#bucket method

[beingjellybeans]

What is the Bucket Method in Savings and How Can It Help You Achieve Your Financial Goals?

There is a wide variety of methods or techniques you can use to grow your wealth. It can be as simple as keeping loose change in a piggy bank or as complex as investing in stocks. However, if you’re looking for an efficient way to achieve your financial goals, consider using the bucket method. This approach to saving and managing money involves dividing funds into separate “buckets” based on…

[tokyoviee]

august bucket list :

☑ change theme

☑ spend 120 hours in the library

☑ study in the cafe

☐ complete the current syllabus

☑ pull an all nighter

[krissis-averted]

Mirage

[alexhatessupermarketcola]

Chaotic Alex Rider is my favourite.

One of my most favourite scenes is where he gets mad that his old friend started taking, stalks the drug dealer by bike then decides, yes, a logical option here is to play hook a duck claw machine with the drug production boat (people and all) using a crane to drop it off gently in the police station car park like you do.

(which of course ends up meaning instead being dropped from height through the conference centre next door's roof)

It's remarkable that Alex is even somewhat surprised at what happens next 😂

Truly top tier chaos.

[choco-court]

wowoooowowowoooooo! Eternal Sugar's colors are so prebby....... Also u should listen to Bloom for Me by Pearly Drops.

OG lineart down here ⬇️

[epicqtefail]

my drawing tablet finally broke and idk which alternate method of drawing i want to lock myself into for this comic: finger on the touchpad (slow process, will be an absolute mess but edit undo will get me through) or traditional pen on paper (fluid but i make a mistake i die)

[marionmorse]

MARIONMORSE, DROP ANOTHER HELMETPARTY SCENARIO AND MY LIFE IS YOUUURSS 🙏🙏🙏🙏

do u think... Do you think sometimes when the team has a movie night, when they watch those 60's action war movies like "Von Ryan's Express" and "Battle of the Bulge" or spaghetti westerns like "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" and "Death Rides on a Horse," Soldier pauses during or right after fight scenes or duels or whatever to obsessively overanalyze them. Like, he'll try and turn them into strategies to use on the job, takes, uhm, 'notes', (tactical doodles,) sets up nerdy models using a whiteboard map and improvised figurines, uses these examples when he does those psyche-up pre-battle speeches or during strategy meetings.

'Cause I bet he does, I bet he does that, and it completely kills the momentum of the movie to the point where the rest of the team gets disinterested and slowly leaves him behind to do their own thing.

I genuinely bet Engie wouldn't though, nah, I bet he's enough of a patient kind of gentle kind of man willing to stick through these pauses 'cause he's just that into the movie. And maybe he's just a teeny bit into Soldier's dissections of actiony chaos. Maybe gleans a bit of an understanding of Soldier's thinking that way. Admires the guy's passion about his 'research,' how thoughtfully he gathers details in an effort to help the team. Starts mixing in tapes for these sorts of movies more regularly to their movie night pool maybe subconsciously, maybe on purpose. The rest of the team doing their own movie night. losers.

[modeus-the-misanthrope]

*Taps mic to ensure it is turned on.*

The Beast/Den with a thick and dripping Hyena Gock. That is all.

*I leave the stage by hopping down from center stage and hiding in the orchestra pit.*

[elephantbitterhead]

It seems there's a new fashion in swallows' nests this year.

[bucket-of-amethyst]

your animatic is literally so perfect. The phone that has the sole purpose of calling skizz. the way skizz grabs impulse and smushes them together. the puppy impulse. The book of stories for impy. skizz pushing the little guys togehter. impulse's stupid fast clapping. Literally everything <3

WAAAAAAAAAAHHH THANK U SO MUCH!!! <333333333333 IM SO HAPPY TO KNOW U ENJOYED THE GAGS I AM MOST PROUD OF LDKGJLKFDJG

For real, 90% of the reason this all popped into my head was because i couldnt stop imagining pup-pulse giving skizz big puppy eyes dgjdf

FR THANK U THIS MEANS SO MUCH!! I havent animated in forever so seeing people like my silly little thang makes me very happy and who knows,, maybe i will get back into animation, its been too long

[ohmydais]

What do you guys use to put pictures over gifs for headers n stuff(ex. my last post)…..

preferably a website that I don’t need to pay or make an account for but I know that’s like the equivalent of me asking where to buy a unicorn. so

[theinfinitedivides]

oh and while i'm at it. she gets back from the party and finds a whole ass Hindustani classical vinyl sung by Bade Ghulam Ali Khan waiting for her bc she mentioned a few nights ago that she loves her homeland's music. this man literally said anything to make my wife happy and went out and got that shit like it was second nature to him that's insane

[littleapocalypsekitten]

The Saga of Mice.

For a while now, I'd been seeing mice in our kitchen -just a quick furry-scurry thing that would bolt under a cabinet every once in a while when I was entering the kitchen. A couple of weeks ago, I saw a mouse trying to venture out into the hallway and thought "This bugger is getting BOLD!" Tolerance only goes so far, especially upon the discovery of a multitude of newly-existing mouse turds atop the roll-out shelf we keep under the kitchen-island where my Kitchen Aid lives. (It is covered with one of those fabric covers, but still...). We are currently catless (an issue with having a small apartment and a grumpy landlord). I bought a couple of snap-traps, but haven't used them. This is because my honey set up a type of trap that he's used before in another home to catch mice: A large bucket (we have a big foodsafe bucket that we use to brine turkey in for Thanksgiving), birdseed with lots of sunflower seed and a place to set it up where we know they can get it. We have the thing stuck up against a stack of takeout soup-containers that we use for storage and kind of up under the kitchen-island, so there are places they can climb in and drop in upon smelling the presence of the seeds. It works. Oh, my God, it works! Typically, we get one at night and find it in the morning - or sometimes, one of us will hear scrabbling around if we wake up in the middle of the night. Right now, there are two of the little buggers in there that somehow decided to go food-hunting in a well-lit kitchen just after dinnertime - meaning that they weren't running around hunting for food when the big ape-kaiju were actively in the kitchen, but in the space of about an hour... Okay, I've got Pinky and the Brain now. They're scrabbling in there, trying to jump back out and snuffling around in the seeds. The whole idea is that "you can drop in, but you can't jump back out." The first one we caught *did* escape, though, because It repaied a kindness of mine by being a jerk. I decided to put a shallow dish of water in the bottom of the bucket because I didn't like the idea of a critter being without water if we were going to wait around to catch more. It managed to use the dish as just enough leverage for an escape-jump. No more water. Now, we just release them every morning out into the thicket at the edge of the neighbors' backyard (hoping they don't find their way into the apartments again). We think we may be providing snacks for the local cats and foxes. Depends upon if the mice can find holes to duck into, I guess. But, geez... So many little beady eyes looking up at me. Haha! You're stuck in a bucket!

[giverofempathy]

sad bc i just had to decide to not dye my viking dress w natural material because i don't have a big enough pot to dye it in 😭😭😭

[screampied]

MONEY HONEY! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs.

word count. 4.2k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.

an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing

“…nono, you don’t understand. i can’t go out there, i just…can’t—!” gojo mutters, and he’s pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojo’s personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire was…quite enthralling, to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.

you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.

“satoru, you do this before every show,” you sigh, glancing at him. you couldn’t lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojo’s hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. “you do realize you’re supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isn’t a good l—”

“i know…i know,” he pouts, and he’s so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star who’s such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. “these cough drops you’ve been givinʼ me haven’t done shit.”

“really...” you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.

gojo sulks and he’s just a few feet apart from you now. “mhm…really,” he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. “i did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..”

you stare up at the popstar, and he’s returning the gaze…as if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you don’t give him an answer and this time, he’s the one to roll his eyes.

“…well since you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. “hm, according to this accurate article, it says… to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a woman’s—”

you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. “just say you want to eat me out, satoru.”

“wha— where’d you get that impression?” he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looking around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. “….fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.”

you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. “maybe after your show, they're chanting for y—”

“they can wait,” he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. “i can’t.”

the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems serious—dramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you. 

“five minutes…five minutes, that isn't too long is it?” he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. “i won’t get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?”

“you’re insufferable.” you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. “okay, five minutes. if you say this helps with your—vocal whatever.”

not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour. 

you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojo’s warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.

“s-satoru,” you’d whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. “oh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.”

“you’ll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,” he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. “what time is it?”

you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, “um.. quarter past eight.”

“aw man,” he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. “that much time passed? can’t stand rushing…”

as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised, and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.

the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you. 

“s—satoru,” you’d croak out, and he’s casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, think ‘m gonna cum..”

“wait a little longer, yeah?” he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojo’s nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. “let me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckin’ day.”

you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. “and…and who’s fault was that?”

he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. “okay, you have a point,” and your thighs feel feverish—you’re so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.

the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. “mhm, this is better than anything else though.”

you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own. 

“sa..satoru,” you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerous—god, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.

he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, ‘satoru,’ ‘please-please,’ and ‘m gonna c-cum.’

there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you. 

for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tour…which non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course, though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of you—always from the nosy journalists and interviewers. 

each interview, it’d always be questions they’d ask about the precious little assistant that’s essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.

“are you and that girl exclusive yet?”

“how long have you two seen each other?”

“please. describe to us. what’s she like in b—”

they’d get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as ‘that’ girl.

his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like you’d treat anyone else.

“satoru..” you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. “your phone keeps beeping.”

“huuuuh?” he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojo’s thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his saliva running down your slit. “oh, can you hand it to me?”

he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.

he grumbles.

picking up the phone, typing in his twenty-one digit passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left by his manager, kento nanami. 

‘Greetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.’

‘ASAP. Autocorrect.’

‘Your fans think your dead.’

‘Don’t tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.’

‘When your sales start going low, don't blame me.’

and many more unread, “blah blah yeah yeah,” gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. “nothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.”

you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face him—you're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “aw, waiting for me?” he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. “you wanna cum don't you, baby?

“m-mhmm.” was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling. 

“use those words, c’mon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.”

the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojo’s warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. “tell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.”

“i—” you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. “i-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, ‘toru..”

“pretty girllll wants to cummmm,” he sings in a playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. “hm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fʼr me.”

once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.

“good girl, just let go…yeah,” he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy, he can't get enough of.

gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. “fuck, i can just suck on you all day,” he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. “i need more…fuck the fans, i need you.”

“idiot, don’t say that..” you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojo’s lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. “t-they’re waiting for you.”

“they can keep waiting,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. “damn, you don't know how hard i’ve been during rehearsal. i—i think about you, you know?”

you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, “you…you do?”

“well yeah girl,” he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. “you drive me crazy in the worst way.”

“the feeling’s mutual, popstar.” you utter, a glint in your eye.

“hmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?” he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside. 

a coyish grin goes against your lips. “sorry. are you gonna do anything about it?”

“…shut up..” he grumbles, and he does. 

pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.

you suck in shortened breath. “ooh,” he says as you moan in unison with the light thwack. “you get off on spanks, huh?” he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse. 

“n-no.” you spat. 

“liar,” he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. “fuckkk,” he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. “you’re so impatient, wait.”

“do you even know how to fuck?” you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway. 

gojo’s eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. “wha—?! of course i  do.”

“just asking.” you tease. 

“just asking,” he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, “yeah. shut the f-fuck up.”

a small grin stretches against your lips because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more. 

“you're s-so wet ‘n sloppy,” he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him were simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojo’s jagged breathing, “f-fuck, ‘s good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.”

gojo’s touch against your spine was purely gossamer. 

he was soft, gentle, delicate.

yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longing—just for him to just hurry.

gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy. 

“s-stop playing and just put it in.” you moaned, growing impatient by the mile. 

“heh, you know what they say,” he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or two…only to then go right back out. “patience is a virgin.”

“…it’s virtue.”

“that’s what i sai—”

“just fuck me.” you whined. 

gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.

you linger over the couch, the fabric of your pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips. 

you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.

some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojo’s base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you were so dizzy. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru.. ‘s good,” you whined, every few seconds he’d smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous. 

“damn girl…didn't expect you to s-start throwin’ yourself back again me,” he sibilates, and for a concise moment, his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. “you're such a needy girl. tryna…f-fuck me back..”

the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.

to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.

his dick reached every spot, so much so being precise—you felt the curve of his length analyze throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. “god, r-right there. please, ‘toru. y-your curve, ‘s reaching me deep.”

“you f-flatter me,” he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojo’s right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. “fuck, dunno how much i can take with you movin’ your ass against me like that…shit, shit.”

“…s-satoru,” you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. “fuck, f-fuck. ‘s deep.”

gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.

“think you’re gonna m-milk me dry,” he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and it’s so obscene. “shit, think ‘m in love,” and then you grow hot. it’s a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, “…i-in love with your pussy.”

you were gonna comment on something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. you’re being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time. 

splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojo’s ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, you’re making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.

he just couldn’t get enough. to think this was the first time he’s been this intimate with you—oh, how he could only imagine what it’d be like for a second time, or a third time, or a…

“s-satoru, your phone’s ringing..”

he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time it’s geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, he’s attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum.. can i—?”

“y-yes, jus’ do it, ‘toru,” you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentence—you knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush. 

“okay, okay,” he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy. 

you feel gojo’s pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. “fuck, f-fuck..” he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw. 

once gojo came, it's so much.

thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstar’s cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.

was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure. 

his breath hitches once he pulls out, watching his cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. “made me fuck such a mess into you,” he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch. 

“you ruined my panties,” you whined, turning over to face him—gojo leaned in for a kiss, and you returned the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your slick that remained all over his tongue. 

“baby, it's not like you need them,” he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. “besides, i was gonna ask to keep them.”

“why?” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself. 

timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. “y’know. for uh…good luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.”

“you're so—”

“shhh.” he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.

as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and he’s making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move. 

“oh f-fuck…fuck, forgot how sensitive-” he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimpering—softly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. “you-you make me feel so good, baby.”

gojo’s almost at a loss for words, he’s had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.

besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule. 

although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him, cowgirl, that’s right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.

not to anyone’s surprise, it's no one other than gojo’s best friend and bassist, suguru geto.

“you've got to be joking,” he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. “everyone’s been calling you, there's a search party, and—”

geto pauses, tilting his head. “…is that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?”

“suguru…hey man,” gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his tone—you jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “i’m… kinda busy here.”

“i don't give a fuck,” he grumbles. “by the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.”

gojo’s eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.

indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.

“eheh…hey mic check?” and he could hear himself echo through the earpiece. embarrassing.

despite you still being inside, you just sat there—geto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, “uh…i didn't know my mic was on. my bad.”

“you're so stupid...” you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you. 

the heels of geto turned before gojo brought a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. “sugu wait,”

“what.” he mutters, turning back around. 

“wanna join…? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt…r-right?”

“…….”

[dina-winchester]

Baby

Pairing: Dean x you | Established relationship

Summary: Dean’s taking care of his Baby, and you take care of yours.. 😏

Warnings: Sexual tension, smut, Rated R, taking care of Dean, oral receiving, overstimulation, no use of y/n. Proceed with caution

The sun was high and merciless, casting golden light across the bunker’s driveway. You stood just outside the garage, leaned against the doorframe with your arms crossed, pretending to sip your iced coffee—but you hadn’t taken a drink in at least five minutes.

Not when Dean was out there, shirtless, jeans slung low on his hips, bent over Baby with a sponge in one hand and a bucket at his feet. His movements were methodical, focused. The kind of care he usually reserved for a hunt, or for you.

Water clung to his skin, rivulets snaking down his chest and soaking the waistband of his jeans. A single drop slid from his temple, tracing his jaw before it disappeared into the scruff on his throat. And the way his arms flexed as he scrubbed the hood?

Yeah. You were sweating and it wasn’t from the heat.

You bit your lip, watching the muscles in his back shift, every line of him on full display under the afternoon sun. It was honestly rude.

You turned, sauntered back inside just long enough to grab one of the cold beers from the fridge, then stepped out again—this time with purpose.

Dean didn’t hear you right away, too busy rinsing off the soap with a low whistle under his breath. But when you crossed to his side and held out the beer, his eyes flicked over with that lazy, sun-warmed smirk.

“Well hey there, sweetheart. You tryin’ to steal my heart with a cold one?”

“Think you could use a break,” you said sweetly, handing it over. “You’re starting to glisten.”

He chuckled, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. “Glisten, huh?”

“Mmhmm.” Your eyes trailed down his body, not bothering to be subtle. “Or maybe sweat like a sinner in church.”

Dean gave a slow, smug look in your direction. “And what’s that make you, starin’ like that?”

“Thirsty,” you replied, licking your lips, voice low.

And then—without giving him a second to reply—you dropped to your knees right there, beside the Impala’s tire, resting your hands lightly on his thighs.

Dean froze. The bottle hovered mid-air.

“…Sweetheart?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, playful and wicked all at once. “Figured I’d help you cool down.”

He blinked, then glanced around the mostly-empty garage lot like he couldn’t believe his luck. “You’re serious?”

Your hands slid higher, fingers teasing at the button of his jeans. “I don’t joke when I’m this turned on.”

Dean let out a slow, wrecked breath—one that came from somewhere deep in his gut—and leaned back against the Impala with a crooked smile. “Remind me to wash Baby more often…”

Dean’s hand tightened around the neck of the beer bottle, knuckles flexing as he stared down at you like you were a mirage. The sun was beating down, his jeans clinging to his hips from the water, his skin slick and hot, and now—this.

You. On your knees. Looking up at him with that spark in your eyes that never failed to knock the wind out of him.

Dean’s breath caught when your nails lightly grazed over the damp denim between his legs. He let his head fall back with a low groan, the bottle dangling from his hand.

“Jesus…”

“Nope,” you teased, pressing a kiss to the sharp line of his hip, right where his jeans dipped low. “Just me.”

Dean hissed through his teeth, hips shifting ever so slightly toward your mouth. “You’re dangerous, y’know that?”

You glanced up at him again, eyes locked with his. “Then stop me.”

He didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not even if his life depended on it.

Instead, he exhaled hard and set the bottle on Baby’s roof with a thunk, both hands coming down to tangle in your hair as your kisses got lower, slower, maddeningly patient.

“God, sweetheart…” he rasped, voice all gravel and need. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You’ll die happy.”

You let your hands slide up, undoing the button on his jeans like you had all the time in the world, then tugging the zipper down, slow and deliberate. You pressed your mouth to the skin just above the waistband, soft, open-mouthed kisses that made his thighs tense under your touch.

And when you finally pulled him free, when your hand wrapped around his cock and you leaned in, Dean’s head thunked softly back against the car.

“Fuuuuck.”

The heat, the sun, the glint of sweat still on his chest—everything felt electric as you kissed his tip once, soft and slow. Not even taking him in yet, just tasting, teasing, letting him feel every ounce of restraint you still had.

He looked down at you, pupils blown wide, chest rising with each unsteady breath. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

You smiled, your breath hot against his skin. “That’s the plan.”

You didn’t give him a warning. Just wrapped your lips around him, slow and warm and steady, your tongue tracing the underside of his shaft like you already knew every inch by heart.

Dean choked out a low curse and immediately grabbed hold of the car’s roof with one hand, the other staying buried in your hair like he needed that anchor to keep from floating off the ground.

“Oh—shit, baby…”

His voice cracked somewhere between pleasure and disbelief, already breathless. The kind of sound that made you feel powerful, needed, like your name was echoing in every corner of his body.

You set a rhythm—slow, steady, intentional—like you wanted him to feel every pass of your tongue, every flick, every tight pull of your lips around him. Your hands held him gently but firmly at the base, not letting him thrust, not letting him take. This was yours.

“God, you feel so good…” he groaned, chest heaving, sweat trickling down his neck. “Sweetheart… I’m—fuck.”

You hummed around him, eyes flicking up just in time to catch the way his lashes fluttered, the way his mouth parted, and then—there it was. That soft, broken moan. The one he couldn’t control. The one he only gave you.

His hips jerked the tiniest bit, and you squeezed your lips around him gently, letting go with a quiet pop before licking slowly up the length of his cock—just to make him whimper.

“Y’alright there, Winchester?” you murmured, breath hot against him.

He let out a laugh that was half a gasp, voice wrecked. “You’re… evil.”

“Mmhmm,” you purred. “And you love it.”

Dean’s hand tightened in your hair, the muscles in his thighs twitching beneath your touch. “Too much,” he admitted. “Way too much.”

And then you took him again—this time deeper, slower, holding him at the back of your throat just long enough to make his knees buckle.

“Oh God, sweetheart—”

He was panting now, torn between gripping the car and your hair, his stomach tensing under the pressure, his voice unraveling in your name and little broken sounds you didn’t think he even realized he was making.

“Baby, baby, baby—fuck—I’m not gonna last, not like this—”

You didn’t ease up. If anything, you tightened your grip on him, your pace steady but still gentle, coaxing, loving. Letting him fall apart under your mouth.

And when he finally came—his hips giving one last, helpless buck, your name torn from his throat like a prayer—you didn’t stop.

Even as Dean’s hips stuttered and his grip loosened in your hair, even as he groaned your name like he thought he was done—you stayed right there, swallowing everything he had to give. Lips wrapped around him, tongue teasing the tip and underside of his cock, slow and deliberate.

Dean cursed, breath hitching hard. “Oh—Jesus, baby, wait—”

You pulled back just slightly, just enough to speak—your voice a sultry whisper against his flushed skin. “Mm-mm. Not done with you yet.”

His hand fumbled at the roof of the car like he needed something solid, something to keep him upright. “Holy fuck.”

You smiled, devilish and sweet, then dragged your tongue up the sensitive underside of his cock again, slow enough to make his knees tremble. His thighs were already tense, his stomach jumping with every flick of your tongue over the tip of his dick. And when you hollowed your cheeks and took him deep once more?

Dean gasped—a wrecked, desperate sound—and his knees gave just a little.

“Baby, please, I—I can’t—“

You hummed, vibrations shooting straight through him, and the hand in your hair tightened again—this time more like a lifeline than control.

He was a mess now. Breath ragged. Muscles trembling. The kind of overwhelmed that made his voice break when he tried to say your name and could barely get it out.

“I’m—fuck, sweetheart, it’s too much—too good—”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as his head fell back against Baby, lips parted, skin burning from head to toe. You kept your rhythm—soft but unyielding, dragging every single second of overstimulation out of him until his thighs quaked and his voice cracked into a broken moan.

“Baby, I’m gonna—God, I’m gonna cum again—”

You didn’t stop. You didn’t dare. You kept your hands steady, your pace just enough to push him straight over that edge a second time.

And when it hit—when his entire body shuddered and his knees finally gave out—you caught him. Hands sliding up to hold his hips, grounding him as he collapsed half-limp against Baby, gasping like he’d just been hit by lightning.

He whimpered, hand still tangled in your hair, body spent, wrecked, twitching with every aftershock.

You kissed the inside of his thigh as you finally pulled off of him, slow and gentle now. Soothing. Worshipful.

Dean could barely lift his head, eyes glassy, jaw slack, still trying to remember how to breathe.

“Y—you…” He swallowed thickly. “You’re evil. Holy shit, you’re…”

You climbed to your feet, brushing your lips across his cheek. “Still think I was just bringing you a beer?”

Dean let out a hoarse, breathless laugh, wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

“Next time I wash Baby, I’m doin’ it fully clothed. In a locked garage.”

You grinned. “Not a chance, Winchester.”