” he’s enjoying this, you can tell, his tone too amused. “You’re so wet, practically begging for me to put my mouth on you.”

And then he shoves his tongue inside you, holding your hips down so he can fuck you with it. Delighting in the moans tumbling from your lips, cunt syrupy sweet and begging for him to stuff it full. Swallowing down all you have to give him, shudders running down his spine as his cock jerks in his pants. He’s been horny ever since you admitted to having had a sex dream about him.

It feels a little cruel that you kept it from him for so long, he would’ve gotten on his knees for you the second you asked him to. Groaning into your pussy when your hole tightens around his tongue, pressing his face closer to you. Nose stimulating your clit with how desperate he is to taste your cunt.

He’s messy in how he’s devouring you, sloppily making out with your pussy. Small groans leaving him as he relishes in it, like he’s getting just as much out of this as you are. It’s too good, back arching and thighs fighting to close, held open by his wide frame between your legs. This is the first time someone has gotten you so close so quickly, it’s almost embarrassing how easily he’s about to make you cum.

Gojo knows you’re close, it excites him, he wants your cum in his mouth, he wants to feel how you shake underneath him. But there’s something wicked inside him that wants to tease you a little more, waiting until you’re just about to finish before pulling back.

You whine at him, eyes wet when you look at him in confusion. He only smiles back at you, tongue licking his lower lip before he asks innocently, “I forgot to ask, did you cum like this?”

Brain taking a moment to catch up before realising he’s still asking about that damn dream, “I don’t– I think so?”

Pressing open mouthed and wet kisses over your inner thighs, remarking, “Not very memorable, was it?”

Somehow, it feels like he’s trying to compete with his dream counterpart and the thought is just ridiculous. “It was very memorable,” you’re only hoping to be a little teasing but by the look in his eyes he takes it personally. Opening his mouth wide and chomping down onto your thigh, biting you enough to nearly break skin. You jump at the shock, “Hey!”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, licking over the impression of his teeth before pressing a kiss to it, “try remembering this instead, yeah?”

It’s a little bit cute of him to be so jealous of your dream, “You’re stupid.”

He knows he’s stupid, he’s all too aware of it but that changes nothing to him, “I’d be more careful with your words if you wanna cum,” blowing air onto your clit, reminding you of how close you were.

“Satoru…” you don’t really like how he’s got you backed into a corner right now.

He hums in acknowledgement at you, “Need something?” Head leaning against your thigh as he smiles smugly up at you.

How frustrating of him, to know exactly what you want but choosing not to give it to you for his own enjoyment. “You’re a tease,” you huff at him.

“Hmm… not usually,” his hand slides up your inner thigh, single digit slipping inside your hole, “I think that’s something you bring out of me,” pleased with the small sounds you let out at his finger stuffing you.

Gasped moan leaving your lungs, trying to tell him how unbearable he is, “You’re– hnn!–”

A sound of awe leaving him as he drags his finger out, “How obscene, you really are so fucking wet.” He says it like you should be ashamed of yourself but he’s smiling too big, eyes full of loving obsession. Clearly incredibly happy with how dripping and soaked your cunt is, “Basically drooling for it, sweetie. How embarrassing~”

You might have to kill him because he really is embarrassing you. Hell, it was already embarrassing doing this with your best friend and now he’s teasing you, “Stop…” not able to help the completely pathetic look on your face, “…stop being so mean to me.”

Gojo feels his heart drop and then start beating a million miles an hour, you’re so cute that he can’t help but breathlessly laugh, “My bad, will making you cum make up for it?”

“Yes,” you assert.

Ah, his head is spinning, you might be too much for his poor heart to handle. He can’t bear having you upset with him though, pressing soft kisses to your pussy lovingly. It’s as if he’s apologising for being so cruel to you, deepening his kiss to your cunt by stuffing you full of his tongue again.

The way you twitch and moan under him really does drive him wild, how he’s going to stay sane while fucking you is beyond him. Lapping at your sopping cunt so devotedly, eyes dazed and pussy drunk as he watches how your eyes roll and brows pinch. Giggling to himself at how surreal it is to be tongue deep inside you, to have you this needy for him.

When he suddenly pushes your legs back, you squeak. Damn near folded in half and bent for him, “Satoru, you can’t just– mmph!–”

He doesn’t grace you with listening properly, simply going back to eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. The way he’s holding you is pornographic in nature, a position you’ve never even thought to be in and he’s easily manhandled you into it. Lower back no longer even touching the couch, held up by Gojo.

With how he’s positioned you now, all your dewy slick and his saliva slides from your cunt and drips crudely onto your poor couch. Head dizzied as he gets you closer and closer to finishing, building you up so much faster after the loss of your last orgasm.

“I– ah!– so close– mmph–” you don’t want him to stop, hand holding onto one of his on your hip tightly, begging that he doesn’t pull away again.

Lucky for you, he desperately wants you cumming for him. He barely brought himself to deny you the first time, there’s no way he could do it a second. Completely and whole heartedly dedicated to making your pussy cream for him, salivating at the thought alone.

Moans you don’t even register pulling from your lungs as he finally pushes you over the edge, hips shaking as you try to ride out your own high with little success. The position you’re folded in keeping you at his mercy. Orgasm feeling oh so sweet after he denied you, lashes fluttering as it washes over you.

Gojo hums happily into your pussy, drinking down all you have to give him and then still not parting from you. Too addicted to your scent, to your taste, ignoring all rationality as he keeps licking and sucking at your cunt. Whining when your weak fingers dig into his hair and pull him back by force, shaking underneath him from how he’s nearly forced you into overstimulation.

“Too much,” your voice trembles with your words.

His lower face is a complete mess of you and you’d feel bad but the stupid smile and dazed look he’s wearing tells you that you don’t have to. “You got a great pussy,” he compliments, moving his thumbs so he can lewdly pull your cunt wider for his greedy eyes.

“Ah!– stop staring, have you no shame?”

Eyes flicking to yours when he states seriously, “None.”

You’re feeling far too exposed in this position, “Can you let me move–”

Ignoring you and instead musing aloud, “–How many fingers do you think you could take?”

“What?”

“Your hole was tight around my tongue so maybe only one?” Slipping a single finger inside you and stroking against your walls. Your back fights to arch and a soft mewl sounds from you, “ahh, that’s a nice reaction. Let’s stretch you out yeah?”

“You’re so– hnn!–” barely biting out, “You’re such a pervert.”

His head tilts at you, “Did you expect anything else?”

Managing to babble out, “Weren’t so– hah– perverted– hnn– in my dream– mmph–”

“I take pride in that,” his chest vibrates with his words. Of course he takes pride in it, why wouldn’t he? Stuffing another finger inside your snug cunt and scissoring them, trying to open you up enough to be able take him, “This sweet pussy might fucking kill me, I don’t know how you’re gonna take me.”

Could he have a bigger ego? “Don’t be ridiculous– hah!–”

“I’m not just being cocky, sweetie.” Fingers brushing up against so many spots you can never quite reach on your own, “You might actually struggle to take it all.”

Eventually giving you a third finger, spread wide around his digits and leaking into the palm of his hand. He’s got you a squirming and moaning mess under him, mind melting from the mouth-wateringly sinful way he’s playing with you.

“Satoru– hnn!–”

“Something wrong?”

Now he knows damn well… “Please, just– hah–”

He laughs at your whimpered neediness, completely aware of how bad you want him inside of you. “Being real cute right now.”

“Don’t–”

“–Don’t what?” Using his fingers to tease your most intimate spots.

“‘Toru– hnn– please,” lower lip wobbling as you pout at him, “I want you…”

That’s not fair, you’re not playing fair at all. “You’re evil,” he mumbles at you, cheeks and tips of his ears flushing red with how turned on he is, “but I’ll give you what you want, since you’re so adorable.”

Thick fingers drawing from your cunt, the loss of him pulling a whine from you; it makes him smile. You’re genuinely so pathetic right now and aside from how horny it’s got him; it’s also got his heart stuttering in his chest.

“Take your shirt off,” he points at you, letting you finally lower your bottom half to the couch.

Grumpily following his instruction, feeling especially docile right now, “You’re being too bossy.”

His words come out a little muffled as he pulls his own shirt off, “Your pouting would have more effect if you weren’t also listening so well.”

“Maybe I’ll stop listening then.”

He stands from the couch to tug down his pants and boxers, brows drawn together and head tilting, “When you’re this close to finally taking it all?” Holding the base of his hard cock, tone smug.

Embarrassed for yourself at how your cunt throbs for him, desperate in a pitiful way that you’ve never imagined yourself being over him or anyone. “Are you in any position to be this big of a tease?”

“For you? Always,” he taps your thigh and leans onto the couch again, “now spread your legs for me.”

Already opening your legs to give him room before really thinking twice on it, hating that you’re this willing to follow his instruction. His hands on you are gentle, almost reverent in how they trail along your inner thighs.

Gojo can’t help himself, touching you as much as he can, wanting to prolong this whole experience. Your skin so soft and delicate under his touch, fingers digging into your flesh just to see proof of him touching you. Completely bare and willing under him, heart hammering in his chest at this fact.

Dragging his cock through your sopping wet pussy, shivering at just how gooey your cunt is. Not intentionally trying to torture you but doing so anyways, squirming and impatient under him the more he plays with you.

“Satoru,” voice pitchy, “please.”

Not moving immediately, only cursing as he gazes at you all lost.

You wrap a single leg around his waist and pull him forward, encouraging, “C’mon.”

Smug expression suddenly back on his face, “Alright, here we go,” tapping at your entrance a few times first. “Ohh, biiig stretch,” word drawn out and provocative as his cock head slowly slips inside you.

Big stretch is fucking right, chest squeezing as you struggle to adjust. Hands gripping onto his biceps for dear life, needing to be grounded.

One of his hands reach out and strokes against your head, you keen into his touch and he chuckles. Leaning down to whisper, “You need to breathe, sweetheart.”

His hips have stopped moving forward but it hardly seems like it, already feeling obscenely full. “H-how much– hnn– more?”

Gojo dips his head down to look at where your cunt is bulging around him, teeth digging into his lower lip as he stifles a strained laugh, “Not much at all.”

“Are you lying?” Unable to help the way your lip wobbles a bit with your question.

“Yeah,” he thrusts just a little bit more into you, “but you’re doing so well, feel fffucking fantastic.”

You’re clawing at his shoulders, feeling like you’re being stretched to your limits, “Why– ah!– why is it so big?” Somehow, you feel annoyed at him for it.

“I’m God’s favourite,” is how he chooses to reply, ego growing tenfold at how you’re falling apart just from the shallow thrusts he’s delivering.

How the hell are you meant to take all of him, “How– hah– how much?”

He can’t take his eyes off how you’re sucking him in, hands gripping your hips and thumbs drawing circles into your skin soothingly, “Why don’t you just watch for yourself?”

You shake your head at him, eyes scrunched shut, “No.”

“And why not?” Still, he’s feeding you more of his cock, your pussy pulsing around him making him dizzy, “It’s a good fuckin view.”

“Don’t– hnn– don’t torment me.”

Blinking your eyes open to give your best glare, it only comes across half hearted. Completely taken with the look on Gojo’s face, flushed pink with his pupils blown wide, teeth digging into his lower lip again to stop from whining. Eyes flicking to yours and he’s completely melting when seeing just how pathetic you are under him, moan stumbling from his lips so suddenly that it takes him by surprise.

He's just as big of a mess as you and it has your cunt positively creaming around him, turned on by the fucked out horny look on your best friends face. Gojo shudders at your pussy getting slicker around him, his dick jerking inside you.

“Getting this– hah– wet over your best friend…” fucking his hips quickly, pelvis now flush to yours, “…how shameless of you.”

You’re quivering around him and writhing under him, the feeling of being completely stuffed full overwhelming on its own. His taunting cruel and mocking and unfortunately turning you on that much more, upset that you’re letting him get away with it.

Lips downturned when you fire back, “You’re more shameless– hnn– pervert.”

Gojo can only be charmed by your weak insult, especially since he’s pretty sure you’re unaware of how your hips are twitching under the weight of his hold. Fighting upwards for the hope of getting fucked but kept frustratingly still by him. Your neediness has piqued his interest, now wondering how long he can stay still until you’re shedding tears out of frustration. Quickly growing addicted to the idea of teasing you like this.

He's so still it’s driving you crazy, able to feel his dick twitching inside you, veins throbbing against your sensitive walls. Obviously wanting it just as bad as you but still not moving, shifting one of your hands to tap at his on your hip, gaining his attention.

Eyes on his, “What are you waiting– mmph– for?”

God, the look on your face is killing him, so sweet under him. It’s almost like you’re falling apart already, his hands dig into your thighs and it has you keening under him. Pathetic whine leaving you as your hips start grinding into him quickly, trying to alleviate some of the desire you’re feeling.

“Now why on earth…” he straightens his back up more, pulling your lower half up with him, not giving the chance for his cock to slip from you, “…are you this touch starved?”

“Huh?” it’s the only response you’re capable of giving, having finally seen just how he’s shoved inside you. Cunt stretched obscene around his fat dick, dripping happily and syrupy sweet around him. Chest fluttering at the shock and excitement.

“I’m so sorry for not noticing, sweetie,” he coos at you, “I would’ve helped you if you’d told me.”

Complaining back at him, “I am not touch starved.”

“You definitely are,” he trails his hand from your hip, up your side, just to show you how you twitch into it, “it’s okay though, I’ll take good care of you.”

Pussy shivering involuntarily around him, giving away that you’re lying. How he managed to know you were deprived, you have no idea but the fact he did is embarrassing to you. He doesn’t need to be aware of how long it’s been since you were last touched so intimately.

“I–”

“–Don’t bother lying again,” he keeps caressing you where he can reach, “I’d much rather hear about how much you like when I touch you.”

Maybe he’ll start moving if you’re honest, “I like when– hah– you touch me,” pouting slightly and barely fighting off the shudder running down your spine at his touch.

“Good,” he smiles at you, all glib, “‘Cause I’m gonna touch you. Lots.”

Eyes sparkling at him, hoping, “Does that mean you’re– ah– hnn– actually going to fuck me now?”

“Why?” his head tilts at you, “Do you want it?”

Giving your best glare back at him, he’s proven to you sufficiently by now that he can read you incredibly well, much to your dismay. Muttering out, “Dream you was– hah– much more indulgent of me.”

“Ouch,” though he says that, he doesn’t seem hurt at all, “Dream me was a fool then ‘cause you’re much more fun to play with like this.”

He’s being so annoying, “Can’t you just give me what I want?”

“I might,” his gaze is lecherous as his eyes rake over your body, “if you ask for it properly.”

“Satoru…” you try to call out to him as sweetly as possible, “…please fuck me?” lip quivering slightly as your neediness bleeds through your façade of togetherness, “please?”

Gojo’s heart squeezes in his chest, he’d planned on tormenting you a little more but he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep his sanity any longer. Already he feels like he’s falling apart for you, caught between wanting to give you everything you want and teasing you until you cry. He guesses he’ll just have to settle for fucking you until you cry this time, next time, he promises himself he’ll tease you properly next time.  

“Satoru?”

Your voice breaks him out of his reverie, grin back on his face, “I heard you, pretty. I’ll give you what you want.”

Dragging his cock from you slowly, so slowly, the heavy weight of him pulling out driving you up a wall, insides shuddering. Broken and gasped moans leaving you, rushing out quick, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, oh–”

The laugh that leaves him is too attractive, amused by your gratitude for something like this. It’s cute how the thank-yous just keep tumbling from your lips over and over as he keeps pulling back to the tip of him.

“Don’t thank me for that…” his hands dig into your hips more, “…thank me for this,” slamming into you all at once with his last word.

The wind is completely knocked from your lungs, shocked whine louder than you’d want it to be. Desperately clawing at any part of him you can reach, struggling to take it and keep it together. Feeling like you’re completely melting, head spinning as pleasure thumps through your veins.

“Mmph– I– ahh–” barely coherent as your eyes fight to not roll to the back of your head, “thank hnn– you.”

Small giggle leaving him at just how adorable you’re being, heart hammering in his chest as he sets a consistently mind ruining pace. He can’t wipe the fucked out smile off his face as he keeps pounding into you, giddy with how he gets to have you under him like this.

Babbling varied compliments, “You’re so adorable,” he huffs out a whimper, “hnn– and you’re so fucking tight around me,” less coherent as he carries on, “God, and so fffucking wet– hah– what the– so hot– I–”

He feels insane, how you’re this warm and perfect around him has him at a loss. Almost like you were made just for his cock, something he’ll let himself believe because the idea of you being with anyone but him breaks his heart a little bit.

Hypnotised by how you’re sucking him back in, clinging onto his dick desperately. It’s almost like every time he pulls out, you’re begging him to fuck right back in, and of course he’ll comply. The idea of pulling out before he’s finished with you a painful thought, not willing to give up this moment even if someone walked in on the two of you.

All you can do is take it, take all of the jaw slacking and toe-curling pleasure he’s delivering you. Your pussy making obscene sounds as he fucks into you, skin hot from how depraved it all feels. Gojo looks so completely wrecked, eyes glazed over, lips still moving as he continues to mutter out sweet praise. Praise that would probably have your insides flipping and body growing hotter but you can’t hear anything but your heart thumping in your own ears.

Delirious grin making its way onto his face as he’s struck with a wicked realisation, large hand sliding its way from your thigh to your stomach. Pressing down the littlest bit and watching how you squirm and shudder under him, gasping for breath and hands slapping at him, trying to speak.

“Don’t– hnn– don’t do that– ah!– too much– it feels too–”

“What? Good?” He hisses out, still managing to be taunting.

“It’s too much– hah– mmph– I’m too sensitive,” your eyelashes feel wet, like you might’ve started crying but you can’t even be sure of that right now.

His hand presses down more into your tummy, “I know you are~” he giggles a little, “it’s turning me on.”

“Seriously– hnn– don’t– I’m gonna– ah!–”

He’d completely ignored your pleas causing you to cut yourself off with a moan, orgasm suddenly washing over you. Spasming hot and snug around him, so sinful that he’s shocked by his own high, cumming deep inside you as you shake and shiver around him.

“Ohh, you’re– haah– you’re killing me sweetly,” Gojo’s head feels like it’s spinning, swimming in so much pleasure as he grinds into you.

You’ve slumped under him, trusting him to keep a hold of you, not even thinking to chew him out for making a mess of both your cunt and sofa. Brain feeling all fuzzy and melted in your skull, blissed out from how good you’re currently feeling.

Busy basking in the afterglow when your world is suddenly spinning, Gojo’s taken advantage of your rag-dolled state and flipped you over onto your stomach. Quickly realising that he’s still hard when your hips are being pulled up and his cock is sliding through your folds.

“You gotta stay with me, pretty,” he groans, positioning his tip at your hole, “we’re– hnn– not done yet.”

“Satoru– ah!–”

Both your moans are debauched and loud as he stuffs you so fucking full all at once, lungs seizing in your chest. If he weren’t holding your hips so tight, you would’ve collapsed to the couch. Your fingers dig into the cushions below you, biting back pitiful sounds that so desperately want to leave you.

“Don’t– don’t do that,” he shoves inside you somehow that little bit more, “let me hear you, sweetie.”

Sulking back, “Noo– hah– it’s embarrassing–”

“–It’s arousing,” he counters, skin on fire with how badly he wants to hear you moan for him.

He supposes it’s fine though, he’ll just have to drag those sweet sounds from you himself. Giving sharp and angled thrusts, purposefully driving right into all those delicious spots he found earlier while playing with you. Grinning wide, overly pleased with himself when you squeak out the cutest moan he’s ever heard.

He’s falling apart inside you, wrapped around your little finger and you don’t even realise it. He didn’t even intend to cum earlier, you just felt too good. All sticky cum and clingy walls, he couldn’t help himself.

Able to feel how his cum leaks out around him, hear how your pussy gushes with his cock inside you. He feels borderline feral, something possessive dancing around in his heart at how your cunt squelches around him, stuffed full of his hot semen.

The desire to see his face hits you, remembering just how good he looked as he got lost in how pleasurable everything felt. Whining pitifully below him into the couch, feeling far too shy to tell him how much you enjoy looking at him while he fucks you stupid.

“Satoru– hnn– it’s–” drooling onto the couch as you moan out to him, “it’s good– hah– it’s too good– it’s good~” nearly sobbing with just how damn good it feels.

“I bet,” he chuckles, loving your reaction.

Biting at him, “Hnn– shuddup–”

Easily ignoring you, “Now be honest… what’s better?”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, you can’t focus on whatever the hell he’s saying when he’s fucking your gooey sweet spot so perfectly that you’re in bliss.

“Focus,” he fills you completely and stills his hips, refusing to move, “what’s better? This or your dream.”

Cunt so creamy and cock drunk for him, throbbing and pulsing so lovingly on him. He’s a little bit annoyed that he has to stop but he needs your answer. Hips twitching back into him, small noises of frustrated and deprived pleasure slipping from your lips.

He purrs low at you, “If you want me to move then you gotta answer me,” hand smoothing down your back, “you know I will torment you until you do.”

If you weren’t so turned on and delirious you’d recognise it as the bluff it is, he may have been able to torment you earlier but his patience is barely hanging on by a fucking thread at this point. But you are that turned on and delirious, so instead you answer earnestly, “This, this is better. It’s lots better, now please. Move.”

“There ya go,” he pats your ass a couple times, “such a sweet little thing when you’re fucked full of my fat dick.”

Words meant as a warning but failing to hold any weight, “‘Toru– don’t–”

“–Don’t stress, pretty,” giving you a single thrust, “I’ll give you what you and your pussy are begging me for.”

Your response is smothered into the couch cushions, “Please.”

Groaning a giggle at how you reply, finding it cute that you’re displaying manners you don’t usually bother to with him. You must have it bad for him right now because otherwise you would not be so docile under him.

Fucking into you so you can feel it, really feel it. Intending to pull you apart so perfectly, wanting you to feel this just as much he is. Pelvis smacking into your ass obscenely, admiring the way your back arches for him, damn near presenting yourself to him.

“More– hah–” you stutter out at him, trying to explain what you need, “I want– hnn– I want you to touch me more.”

His eyes close and he intakes a deep breath, controlling himself as he registers your words. Arm reaching around you to pull you up, his chest to your back. He’s pressed so close to you, warm and comforting. You’re keening into him again, relishing how close he is to you, how much of him you can feel. Butterflies dancing in your stomach at how intimate it is and how it’s so much better because of it.

His hands grope at you, your hips, stomach, tits, anywhere he can grab, “Someone’s being greedy.”

Huffing back at him, “Hah– I am not.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” amused with himself as he breathes into your ear, thrusting desperately into your dripping cunt.

You grab hold of his hands and tug, encouraging him to wrap his arms around you properly. All too easily, he gives into your will, holding you tight. His face tucked into your neck and breathing in your scent, lips delicate as they trace your skin.

Brain hazy and muddled as you babble out your feelings to him, “It’s good– I like your dick– hnn– I like– hah– I like you.” Head turning to the side to press a small kiss to his head.

He’s quick to move so he can capture your lips with his, groaning into it. His dick grows impossibly larger inside you at your small confession, throbbing and leaking inside your tight heat.

Pulling back with a last suck to your lower lip, “Don’t say such sweet things to me, pretty,” tongue licking your ear, teeth nipping you, “or I’ll never leave you alone.”

“You– hah– you– hnn– do that anyways– ah!–”

“I’m about to become much worse,” it’s more of a promise than anything else, you thought of him as clingy before but he’s about to become so so much more worse.

The idea of that alone should probably be less appealing but while stuffed full of his aching cock, you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything other than pathetically whipped for him. Pussy weeping around him, begging for more, for it to never stop.

His dick so deep it feels like he’s in your lungs, spasming around him as your high gets closer and closer. Pleasure climbing up your spine as you melt around him, loving his touch on your body, his breath by your ear.

Gojo moans, head tipping back before he leans forwards again, “You’ve got me obsessed with you, sweetheart,” voice cracking with a whine, “both you– hnn– and this sopping wet pussy of yours.”

Sobbing out your warning, “‘Toru– hah– ah!– I’m gonna cum–”

“Hmm?” his chest vibrates against your back, “Gonna cum because I told you I’m obsessed with you? That’s pretty lewd of you.”

Cheeks wet with your shed tears, “Don’t– hng– don’t tease.”

“Just let yourself enjoy it,” hand pressing into your stomach like he had earlier, “your cunt sure does.”

Long and pitchy moan leaving you, orgasm knocking into you like a tonne of bricks. Trying to curl forward but unable to, Gojo’s arms are firm around you, not letting you go anywhere as he keeps fucking into you. His pace suddenly much quicker as he doubles his efforts from behind, chasing his own high.

It doesn’t take him long at all to follow behind you, face burying into your neck, teeth biting into you as he shudders. Muffled whimpers vibrating against your skin, his hips jerking shallowly, he can’t bring himself to stop fucking into you. You’re too stupid to think about telling him off, not even sure you’re able to process thoughts let alone talk coherently.

Eventually he stills to a complete stop, planting kisses over his bite mark. He doesn’t want to let you go, content to hold you up like this but you’re on the verge of passing out. Gentle in how he lowers you down onto the couch, the pair of you groaning when his cock slips from you. Shared cum connecting his dick to your stuffed hole obscenely, he has to bite his lip to stifle the most pathetic sound at the sight.

While you gather yourself, he kneads your back, his large hands digging into the knots there. The massage nice and calming, helping to soothe your aching muscles after the way he manhandled you to his hearts content. Almost feeling like you could fall asleep like this, feeling so safe and warm under his ministrations.

He leans over to check you, “Stay awake,” fingers brushing against your cheek, “you’re gonna need a shower.”

“No moving,” you protest.

“Yes moving, I know if you fall asleep like this you will be pissed when you wake up,” he brushes down your spine delicately, “and you’ll be pissed at me… which I’d personally like to prevent.”

“Can’t do it.”

“I’ll help you,” he hops off the couch, “Come on.”

Groaning dramatically the whole time as you sit up, standing in front of him with the help of his hands on you. Legs wobbling under you, balance precarious. As soon as you’re on your feet, his cum leaks from your cunt and down your inner thighs. It catches Gojo’s attention who crouches down to get a better look.

“Wooow,” he comments.

Shy at his reaction, “Wh– what?”

He glances up at you and looks deep into your eyes, “I came a lot inside you,” eyes dropping to stare at your pussy obviously, “sorry but this is really turning me on…”

Barely finishing his sentence before his tongue is lolling out of his mouth, head tipping forward to lick up the mess. Mouth swapping sides to travel up each of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours as he does. It’s overwhelming you, feeling beyond embarrassed at the lewd display. His grip the only thing keeping your wobbly legs from completely giving out from under you.

Gojo’s actions are ravenous and simultaneously dazed, somehow both feral and on autopilot. Moaning into your pussy as he licks and sucks your cunt clean, tongue hitting so many over-sensitive places. Your hands dig into his hair to pull him back only to see the completely pussy drunk look in his eyes. If it had been possible, he’d probably have hearts in his eyes, so far gone.

“Stop– hnn– you need to stop,” legs shaking much more now, “too sensitive,” grip more forceful with your last tug.

He pouts back at you, “But you’re so cute when you’re overstimulated.”

Pulling back from you to stand to his full height, smirking down at you. All self-satisfied and also blissed out on the taste of your shared cum. Your tummy is full of butterflies from how he’s been treating you today, legs still weak under you as your knees cave. Thankfully, he’s quick and catches you, effortlessly picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to wash the both of you up.

Letting yourself be wiped down by him in the bathroom, sitting on the sink as he uses a warm cloth to clean you up better than his tongue could. “I was serious you know,” he says unprompted.

Head fuzzy and a little lost on what he means, “About?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

𝒂.𝒏. hope you guys liked !! i'm still working on my neighbour toji fic,, i just got carried away with this one (it was meant to be a drabble but i got too into it and posted a different drabble so i could write this instead >_>) also i was meant to finish this quickly at the beginning of the month but i fell into anime hole MY BAD

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[glamorizethechaos]

Bruises Pt 1 | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: When you find yourself in an abusive relationship, you never thought your attending Jack Abbot would become your protector and saving grace.

TW: domestic violence, addiction, alcohol, age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s & Jack is 49), blood, pining, angst, eventual smut. Not beta read.

If this flops I’m not writing part 2. Also if it flops I may cry so lie and tell me it’s good.

Word Count: 1.9k

There was no point in trying to cover the massive bruise on your face, it would only make things more suspicious. You dont exactly remember what make your fiancé Charlie snap, but before you knew it, you were on the floor of the kitchen, his fist making contact with your face. The air escaped your lungs as you felt a blunt force against your abdomen, your fingers sprawled out on the floor, trying to hold onto anything you could as you gasped for breath. You didnt move from the cold tile for a while, it bringing comfort to your burning flesh.

As you strode into The Pitt the next evening, you did so hesitantly, keeping your head down. It was shift change, Dana was still at the nurses station, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and Robby was stuck in a trauma. Jack was at the computer, reading over the shift change reports.

"Evening." you said casually, setting your water bottle down on the desk. Dana was the first to glance up.

"Eve- what the fuck?"

Jacks head shot up, and without hesitation he rounded the desk, taking your face into his hands, inspecting the damage.

"What the fuck happened?" you avoided his gaze as he gently cupped your cheeks, brushing his thumb across the black and blue skin.

"I'm fine. I was playing baseball with my nephew, and he has a really good swing." you tried to chuckle through your lie. He studied your face, his jaw clenched and brow serious.

"Did you get an X-ray?"

"I'm fine. Really." you shook your head, but when he delicately pressed his fingers on your nose you jerked your head backwards with a wince.

"Bullshit you're fine, you're next for X-ray." he grabbed your wrist and started leading you towards radiology as you protested.

"I know we have other patients, but you cant treat them with a broken face. If its broken, you're going home."

"No!" you called out too eagerly, almost in a panic. Jack stopped in his tracks with a screeching halt, twisting around to look at you. His demeanor instantly changed, his gaze burned into your flesh as he studied you: your eyes, your shallow breathing, and your posture that seemed to be recoiling with each passing second. His jaw was clenched, but the grip on your wrist began to loosen, and he slowly let go. You looked down as his fingerprints began to fade away.

"I'm ordering a CT" he deadpanned with a quick turn, continuing your walk to X-ray. His pace speeding up over so slightly and you struggled to keep up. The air was heavy; the silence hung high in the air- only the hum of the hospital’s harsh artificial lights filled the uncomfortable void.

"For a broken nose?" you called out, confused.

"Just a precaution."

"We don't order CTs for a broken nose, Jack. I dont ne-"

"Will you just fucking listen for once?" he hissed through clenched teeth as you jerked backwards. Jack was known for his tough exterior, but he wasn't short, not with his patients, and especially not with you. You knew there was a soft side to him, one he rarely showed. You’ve seen him sit bedside with a young girl explaining to process of a medical abortion, you’ve watched him show his prosthetic leg to a terrified little boy with a broken arm, and you’ve watched him talk a fellow vet through a PTSD episode.

He pulled a gown down from the shelf in the waiting room and pressed it firmly against your chest. "Get dressed, when you're all done I'll come get you." Before you could respond he walked away, his fists balled by his sides. You had never seen Jack like this, what happened? It's like a flip switched. His body was tense, his eyes full of anger.

You look at your bruised face in the changing room as you took off your engagement ring and other jewelry. You did your best to cover your bruised body despite the gown being open all the way down the back. The radiology tech was the seasoned Maxine, having worked at PTMC for almost 40 years, and having pet names for everyone at the hospital.

“I’m not sure why he’s making such a fuss over a broke nose. He’s not my dad.” You kept the conversation going as she positioned you on the bed.

“What about your daddy?.” Maxine winked.

“Jesus Christ Maxine!” You blushed.

“I’m just teasing honey, he just cares about you that’s all. Some may say smitten.” the smell of cigarettes emanating from her Snoopy scrubs.

“You said you were gonna quit.” You tried to change the subject as you began to blush even harder.

“They haven’t killed me yet. Besides, talk to me when you’ve been working here as long as I have. How long have you been working here?”

“5 years.”

“See, you’re just a baby, baby.” She patted you shoulder and left the room to start the scan. “Just stay still for me doll and it’ll be done soon.” After CT you hurried to change out of your gown and back into your black scrubs. You were seething with anger and shock by how Jack had spoken to you earlier. You waltzed back down to the ER despite his orders and looked up at the patient board. 10 more in the waiting room since you went down to radiology? What the fuck?

“When you’re all done I’ll come and get you…” you began speaking to yourself in a mocking tone as your scanned your badge to pick up a new case, “who the fuck does he think he’s talking to?”

“What are you doing?” You spun to find Jack barreling toward the nurses station from curtain 3. “I told you I’d come get you when the CT was over.”

“And I’m not a child Jack. I’m a big girl, I can walk myself back to work. I don’t need you to hold my hand the whole way in case I get lost. Now if you’ll excusing me, I have a vomiting toddler in 12.” You tried to push past but he stepped in front of you, blocking your direction.

“Not until I see your scan results.” You were livid at how infantilizing he was being at the moment. You always thought he viewed you at incredibly capable. You searched his eyes, looking for at least something that would explain this sudden strange behavior. What did he know? What did he suspect?

“Step aside Dr. Abbot.” You squared up to him. Arms resting on your hips. He took a step forward, his chest almost pressed up against yours. You could feel the heat emanating from his body and your breath hitched in your throat.

“Uh Abbot,” Nurse Lena uncomfortably walked into whatever the hell this was. “CT and X-ray results are back.”

Jack backed up slowly, not taking his eye off you as he opened the files on his computer. He began to read, his hands resting on the desk in front of him.

“Why don’t we go over these somewhere a little bit quieter.” He asked, faking a smile and trying to find a private room. You followed in suit.

“You don’t have to take me aside to tell me I have a broken nose, Dr. Abbot.” You were almost 2 hours into your shift and hadn’t touched a patient yet. This was ridiculous.

“You’re right,” he answered back, closing the curtain behind you as you both ducked into Room 7. “I’d like you to tell me where these rib fractures came from”. He didn’t looked at you, just typed away at the computer pulling up your CT results.

“What are you talking about, Jack?” Your mouth instantly began to water as you were hit a wave of nausea. He turned the computer to face you, pulling up your imaging.

“Non displaced rib fracture of the left T6 and hairline fracture of your T7.” He pointed to each rib on the screen, as if it weren’t clear as day to you as well. Your hands tangled in your lap as you tried to come up with some sort of explanation. “Or did your nephew do that too?” Your eyes shot up at his sarcastic remark. Jack regretted those words the second they left his lips. Looking down at his shoes, he inched his way towards the edge of the bed where you were sitting, hands in his scrub pockets.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, putting his hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. You winced slightly as he hit a particularly tender spot and his face fell. "Whats wrong with your shoulder?"

"I'm fine." you just shook your head, fiddling with your engagement ring like you were unintentionally trying to tell him something. He took a seat next to you, looking down at the floor.

"How long has he been hurting you." he finally asked, nervously rubbing the scruff on his face, trying to calm the pit in his stomach. You shook your head again and stood, turning towards the door. He grabbed your hand, stopping you from leaving, unknowingly tracing his thumb back and forth on the back of your hand. Avoiding his gaze, you struggled to hold back the tears that were burning your eyes. You felt a gentle tug on your arm, Jack pulling you closer to him, grabbing on to your other free hand.

There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to tell him. About all the nights you spent locked in the bathroom, hiding from your fiancés hurling words and fists. About the bruises that covered your body. About the control. The isolation. The terror.

"I dont know." was all you could muster, however. You felt his body stiffen, his grip tighten on your wrists. A sob caught in your chest, the lump growing larger and larger in your throat. You couldn’t look up, you couldn’t face him, though you felt his hazel eyes burning into your flesh. Before you either of you could speak again, you were saved by a trauma.

It wasn’t until hours later, as the Pittsburgh sun because to poke out from under the horizon, did you hear the door creak and the sound of his uneven gate coming up behind you. Without a word, he handed you your usual, a cup of vanilla chai tea. The both of you would meet up here on occasion, after a particularly tough shift, just to talk. It was a chilly morning, the tip of your nose rosy as another cold Pittsburgh fall and winter began to creep in. You caught chill as the wind whipped through the buildings beside you. As you shivered, Jack instinctively stepped towards you, letting his radiating body heat warm yours.

“It wasn’t always this bad,” you finally admitted. “The first time he hit me… he said he’d never do it again. I was stupid enough to believe him. But then his drinking got worse and, you get the rest of the story.” You motion to your face, the cold air stinging your eyes. He stared at you without a word, you could tell he was thinking. You saw the gears moving in his head. Jack Abbot, thinking? That was never good sign.

“You drive or take The T?” He asked, pushing off the railing.

“The T…?” You were confused as he started walking toward the door, motioning you to follow suit. “Grab your stuff, I’ll take you home.” “Jack, that’s kind of you, but if Charlie saw some strange man dropping me o-“

“I know,” Jack cut you off, “I’m taking you to my place.”

[berrryparfait]

❝ i don't look good in this dress... ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

♥︎ featuring: sylus, zayne, rafayel, xavier, caleb x fem!reader | prompt

— ༉‧₊ᐟ premise: you don't think this dress looks good on you... he begs to differ. 「i really don't see what you're seeing, babe.」

— ༉‧₊ᐟ tags/cws: fluff, shopping date, reader tries on a dress that hugs her curves and doesn't like how it looks, mentions of weight loss, insecurity, reassurance, he's whipped and worships the ground you walk on

— ♫₊ᐟ soundtrack: lipstick – charlie puth

✧ a/n: requested work that i rushed to complete because i wanted all of u to know that u are GORGEOUS. do us all a favor and wear that dress girl ♡(>ᴗ•)

Nothing makes you happier than a shopping date with the love of your life. The way he’d been so eager to plan this day—to put a smile on your pretty face as if your happiness were his own… Well, it is.

You’d made preparations of your own, too. You had a rough idea of what you wanted to try on, and you’re determined not to leave empty-handed today. All that’s left is to slip into the dresses you’ve picked.

But when you finally zip this one up, it’s… not what you’d hoped for. And deep down, part of you knows—it’s not the dress’s fault.

“Babe, I don’t look good in this dress…”

Sylus lounges on the fitting room couch, one arm stretched out on top of the backrest. He’s been sitting here this whole time, thoroughly enjoying the view each time you emerge from behind the curtains.

He’s cleared out the store today for you to shop “in peace,” so it’s just you, him, and two store assistants in the room.

He frowns at your words, raking his piercing eyes up and down the length of your body once more. A disbelieving smirk curls his lips as he drawls, “Don’t be ridiculous, sweetie. You look ravishing in this dress—in fact, I’ll have them ring it up for us right now—”

“I-I don’t think I want this one, babe…” You sigh as you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, the dress cinching your body in all the wrong places. It just looks…unflattering.

Sylus waves the assistants away and studies your expression once more, realization dawning. He’s always thought you pulled off everything you’ve ever worn—to him, this dress is no different. But he knows about your insecurities…

“…I’ve made my opinion clear, Kitten, but you can’t seem to get it in that head of yours that you are unreasonably beautiful.”

You smile at his words, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. You’ve heard him compliment your looks a thousand times now, but insecurities aren’t so easily vanquished. They start and end with… well, you. No one else can touch them.

“I love you for that, Sy—but it’s not that simple. I’ve lived with these thoughts my whole life.”

His arrogant stance softens, and though the sureness in his voice remains. To him, your beauty is fact—an indisputable one.

“I don’t mean to undermine what you’ve been through. I only mean to highlight my perspective.” He stands up and twirls you around like you’re dandelions waltzing through a ballroom of wind, his hands memorizing every curve, every dip of your body. “If you could only see yourself the way I do… I’d squander the world for just another glimpse.”

Zayne leans against a wall, your leather purse in hand. He waits patiently while you try on each piece of clothing, occasionally pulling out his phone to skim through articles on cardiothoracic surgery training in Japan.

You step out of the fitting room wearing a form-fitting black dress, unsure what to think of it. It feels a little tight around your hips, and though you’ve been eager to try it on for days, you can’t help but feel disappointed. You glance at your reflection in the mirror and fight the urge to retreat into the fitting room before anyone else sees you.

Zayne catches the panic in your eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“It’s just… This dress makes me look chubbier, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It accentuates your curves, which is hardly something to be upset about. You look beautiful—as always.”

His words warm you, but the tightness in your chest remains, your insecurities gripping your ribcage like a clawed hand. “I should lose some weight…” you mutter.

His brows knit together as he steps closer, concern softening his features. “Don’t sacrifice your health and wellbeing for the sake of meeting society’s so-called 'beauty standards. They’re unrealistic, fabricated, and frankly, unattainable. Your natural body is perfect just the way it is, and I mean that." He presses a kiss to your forehead. "This dress is gorgeous because you’re wearing it.”

He cups your cheek in his palm, and you smile up at him. Sensitive, adoring Zayne. While it’ll take more than an ultra-romantic speech to quiet the voice inside your head, his reassurance soothes the ache you’ve carried for years.

What once was a scar is now a patch of healing tissue—thanks in part to Zayne’s unwavering affirmations, and in part to your own efforts to love and accept yourself.

A group of girls are parading their outfits a few booths down from yours, giggling and squealing as they pose for photos. They’re stunning—slim and toned in all the right places, with flawless skin and sculpted jawlines.

You glance down at the dress you’re wearing, and it feels like a punch to the gut. How can you ever compete with girls like that? How do you look next to them? A nauseating wave of envy and self-doubt crashes over you, and your eyes instinctively seek out Rafayel for reassurance.

He’s staring at you with wide, hazy eyes, lips slightly parted as his gaze roams over your body. You blush, self-conscious, crossing your arms over your torso.

He jolts back to reality, the misty look on his face evaporating. “What was that for? I was enjoying the view.”

“You don’t have to lie, you know. This dress isn’t for me…”

He shakes his head, clearly baffled, and closes the distance between you in two strides. A half-smirk pulls at his lips as he says, “You’re kidding me, right? You look fuckin’ hot.” His hands trail down your thighs, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Can we get this one? Please?” he murmurs into your ear.

You gently push him away. “...Nah. It’s unflattering on me.”

Rafayel scoffs, but there’s a surprising tenderness in his eyes when he says, “Listen, babe, you’re the most drop-dead gorgeous woman on earth, and the fact that you can’t see that? It genuinely breaks my heart. Tragic, really—”

You smack his arm and chuckle, the heaviness in your chest already starting to lift. Bless Rafayel and his ability to pull you from the depths of your own mind. Turning back to the mirror, you glance at your reflection again and think… It does make your ass look amazing. “…Maybe I will get it.”

“That’s my girl.” His grin turns wicked. “I can’t wait to take it off you…”

Xavier is dozing off on the couch, his head drooping and his eyelids fluttering. It’s an adorable sight—one that nearly distracts you from the reflection in the dressing room mirror.

Your hands smooth over the fabric of the blue cocktail dress, its fit on your body…disappointing. This isn’t how it looked on the mannequin, you think, heat blooming in your cheeks. All at once, your insecurities come crashing down, suffocating you with reminders that you’re “less than”, that you’ll never feel truly comfortable in your own skin—

“I like that dress. You look good.”

You spin around to see Xavier now sitting upright, his gaze fixed on your back. “You think so?”

He nods, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. But then again, everything looks good on you. It’s you.”

You bite your lip, hesitant to turn around. “You don’t think it makes me look… I don’t know…bigger?”

“Uhh…?” He frowns, confused. “What do you mean? Turn around. I want to see it.”

Slowly, you turn to face him, baring the gentle curve of your breasts and the mound of your tummy. You avert your gaze, fidgeting under the weight of his stare.

“Oh.”

“You don’t like it?” your voice wavers, your heart freezing as the blood drains from your face.

He shakes his head rapidly and shifts in his seat. “N-No, it’s not that… I just— I—” He quickly folds his arms over his lap, and you understand immediately.

A laugh escapes your lips.

He glares at you. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry! You’ve just really boosted my confidence today, that’s all,” you say between giggles. Suddenly, the mirror doesn’t seem so cruel. If this turns him on just by looking at it…

“Yeah, yeah, you’re hot. We get it…” he mutters, still throwing you dirty looks on the car ride home.

You spin around in the yellow sundress, the fabric hugging your curves and accentuating your hips. It looked different when the model wore it online…

Caleb is gawking at you from outside the fitting booth, arms crossed over his chest. “That dress looks so sexy on you, Pips. Let me get it for you—”

“Wait! I, uh… I don’t know how I feel about it…” You try not to betray your emotions, shoving the knot of insecurity down your throat. You’ve always struggled with body image, but you don’t want to worry Caleb by bringing it up.

Or worse—put those ideas into his head.

He steps forward, placing his hands gently on your waist as he takes in the way the fabric cascades down your legs, how it emphasizes your soft curves and full breasts. The very sight of you in it steals the breath from his lungs.

“Is this about your body?” he asks carefully, clearly afraid of striking a nerve.

You look down at your feet and shift uneasily, the nagging feeling intensifying beneath the weight of his gaze.

Caleb leans in and tilts your face up to meet his. “...Hey. I’ve traveled the world, and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, okay?” His thumbs stroke your cheeks with the softness of a summer breeze. “Why else would I be dating you—your personality?”

You glare at him, fighting to suppress a smile.

He wraps you in his arms before you can argue, and you melt into his embrace, allowing yourself—for once—to believe him.

You’re strong, funny, determined, and kind; and let’s not forget the fact that you pulled Caleb, the hottest pilot in any airport and the only man who sees you for exactly who you are.

“You’re the eighth wonder of the world, babe. Inside and out.”

— ⋆˙⟡ ©berrryparfait

《 please do not copy / plagiarize / translate my works or publish them on any other platforms. 》

[luvth0t]

I’VE MISSED YOU ━ L.N

in which you’re unable to stay away from lando like you’d intended after his win in monaco

warnings; unprotected sex, reader needs to stand up but whatever, public sex lowkey, oral m receiving, plenty of praise, degradation like once, hair pulling, choking, thigh riding, rough smut i guess i think that’s it ! lando could be toxic he could be genuine we don’t know ! unedited rn xox

you swore you’d stay away.

you were beyond settling, unable to pretend to be satisfied with what lando could offer these days.

it wasn’t your fault you weren’t good at keeping your word.

“where are you going?” lando’s voice chimed innocently from where he was sprawled on his bed, watching as you stumbled around the room.

the sheets draped over his lower half did little to offer modesty, tanned and toned abdomen on display decorated in red lines left by your nails only moments ago.

you ignored his words as you shrugged your underwear up your wobbly legs ━ eyes scanning the room in search of all your clothing, lando not having been precise in discarding them across the floor.

“we are well pass this,” the brit practically scoffed, jokingly speaking; not understanding why you’d been so quick to scurry off. soft touches and you cuddled up to his chest was what he was used too.

“this was a mistake.” you huffed, not offering him a glance. sounding annoyed, because you were. with yourself.

he’d laughed. laughed. you envied how unbothered he could be, rolling your eyes as you found your skirt, shimmying it up your legs as lando stood and tugged his boxers on.

“ouch,” he mused; hand resting over his heart as if your words had stung.

he didn’t believe them, so they wouldn’t effect him.

“i told you this isn’t happening again,” you offered an explanation, not that he asked for one; lips pursed and you could cringe at how unconvincing you sounded.

he assumed that had been a lie when you said that all those weeks ago. and then presumed he was correct considering you ended up back here in his sheets tonight.

“yet here you are,” lando chuckled; and your self annoyance was beginning to spread with his inability to realise you were trying to be serious.

“it’s not happening again.” you finally looked at him, and lando would be worried with how stern you looked if he actually believed you.

but he didn’t. maybe because you were the one who seeked him out tonight, or maybe because he didn’t want to believe you. regardless; such conversation was one he’d like to avoid.

you huffed when you couldn’t find your shirt, lando watching in slight amusement ━ not complaining of the sight, red and purple marks scattering your skin thanks to himself.

“have i lost my touch?” lando joked; well aware that wasn’t the case. not when you’d just cum around his fingers and cock three times.

you took a short breath, standing straight and stopping in your movements to face him.

“i’m no longer fine with just being a fuck of convenience,” you told him honestly, shoulders shrugging and only then did you capture his face falter momentarily.

eyebrows pinching together, lips tugging into a small frown which left as quick as it came.

“that’s what you think this is?” his question was somewhat accusing, but he sounded so laid back it wouldn’t make sense for it to be as such.

he ducked down and swiped your shirt off the floor; but he refrained from offering it to you.

you didn’t want to answer his question, despite it being an obvious answer. not needing it rubbed in that your wants didn’t align. but when you went to grab the material from his hand, he was quick to draw it back; eyebrows raising in question. silently telling you to answer him.

“how else would you describe it?” you challenged; head tilting aside as you refrained from rolling your eyes.

he faltered once more; this wasn’t what he signed up for. he avoided this last time, when you had ‘ended’ this arrangement that had been ongoing for months now.

“fun.” lando shrugged, and when you let out a dry laugh he wanted to wince, groaning as he shook his head. “you know what i mean,” he attempted to follow up.

he didn’t know what to call it, but he knew convenience wasn’t the right word. you were much more than just convenient.

“i know what to expect from you lando,” you hummed; successful in grabbing your shirt from his hand this time; pulling it over your head. “i’m not gonna ask for more. but this isn’t enough for me anymore,” you shrugged.

your explanation was fair, he couldn’t complain. couldn’t throw it back in your face, tell you he already warned you he didn’t want anything serious. make it your problem. or tell you that you were wrong, your expectations were wrong.

because they weren’t wrong.

this was his problem, because you made sense. you were doing what was right by you. so why did it make him feel like shit? he should be grateful you weren’t putting him in an awkward spot he’d been in too many times, forced to let others down.

“thanks for the fun night,” you’d smiled; and he had to refrain from scoffing in disbelief. it being his turn to struggle in mustering a smile.

you knew that wouldn’t be the last time you saw him, but you had hoped it’d be the last time you were so close to the driver. the last time you melted in his touch and came undone from a mere few whispers and lingering touches.

you’d hoped that’d be the case, and it seemed more and more likely as the months went past.

he knew you were in monaco, he always knew which races you were attending; despite you never telling him. it was almost a game, how you would somehow end up at his hotel or bed room despite no plans to do so.

he’d barely crossed your mind, it wasn’t like it was hard to avoid a driver. hot property, even more so here in monaco. there were stars and chaos every where you turned in the paddock, security crowded around anyone with some sort of status; it was impossible to stumble across the mclaren driver.

ignoring his presence was a lot harder however when he was stood on the top step of the podium, as if the posters of his face and name everywhere wasn’t enough.

suddenly his face was plastered everywhere at once, and only his. name dropping from everyone’s lips.

you’d like to think there was no bad blood; but he was hard to resist and you almost hated him for it. suddenly he was everywhere ━ yet not in reach.

a good thing.

so, you were optimistic. if getting near him was hard before, it’d be ten times harder now. man of the moment; you felt as if you would be in the clear.

so how the fuck did you manage to be only five people back in the line for the exclusive monaco club, VIP passes still hung around your necks, when lando arrived.

ushered through the front doors, no need to pay or wait like every other eager party go hoping their name had made it to the list, cash at the ready to pay their way in.

he shouldn’t have spotted you, not with the hectic lights and people cheering him on and attempting to grab his attention.

but he did, of course he did.

“hey, hey. they’re with me,” lando stopped in his tracks; ushering you and your friend out of line towards him ━ your face hardening as he smirked cockily towards you.

you wanted to stay where you were. tell him you would wait and get in yourself. pride too strong to spare yourself 10 minutes and a couple hundred dollars.

your best friend however was not passing up an opportunity to get in for free, nor cause a scene as people quickly made way for you. so you couldn’t put up much of a fight as you stepped out of line and followed the driver and a few others inside.

it almost felt shameful, as if you were just some pretty girl he’d picked out to entertain himself with. but you only viewed it that way because you feared that had been true in the past.

“would you believe me if i said this is almost the highlight of the day?” lando spoke to you with a wide grin, head ducked down towards you to ensure you heard him over the music growing in volume as you entered the venue.

you’d scoffed, rolled your eyes even; it appeared opting to be cold was the easiest option. friendliness never lasted with you two; being friendly became flirty. flirting lead to touching and suddenly you’d be trapped beneath the nearest surface and his hot body.

“no.” your answer was short, ‘forgetting’ to mumble the obvious, a congratulations. you’d feel bad if he wasn’t getting it from every angle however.

his grin only widened however, bemused at your words. you weren’t surprised, you doubted anything would wipe the smile of his face right now.

a breath of relief escaped you when someone grabbed at his arm and tugged him along, turning his attention elsewhere as you turned to your friend.

drinks were a need.

in hindsight opting to stay in the secluded area provided for the mclaren driver was probably a bad idea; but it was so crowded you stood by your earlier thoughts.

he’d be out of reach. everyone in here was striving for his attention, it wouldn’t be hard to avoid it.

the free drinks and friendly faces proved as enough of a distraction; music and alcohol flowing through your veins, so much so you’d join in on the cheers every-time someone toasted to the driver, or his name popped up on a board with bottles of champagne arriving.

an arm wrapping around your waist should’ve been alarming, but shamefully you recognised the bracelets and touch immediately; body naturally welcoming such action instead of pulling away.

“you haven’t congratulated me.” his voice was low and in your ear, accent thick and you had to take a sharp breath. it was stupid, ridiculous the way such an action could have your mind growing hazy.

“haven’t i?” you posed the question innocently, bringing your drink to your lips as if it would offer you refuge from the temptation behind you.

you’d lost your friend ages ago, and suddenly you couldn’t recognise many people around you. or maybe you didn’t make an effort to, because the company you quietly craved was the man behind you.

“nope,” he popped the ‘p,’ lips lingering next to your ear momentarily before he pulled away to also bring his drink to his lips, you taking the moment to turn around and face him. “not very nice you know?”

you’d rolled your eyes again, a small laugh escaping you. wanting to point out the fact that everyone was dropping to their knees to ring his praise. he didn’t need it from you.

did it make your heart skip a beat that he wanted it though? of course it did, despite your brain screaming that it shouldn’t. it was too easy to cling onto anything this man did.

“well done,” you spoke, voice laced with sarcasm despite their being truth to your words. “i’m so, so, so proud of you.”

he’d chuckled, face lighting up in amusement once more; a vast contrast to every other conversation he’d had tonight. the very reason he’d sought you out.

he thought it spoke for something, the fact his mind had been consumed with so many thoughts of you despite the win he’d just accomplished.

“thank you.” he grinned, and it was as if on queue he was being tugged away once more; and suddenly, you could breath again.

you took the time to grab some much needed air, a balcony not too far. it was a bit of a blur, the next hour or so.

ending up back on the dance floor, familiar faces all around, drinks continuously flowing ━ reuniting with your friend who’s lipstick was now smudged and hair slightly tangled, your hands quick to fix it up with small giggles.

you were loosening up, so much so when lando next appeared with two drinks in hand and daring eyes you couldn’t help but accept.

you were dying by your own hand, you should politely decline and slip back into the crowd. but he was always so hard to ignore, especially in a black button up and messy curls.

you’d cheers, both raising your glasses to your lips; somehow both still relatively sober in comparison to those around you.

lando had been doing too much talking to get much alcohol in him, also pacing himself ━ in no way would he be crashing out early.

you knew your limits, you too didn’t want the night to end prematurely.

“you’re not mad at me are you?” lando’s question had to be shouted for you to hear, your eyes narrowing at such as you shook your head.

you were somewhat surprised at his efforts, his ability to seek you out in the crowd that was here for him. all for what? to ask you that question?

“why would i be mad at you?” you deflected. because you knew he had a point.

you weren’t mad at him, obviously. he hadn’t done anything; you’d been the one to… get attached. but you were quite clearly being distant and cold; and you didn’t feel like explaining why.

he shrugged his shoulders, face scrunching up as if he was thinking momentarily, giving you time to admire how pretty he looked. how his large hand wrapped around the glass, the way his arms looked with his sleeves rolled up.

“you’re avoiding me.” he quirked a brow, and you were rolling your eyes once more, like a broken record. the grin on his face showed he didn’t care to sound desperate; that he was well aware why you were acting in such way.

he remembered the last conversation between the pair of you. how you swore off the two of you. much to his dismay.

“i’m not,” you huffed. “i’m keeping friendly distance,” you corrected playfully, eyebrows raising as he nodded unconvincingly ━ lips parting in fake shock.

it was pathetic, you already could feel it. your self restraint slipping away. suddenly posing yourself the question, would it be that bad if you entertained yourself with the idea of him just one more time?

“right,” lando practically sung, a laugh following suit as he downed the rest of his drink. “there’s no fun in that.”

you’d just shrugged at his words, no answer for him because you agreed. this wasn’t fun, it was hard. it would be so much easier to let yourself take the usual reckless route.

so you chose easy, and when someone appeared to place a drink in lando’s hand and capture a few minutes of his attention, you allowed the driver to throw his arm over your shoulders; tugging you closer to his side. he didn’t want you slipping away into the crowd again.

you let yourself stay in his grasp, mindlessly swaying to the music and awaiting for him to finish talking.

you should’ve taken that time to realise this was what you were meant to avoid, to duck out from his hold and busy yourself once more.

but instead you found yourself leaning into his side; admiring the way his fingertips danced on your collarbone ━ oblivious to prying eyes and jealous gazes from those who were hoping to be in your place.

his cologne was intoxicating, his touch was familiar and inviting; and the way he was keeping you close and still paying you attention while everyone tried to get their two cents in with the driver had your stomach flipping.

you hadn’t realised their was a gap in the constant conversation and on flow of people, not till lando’s lips were back next to your ear, a delicate kiss being placed to your neck.

“i’ve missed you,” he’d whispered; your head tilting aside invitingly ━ such contrast to your initial and intended behaviour. but the moment his lips met your skin, all rational plans were out the door.

“good.” you replied, knowing to not grow excited by such confession. not needing to say the words back because he already knew you missed him. you were always missing him.

another kiss was pressed to your skin, and another.

“i mean it.” lando mumbled; your eyes fluttering shut briefly at the feeling of his lips still peppering your skin, the heat spreading to your face.

you were glad you’d made your mind up, having come to the conclusion that one more night with him couldn’t be that bad. thought process definitely influenced by your sexual desires rather than rationality. but it meant you weren’t dwelling on his words and picking them apart, instead focused of the way his hand was now resting on the side of your leg.

“is there a bathroom near?” your question was all lando needed to hear, the pair of you not so subtle as you weaved through the crowd.

his lips were on yours the moment you were in the bathroom, your back being pushed against the door to shut it ━ his fingers finding the lock and the moment he heard it click his hands were on you.

it was messy, and rushed; adrenaline pumping between the pair of you much like the muffled music seeping through the door.

your hands were pawing at each other, his at your waist, then your hips, then your legs; touching what he could of you over the silk dress,

your hands were in his hair, then running down his chest; attempting to pull him closer despite his body pressed against yours.

his hands moved to grab yours, before lifting them up and over your head; pinning them to the door as his lips moved to your jaw, then to your neck.

“lando,” you breathed in need; eyes shutting as you attempted to push forward off the door, wanting to touch him in anyway. you were no match for his strength however.

he tsked quietly, kissing at your skin with such intent it had you whimpering.

“what do you want?” his question was almost a taunt, knee pushing between your thighs because he knew exactly what to do to have you squirming.

you felt helpless, needy and desperate. but not one bit regretful or ashamed you found yourself here again.

“you, anything,” you breathed; hips rutting against his leg slightly; the action not unnoticed as a cocky smirk grew on his lips.

your eyes poured into his, watching as he bathed the sight of you in ━ flustered and worked up already.

“yeah?” he hummed, releasing your hands now so he could cup your cheek; making it hard for you to nod but you attempted to regardless.

“want you to fuck me,” you elaborated; taking the chance to touch him, hand going straight to the buldge in his jeans which had him hissing.

you two would often take your time. lando liked to have you spread open for him, a few orgasms deep thanks to his fingers or tongue first before fucking you. take his time in kissing every inch of your body, exploring your mouth; kissing you and touching you all he could.

but both of you had a sense of urgency tonight. keen to feel him inside you, aware their was plenty of people awaiting the driver; that the night had barely begun in the grand scheme of things.

the fact you’d avoided him for so long, like promised but god it’d been too long. he would struggle to draw this out the way he wanted to.

“barely touched you baby,” he pointed out with a smirk; as if he was not feeling the same need you were.

you would’ve paid more attention to the way your stomach flipped at the casual drop of the nickname, but his actions captured your attention before you could dwell.

it was a relief as he moved you to the sink counter, pressing on your back to bend you over the surface; your hands finding a grip on the counter as your eyes settled on him in the mirror. a position you’d only be in for him.

spreading your legs was easy as you watched him, flipping the skirt of your dress up and merely pushing your panties aside; fingers swiping through your wetness, entering you once then twice.

“gotta make sure this isn’t a mistake hm?” lando’s question was a taunt, quoting you, hands leaving your figure as he unzipped his pants and freed his cock, leaving you to whimper and watch in the mirror.

he didn’t make the move to touch you, prolonging your torture; hips swaying slightly as you dwelled on his words.

his eyes were pouring into yours through the mirror, your cheeks heated. his reminder that you had once claimed you didn’t want this anymore had you speechless, not suddenly rational.

“what changed your mind?” his hands moved to squeeze your ass, cock pressing against your entrance; leaving you with nothing but anticipation and emptiness. “cause i won? good enough for you now?”

you would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t in such a compromising position, his wicked grin enough to show his words were simply throw away comments, not an insight into his actual assumptions.

“lando please,” you whined; hips attempting to push back onto him but his hands on your ass held you in place; chest rising at the sight of you so needy for him. a sight he’d never get sick of.

“your words not mine baby,” he reminded you; tongue flicking over his bottom lip as he took in the sight of you momentarily, your pants and inability to keep still due to your need for him always something he loved to be witness too.

he was usually gentle with you at first, would warm you up; start off slow and build up to the pace that would have tears streaming down your pretty face. but he was eager tonight, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, and by the way you were looking at him in the mirror told him you felt the same.

“gotta fuck some sense into you yeah?” his question was matched with his hand tangling in your hair, grasping a few strands before tugging you up harshly; your back meeting his chest and a gasp escaping you, a whimper following. “yeah?” he repeated when you failed to answer.

you tried to nod quickly, hips pushing back once more to little success with the position he had you in.

his lips were next to your ear now, and the chuckle he let out had your thighs attempting to squeeze together.

“please,” you whimpered; desperation growing pathetically quickly. it was almost pathetic, how he could shorten your vocabulary to pleas and curses in such little time.

lando would like to say he could do this all night, but that would be a lie. he groaned audibly at your whimper; chest now pushed forward towards the mirror beautifully, still with a perfect view of your face as well.

he gave you no warning as he slid inside of you, your jaw going slack as he bottomed out; letting go of your hair and pushing your back down once more.

your hands flied to the counter again, moaning at the stretch as he groaned at the way your walls hugged him tightly.

he didn’t give you the usual time to adjust, moving immediately and thrusting deeply inside of you, hands using your hips to meet his movements.

“swear you’re fucking made for me,” lando groaned as his head fell back, pounding into your tight cunt repetitively, your moans escaping each time as your face contorted in pleasure.

it was too good, you weren’t sure how you could ever actually give this up.

you attempted to keep your moans hushed, although with the volume of the music you weren’t at much risk of being heard; which was lucky. because you were struggling to keep quiet; failing actually.

your eyes rolled back when lando didn’t fail to hit that spot inside of you repetitively, hands still gripping your hips tightly.

his grunts and groans were addictive, so much so you wanted to open your eyes and bask in the sight of him; but the pleasure was too much to do so.

lando however wouldn’t settle for such, hand tangling in your hair once more, tugging once and pulling your head up slightly; clear intentions to his actions.

“eyes on me pretty girl,” he breathed regardless, and you did as he said; being met with his ones through the mirror; lazy smile gracing his features as you whimpered and gripped the counter tightly.

you’d never expect to get off so quickly from pure penetration, but you were. suppose it was made easier with the sight of him and his hands gracing your skin; plus his filthy mouth.

“so good,” you whined out; not that you needed to vocalise such thing, it was already clear; but he loved your praise as much as you loved his.

he’d hummed in agreement, squeezing your ass in appreciation as his groans began to grow in frequency.

he was close, but in no way would he ever cum before you. his hand sneaking around your waist and dipping in between your thighs, finding your clit with ease.

suddenly you were seeing stars as his fingers circled your clit expertly, like he knew you like the back of his hand.

“cum for me baby, go on,” his words of encouragement were all you needed to hear as he continued to thrust in and out of you; releasing on his cock practically immediately at his demand.

your walls squeezed him perfectly, his name so pretty coming from your lips ━ his own high hitting him as he came inside of you with a groan.

it was oddly satisfying, a quick release; a new experience for the pair of you; both panting and coming down as he slid out of you.

he was gentle, a contrast to before, as he turned you round and sat you on the counter.

your breaths were heavy as you watched him, his hands reaching up your thighs and tugging your underwear down your legs before shoving them in his pocket, only then pulling your dress down for you.

“pervert,” you mocked with a teasing smile, his own one growing as he rolled his eyes ━ hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“collecting trophies today,” he shrugged; a laugh escaping you as your face screwed up ━ his humour never lost on you as you pushed against his chest.

“i should slap you for that,” you taunted, failing to pretend to be disgusted as you grinned at him ━ cheeks still flushed and chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath, a small chuckle escaping him.

there was a few moments of silence as lando adjusted himself, zipping his jeans back up and straightening out his shirt; your own hands moving to flatten your own hair.

“you gonna stick around?” lando’s question fell upon you with his intent gaze, eyes showing genuine interest.

your own eyebrows quirked in interest, unexpectedly. you’d assumed this was it for the night. he got his fix.

“maybe,” you shrugged; not in a teasing way, but genuine. you weren’t going to overstay your welcome. you were sure the casual party goers would be falling off the next couple hours, the ones who just wanted to get a glimpse of the driver.

you were assuming you fell into that category, not his inner circle.

“you should,” he hummed; and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you and the driver almost frowned.

“you need to celebrate,” you hummed; patting his chest lightly with a small laugh.

his eye roll was one of sass, like you should’ve expected. what you didn’t expect was for him to insist on you keeping him company.

“yeah, i plan on.” he spoke like it was obvious, thumb rubbing your inner thigh mindlessly.

you didn’t respond, looking over your shoulder into the mirror; wiping the slight smudges of your mascara, which thankfully didn’t cause any issues.

next was the corner of your lips, ensuring no lip gloss was where it shouldn’t be; lando watching you as you did so.

“didn’t you tell me when i next win a race i could do whatever i want with you?” lando was gaining your attention again, finger under your chin and directing your gaze back to him by turning your head; still stood between your legs.

you giggled, eyebrows raising; not needing much reminder of the words you definitely muttered. or maybe messaged; maybe both.

“that was because i wasn’t in miami,” you hummed, head tilting aside. “you don’t invite me to races, remember?” you sassed.

you watched as his face faltered, before his eyes narrowed into a playful glare; one you returned with a teasing smile; as if to say you weren’t being serious.

you two moved pass your comment, you made sure of it; although it would linger on lando’s mind.

“come on, you have people waiting i’m sure,” you hummed; patting his chest and ushering him back so you could hop off the counter, onto wobbly legs.

you rejoined the crowd as discreetly as possible, despite your lack of underwear and sticky thighs; however you were in no way to be ashamed, not with some of the activities going on around you.

people cheered when lando came into view, the man enveloped immediately.

“don’t you dare go anywhere!” lando managed to yell out to you before he was dragged off again; leaving you to laugh and only hum.

it was only your friend who met you with suspicious eyes, you found it comical she was the first person you came across; sheepishly smiling.

“oh you’re so full of shit!” your friend yelled, your cheeks heating as you shook your head; even pouting as you realised you had no defence.

or shame or regret. yet, at least.

“stop,” you whined as you hit her lightly, huffing as you grabbed her drink off her ━ downing it quickly as she laughed.

“no judgement; i knew you wouldn’t stay away,” she mused ━ and your eyes were rolling once more that night, shaking your head as if you had no idea what she was talking about. as if you too shared the same thought process, as much as you’d deny it.

you moved the focus of the pair of you on quickly, returning to dancing and socialising ━ people coming and going as the hours ticked by into the early morning, crowd thinning but not by much.

lando’s words were ringing in your head; don’t go anywhere. but when it was almost four you were thinking of leaving, doubting lando would be making your company once more this night.

why you wanted to keep him company? you wish you knew. if you could figure out why you were unable to avoid the man your life would be a lot easier. but maybe tonight was different, maybe it was a comfort.

a comfort to know he would spend a memorable night of his life, with you. a night he’d never forget; you’d be right there. it would be nice to know you weren’t the only one clinging onto the idea of the pair of you; that he too would reminisce and think what it.

your doubt continued to grow though, alongside the temptation of your comfortable bed.

you were stupid to doubt him however.

you spotted him easily, considering the crowd that seemed to follow him everywhere tonight.

you watched as his eyes darted around the room, almost urgently, searching out something or someone.

searching out you.

when his eyes met yours you watched as he grinned widely, shoulders relaxing as he suddenly moved with intent; weaving past the people surrounding him towards you.

you watched in amusement, almost shock; surprised he’d meant it. confused if you thought too hard.

“you’re still here,” he was still grinning ear to ear, hand finding your waist almost immediately when he was in reach.

you mumbled something playfully about how it wasn’t by choice, earning a laugh.

“we’re moving up to a booth,” his statement was an invitation; and suddenly plans of going back home were long forgotten.

all it took was a nod before his hand took yours, fingers intertwined and he was leading the way to a booth, that was decorated in more bottles of champagne and a ‘congrats lando’ sign; lucky party goers and friends filling the seats, you shuffling in next to the driver.

lando’s hand didn’t leave you. whether it was on your thigh, your hand, your waist; your shoulder; he was always touching you as the conversations flowed.

you failed to notice the way he tugged you closer to his side when you laughed a little too hard for his liking at one of his friends jokes. or the way his eyes were lingering on you every moment he had a break in conversation.

you knew what it looked like however, the pair of you. you knew your friend would laugh at the sight, ask you what the fuck you were doing. but as the crowd continued to fall off and disperse, and you gained more of lando’s attentions; you had little room to care.

the booth had emptied out, for how long who knows; you hadn’t caught on to the way lando had not so subtly hinted to the last couple of guys lingering to leave.

“have i told you how good you look tonight?” lando’s question was accompanied by his hand returning to your thigh, resting higher than it had earlier on ━ head tilting towards you.

you’d giggled, leaning back into your seat and shifting to face him, side pressed against the back of the booth as opposed to your back now.

“no,” you told him; eyes flickering over his face, the moles you’d counted too many times whenever you woke up first after a night together; his features always so much harder to ignore up close.

“look beautiful,” he hummed, and though he sounded incredibly sincere you couldn’t help but laugh.

“what? you do, you are,” lando huffed; not amused with your laughter ━ although the sound of your laugh had his lips naturally curving upwards despite his dismay, hand squeezing your thigh gently.

your cheeks heated despite you shaking your head, hands moving up in innocence.

“i didn’t say anything,” you defended; not elaborating on what appeared to be doubt. not at your own expense. more so just his intentions.

you didn’t want to hear his compliments that had your heart fluttering. or notice they way he was looking at you which such admiration.

you couldn’t afford to let your mind pick at and analyse every word and action with a hope that maybe he too felt the same as you.

lando hummed aimlessly at your defence, hand dangerously high now on your thigh ━ but it felt right, like it belonged there. regardless, the feeling of it creeping upwards had your sense suddenly on high alert.

“i’ve missed you,” lando’s words left his lips before he could stop them, but he didn’t show any regret or panic ━ eyes pouring into yours.

it’s the second time he’d said such thing tonight, and you still didn’t want to hear it. even in your tipsy state, it sent alarm through your nerves. don’t believe him, don’t get your hopes up.

your eyes were quick to leave his, hand reaching for your champagne glass in front of you; humming to try dismiss his words, missing the way his eyes squinted as he watched on.

“you don’t believe me,” he chuckled lowly as you sipped your drink, frame tensing as you prolonged shifting towards him again.

you weren’t given much choice though, his hand ━ the one not planted on your thigh, grasping your chin between his thumb and finger, bringing your attention back to him as you placed your drink back down.

his eyebrows raised expectantly, silently telling you to speak. to confirm his suspicions. his thumb absentmindedly wiping a drop of champagne from the corner of your mouth as he waited.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.” you spoke softly, masking the weight of your words with a soft smile; watching as his face flickered in thought.

“you don’t know that.” he was quick, unlike you, tone one of certainty you almost envied; his grasp still set on your chin as if he was scared you’d try escape his gaze once more. a reasonable fear.

“yeah okay.” you admitted defeat, in no way wanting to discuss this right now. not while you were so close to him, so keen to get under him once more. you couldn’t think straight about him when he was invading your senses.

he didn’t believe you suddenly believed him, but he wouldn’t push further; not when you were still in grasp and glowing in amusement.

the driver went to speak again; but for once you got on the front foot. there wasn’t much distance between the pair of you, so kissing him before he could get any words out was easy.

and maybe lando should’ve held his ground, stayed true on his intentions to reassure you. but naturally he found himself kissing back.

the light grasp on your chin turned to a firm hold of the side of your head, beckoning you closer as your hand planted on his chest.

you pulled away momentarily, barely; just so your lips left his; feeling his breath fan your face. you felt as if you’d overstepped, knowing he had reservations about pda in public. people spoke, and you weren’t his.

his fingers ran through your hair delicately, as if he knew what thoughts were going through your head; and he didn’t hesitate to guide you back towards him; lips meeting once more.

it was more heated this time; nowhere near as messy as the one in the bathroom though.

he needed you closer, shifting his grip to your hips to pivot you up and onto his lap, your body sliding perfectly between his and the table behind you, straddling his lap with no complaints.

it was out of character, knowing someone could walk up into the secluded section and see the pair of you, but if he didn’t care, neither did you.

your dress rode up your legs from your new position, not enough to expose you thankfully; but considering your underwear still sat in the drivers pocket, the rough fabric of his pants against your clit had you whimpering against his lips.

the sound went straight to his cock, which was already straining against his pants; he’d been fighting a semi since you slipped into the booth next to him. but the way you were slowly and not so subtlety grinding your hips against him made it a lot harder to ignore.

it also had an idea forming in the wicked mind of his.

you were left to catch your breath as he pulled away this time, hands lifting you momentarily and easily handling you to straddle just one of his thighs now, your cheeks heating as you immediately caught on. it wasn’t the first time you’d been in this position with him. except last time it was in the privacy of his apartment while he was on a work call.

“anything i want right?” he breathed out, intense was his stare as his hands spread across your sides, smoothing your dress down despite wanting to rip it off of you.

it was like a trance when he got like this, eyes darker ━ the way his jaw was clenched, his gaze alone having you feel the need to squirm and stutter.

your head looked over your shoulder, just once, needing the confirmation you were as alone as you could be; music still pumping, voices still heard from the dance floor down below. but you were alone up here.

that’s all you needed to know.

“yeah,” you confirmed, hands grasping at his shirt where they were previously planted on his chest ━ left to watch as his lips curved upwards into that damn smirk.

“go on then,” he hummed, adjusting slightly in his seat, getting comfortable as his head tilted back ever so slightly. “use me to get off.” he sounded so casual, your cheeks heating up as you suddenly wished you’d accepted that last round of shots half an hour ago.

but you didn’t need any more motivation when his hands tightened on your waist and dragged your hips for you ━ your jaw going slack from the sudden pressure.

his lips twitched upwards cockily once more, watching as it sprung you into action; your hips following his movements and rutting against his thigh, chasing the feeling you knew only he could give you.

the drivers hands folded behind his head now, watching intently as your bottom lip ran between your teeth, eyes flickering up and down your frame.

“atta girl,” he praised through a soft hum, and you had to bite down harshly on the inside of your cheek to refrain from moaning.

he looked fucking incredible; and you were missing the feeling of his hands on you, hips working faster as if it’d motivate him to touch you again.

he had you read, he always did. he knew what you wanted; could tell by the way your eyes were pleading with his. how you were fighting back a pout and whine. your grip on his shirt had tightened, practically tugging at the material.

lando could be cruel, but he was in no mood to deny himself tonight - he’d give you something; hand moving to cup your jaw, thumb pressing against your soft lips.

you didn’t miss a beat, allowing the digit to enter your mouth without any hesitation; lando watching the way your eyes almost glistened in submission as he pressed down on your tongue.

you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, grunting slightly at the mere sight of you ━ your hips still grinding against him desperately as you treated his thumb as if it was his cock.

he was almost in disbelief, how he had you like this for him, where really anyone could see if they were to walk up the stairs. it was ridiculous actually, and stupid; both of you being incredibly idiotic, but too lust driven to care.

he wasn’t oblivious to the fact you made him think irrationally.

“fucking look at you,” he muttered under his breath, head tilting in slight awe; but there was a teasing tone underneath. “so pretty like this, so needy hm?” he was speaking so sweet it was sickening considering he was looking at you with a taunting grin.

you whined, unable to shut yourself up this time, surprised you’d kept quiet so long. your thighs twitched a few times, still desperately chasing your high like he’d told you too.

it was building, your stomach was tightening and you could feel the way your hips were beginning to move erratically. as could he.

“come on baby,” he encouraged ━ sliding his thumb out of your mouth, selfishly wanting to hear you despite your best efforts to stay quiet. “cum for me yeah, all for me,” lando edged you on; strategic as he tensed his leg and jolted it upwards once then twice.

it was all you needed, your second orgasm of the night hitting you as you shook in his lap.

“oh fuck,” you moaned through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough for the music to drown you out; your body folding over to hide your head in his neck, muffling any other sounds to escape you.

“there you go,” he soothed, hand sliding down your back delicately, his other brushing the hair off your face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “good girl, so fucking good,”

even if your slightly dazed state the affection had your chest tightening, still not used to the soft moments he always found time for between orgasms.

you took a few moments to compose yourself, lifting your head sheepishly as your eyes met his once more.

“your pants are gonna be ruined,” you mumbled, pouting up at him in slight embarrassment ━ watching as he chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“last thing i care about right now,” the driver smirked, adjusting the strap of your dress that had fallen down your arm ━ eyes lingering on your chest for a brief moment as he did so.

“should i call the car?” he asked you, lips pressing a kiss to your neck now, delicate this time, purely because he knew if he got too handsy now he’d not be able to stop himself.

you nodded, no need to think about the prospect of going home with him ━ you shouldn’t be surprised at this point, you couldn’t resist him. it was a fact.

the pair of you got outside relatively smoothly, in better shape than most of the crowd who were still here. you let him drag you to the exit as he simply waved and dismissed anyone who tried to speak to him, large hand enveloping yours.

the car was waiting, a bouncer opening the door for the pair of you as you slid into the backseat, not phased by the fact the sun was now rising.

the privacy shield separating the backseat from the front was all lando needed to see before he was on you again.

rushed and messy once more, you hadn’t even got your seatbelt on ━ hands cupping his cheeks as he leaned over you, closeness a need as your lips moved against his perfectly.

your chest was practically pressed to his, but still his hand found your back, attempting to pull you closer, earning a muffled giggle as you threw one of your legs over his.

“need you so bad,” lando grumbled against your skin as his lips shifted to your jaw, then down your neck, your head falling back invitingly as you grinned.

his lips moved to your cleavage now, kissing at the skin of your breasts ━ and he was about to tug your dress down until you sat up straight and pushed him back towards his seat.

your hands found the zipper of his pants before he could get a word out, the brit relaxing into his seat, in no way going to protest.

lando watched through hooded eyes as you made quick work of freeing his cock, which was painfully hard at this point.

he hissed as your hand wrapped around him, jacking him off once, twice, three times ━ smearing the precum across his tip and down his length.

his head threw back from the initial relief, and he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped him when he felt your soft lips wrap around him.

he glanced down at you quickly, watching as you leant over into his lap, head bobbing up and down now as he gathered your hair into his hand and out of your way.

“fuck, just like that baby,” lando grunted as his hips bucked upwards, hitting the back of your throat momentarily, which made you gag but you didn’t miss a beat in your movements.

your hand gripped his thigh for stability, tongue swirling around him expertly, keen to get him off as his eyes rolled back from a feeling he could only describe as ecstasy.

he could’ve cum there and then, no shame either; but monaco was a small place and the car came to a halt much sooner than he’d liked.

you reluctantly slid off him, wiping your mouth oh so innocently as you did so ━ cheeks flushed and eyes watery, lando fiddling with his pants to try get his hard on back in his boxers.

you giggled slightly, climbing out the car ━ him not too far behind.

lando was sure to thank the driver, emptying his wallet of its cash to provide a tip ━ unsure what the man would’ve heard, but frankly he didn’t care. not when you were in his sights.

the elevator ride up to his apartment mirrored the first moments in the car, your body pressed between his and the wall of the elevator, lips in sync, make out interrupted by the ding of the doors opening.

you were kicking your heels off before he even got the door to his place open, discarding them the moment you stepped inside, before lando was using you to shut the door; not so gentle as he pushed you against the surface.

“nuh uh,” you stopped him as he leant in to kiss you once more; your hands pressing against his chest. “want to make you feel good,” you spoke softly, hands returning to the zipper of his pants to free his cock once more.

his eyes squinted in thought, keen to be inside of you; watching you squirm and hear you scream his name was all he could bloody think about.

you recognised that look. “please,” you added desperately, hands tugging the straps of your dress down, your tits spilling out, which had his eyes shamelessly flickering downwards.

lando couldn’t say no to you, not when you asked so nicely. he simply stepped back, giving you space to sink to your knees as your hand wrapped around his cock once again.

you licked up the base to the tip, eyes fixated above you, watching him as he did so; noticing the way his adam’s apple bobbed from the single action.

“tease me baby and i’ll happily play with your pretty cunt till your crying,” lando grunted out as his hand found its rightful place in your hair, a not so delicate tug for good measure.

you moaned at the action, confirming what you both knew was that you got the reaction you wanted; thighs squeezing together at the ‘threat’ but taking him in your mouth fully regardless. quick to mumble a ‘so impatient’ before hand.

lando’s actions were identical to before, except his head fell forward this time as his free hand grasped the door in front of him ━ your name falling from his lips in a groan.

it only motivated you, the grunts and small sounds he made; so keen to draw more out of him, to hear him praise you like he always does.

his sounds mixed with your own, gagging around his length ━ no matter how many times you found yourself in this spot he would always be too big, but it didn’t stop nor effect your efforts.

and it only turned him on more, refraining from squeezing his eyes shut to watch as your eyes watered once more.

“always gagging for it,” lando spoke cockily, a moan escaping him momentarily before he could continue his taunting. “bit of a slut for me no?” he chuckled lowly through gritted teeth; and he couldn’t stop the grin for forming as you moaned around him.

his head fell back now, a breath of content falling from his lips as he shut his eyes momentarily. “too good to me, fuck,” he grunted, hips thrusting forward momentarily ━ and you let him, anything to get him off sooner.

he knew he was close, but he couldn’t push the need to be inside of you. and while he thought he was out of self restraint for the night, he surprised himself in being able to pull you off of him, using the grip on your hair.

“gotta get inside you love,” he explained himself as if it wasn’t obvious, helping you to your feet as you refrained from huffing, wiping your mouth and chin of the saliva that had gathered.

you didn’t need him to lead you to his room, grateful it was the first door on the right otherwise you probably would’ve both ended up on the floor, not that it’d be the first time.

you properly unzipped your dress and stepped out of it, discarding it on his floor before sitting back on his bed ━ lando following suit, shirt discarded before he was stepping out of his pants and boxers.

you crawled back on the bed as he moved to hover over you, pushing you down to lay on your back before his lips were on yours once more.

kissing him never got old, your hands tangling in his curls as he used his knee to spread your legs apart.

you had no warning before he slid inside of you, easily doing so due to how wet you were, but the stretch was always a shock; jaw dropping as you moaned into his mouth, a sharp tug on his hair.

“fuck, always wrap round me so fucking well,” lando cursed, bottoming out and giving you a moment to adjust ━ well aware you’d be tender from the quickie earlier on in the night.

“lando, please━ fuck,” you whimpered, hands moving to grip at his back, back arching as he began to move; thrusting in and out. he wasn’t slow, but you knew he was holding back.

your eyes watched his intently, his scanning your features and admiring the way your face contorted in pleasure.

“lan, please,” you repeated, whimpering as you spread your legs a little more; keen to feel all of him.

“what? need more hm?” lando asked, the chained necklace dangling from his chest and brushing against your chin with every thrust. “needy little thing,” he grinned, and you could only whine as your eyes fluttered shut momentarily.

his hand shifted to your thigh, grabbing one of your legs and moving it upwards, pushing your knee towards your chest. the new angle allowing him to hit deeper, and suddenly his thrusts were harsher and quicker.

your eyes rolled back instantly, a squeal like moan escaping you before you could even try suppress it, nails dragging down his back as he pounded into you.

“yes, fuck, yes,” you practically chanted as he lando fucked you, hard. the way your eyes rolled back and jaw went slack only had him motivated, eager to draw out every possible sound from you.

he was relentless, you still couldn’t get used to the stamina, how there was never a break in the pace or harshness of his thrusts. no moment to breathe or try compose yourself, choked out moans almost straining your throat from how often he slammed into you.

“look at me baby,” lando demanded, wanting your pretty eyes focused on him ━ he wasn’t surprised you didn’t listen however, well, you didn’t really make sense of his words. a habit you seemed to have formed.

it wasn’t like you could help it, the way your brain seems to shut off the moment he hits that spot inside of you.

his hand around your throat was enough, eyes fluttering open and he squeezed softly; whimpering as you continued to moan and pant, met with his smirk.

“fucked dumb already,” lando grinned, almost boasting as he kept his hand around your throat; not applying much pressure but the feeling of it there alone had your hips spasming momentarily. “so easy for me baby, could have you like this all the time,”

you moaned at his words, hearing him loud and clear this time, nodding pathetically; you’d agree with anything he says right now,

“my pretty girl,” he was always quick with the praise after his harsh words, the contrast always welcome as your hands shifted from his back to his biceps. “all mine,” he reiterated.

the possessive tone he found would have you falling into wishful thinking if you possessed the ability to think straight, but thankfully you couldn’t; not when your vision was starting to be replaced with stars as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

his lips caught yours in another kiss, tongues clashing as you moaned into each others mouths ━ his turn to falter as your walls clenched around him, a string of curses being grunted against your lips.

you didn’t need to tell him you were close, no, he knew your body to well; he pushed your leg further back, as if it was possible, you in no place to recognise any slight discomfort when all you could feel was him inside of you, stretching you out.

you felt the difference in angle again however, eyes rolling back once more as you came hard and fast, his name falling from your lips as you did so.

“good girl baby, cum for me,” lando encouraged; continuing to thrust into you as you rode out your high, back arching and pushing into him.

your walls clenched around him once more, and he came almost immediately; releasing inside of you with a loud groan, your sounds intertwining and melting into one another.

your nails were sure to have left marks along his back, body going limp beneath him as his head dropped to your chest briefly, catching his breath as he too came down from his high.

he wasn’t done though, despite it almost being 7 in the morning, he wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline, the alcohol or you; but sleep was the last thing on his mind and his best guess was because of the latter.

he was moving again before you could fully recover, the sensitivity causing you to whimper immediately, his thrusts only slow now as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“know you’ve got one more in you,” he mumbled, and you wouldn’t ever disagree; nodding quickly as he gradually picked up the pace.

before he got into a rhythm however he slid out, sitting back on his knees and you simply looked at him, awaiting his next move.

he manhandled you onto your stomach easily, as if you were nothing; tugging your hips up and you followed naturally, back arching as your ass propped in the air, his hands grasping and squeezing the soft flesh before sliding back inside of you.

the change in angle once again had you moaning out loudly, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as lando found the pace he’d previously possessed.

your whole body jolted with every thrust, face gradually pushing into the covers, moans muffled as your back arched further.

he didn’t like not hearing you though, obsessed with the way you’d moan and borderline scream his name; so he flew into action, grabbing your hair and tugging so your head was lifted; a loud moan escaping you on cue.

“so fucking good, take me so well,” lando grunted his praise ━ hips slamming into yours.

you couldn’t form words, only replying in little whines and whimpers, choked out moans as your body became overstimulated.

lando knew your limits though, knew how far he could push you. his hand snaking around your waist to find your clit, and rubbing circles on your sensitive bud had your body shaking immediately.

“fuck━ lando, oh my god,” you’d practically cried out, unable to do anything but take all he was giving you, hand in your hair still keeping you in place as he pounded your cunt.

“take it love, know you can,” he grunted; fingers quickening up ━ and he was obsessed with the way your thighs spasmed, your walls clenched around him and your hand reached back to try grip his wrist.

you came again, unable to give warning as your eyes watered from the mere overstimulation.

“there you go, good girl, so so good, could watch you come undone my cock every day,” lando talked you though it, hips still moving relentlessly as he let go of your hair, your front half falling back into the mattress ━ both hands gripping your hips now as he chased his own high.

you whimpered as he fucked you through your high, and when he came inside you again you swear it all became a blur, trying to recover from your back to back orgasms.

lando slid out of you and rolled off of you after he caught his breath; which was much quicker than you. his hand delicately pushing some of your hair back had your head tilting to face him however, a lazy smile grazing your features.

“you’re incredible,” lando mumbled, admiring you quietly; and if you weren’t exhausted you would’ve laughed at him.

“shut up.” you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut, legs still shaking as lando rolled his eyes ━ a stupid smile on his face none the less.

“no running out of me yeah?” lando hummed, arm moving to wrap around your frame, easily pulling you into his chest. and you should’ve been alarmed, gone into self preservation mode and pushed away.

but you couldn’t, simply accepting his embrace that you’d always crave, head finding a spot on his toned chest.

“don’t think i could if i tried,” you laughed, not sure your legs would hold your weight if you tried to stand. let alone walk.

“yeah good, that was the whole point,” lando chuckled playfully, fingers dancing up and down the side of your arm, eyes fixated on you below him.

you laughed softly, knowing this conversation needed to be addressed properly. that come morning, or well maybe early afternoon in this case, when you wake up, you’ll be met with that sinking feeling again. the one where you’ll feel the need to flea, to escape him and the domesticated side you so badly wanted to yourself.

but you’d settle for this for now, just like lando would settle for you believing this was the most he could offer. for now.

━━━

a/n: did u miss me and my shitty endings 🤭🤭🤭

soz for disappearing and soz if this is rusty asf it just came to me and it’s 3:30am but i needed to get it done 🤭🤭🤭

unedited like usual oops