#fingers can rot in piss :)

[eldenringle]

Sometimes things bother me

[zonkedz]

He’s the best the girls on Jig-Jig street ’ve got. He’s all we’ve got. 

Just a day in the life of a joy toy getting by.

[sttoru]

“YOUR LAUGHTER IS THE SWEETEST SOUND.”

༄ sypnosis. you’re giving your boyfriend the silent treatment and he doesn’t have a clue why. thus he decides to find out in a rather special way.

༄ note. uhhh.. satoru’s been on my mind since forever and the fic ideas just keep coming so heres another one.

༄ tags. satoru x reader. female reader. just pure, tooth rotting fluff. satoru loves u sm. nicknames such as ‘sweets, babe(-y).’

“satoru. i’m counting to three.”

you stand in front of your boyfriend, hands on your hips and a frown on your face; satoru had taken your phone from you and is now holding it up out of reach.

“woah, ‘m so scared.” satoru mocks with a grin like the absolute menace he is, whistling a tune as he waits for you to do something about it.

you stood no chance since that man was above 6’3. that’s exactly what annoyed you most about the situation.

the reason he grabbed your phone from you was because you had given him the silent treatment ever since the early morning. for no apparent reason— or at least— one that satoru himself couldn’t figure out.

“satoru.” you sigh, clearly trying not to lose your temper with the guy.

“you have to tell me why you’re not talkin’ to me first.” the white-haired man shrugs nonchalantly, waving your phone back and forth in the air above.

you click your tongue and grab a pillow before throwing it at your boyfriend.

to your surprise, he lets the object hit him. it doesn’t faze him after all— he’s still steadily keeping your phone up with one hand.

satoru shakes his head and lets out a deep, over exaggerated sigh, “i would’ve given it back a looong time ago if you weren’t just so stubborn.”

that was a lie. he wouldn’t have.

the way satoru stood there with one hand in his pocket and the other hand holding up your phone way above his head, pissed you off so much more than you thought.

especially due to that little sly smirk that lingered on his face the entire time he taunted you.

“you’re extremely annoying.” you scoff.

after avoiding any close contact with your boyfriend for the entire day, you finally decide to get as close to him as possible. this was done with only one goal in mind: getting your phone back.

“got’cha.”

suddenly, you were lifted up and pinned down on the nearby couch— satoru hovering right on top of you while pinning both of your wrists above your head using one hand.

he had waited patiently for you to get close to him like that so he could pull such a cheap trick.

“now,” satoru starts, looking straight into your eyes as his warm breath slightly hits your face in the current state of close proximity, “tell me, baby.”

a second huff escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, “no can do.”

“aww— well, guess you left me no choice.” satoru sighs, his expression changing into a serious one.

he retreats from above you ever so slightly. you couldn’t see his eyes since his bangs covered them for the most part, though you could sense a certain shift in his aura.

“you have yourself to blame for this.”

his tone sounded like he wasn’t playing around either.

…

you were a second too late to react before satoru did. his hands moved at the speed of the light— landing right beneath your shirt. your eyes widened as you realised what he was doing;

satoru was going to torture the information out of you. with non-stop tickles.

“hey! s-stop!” you try to keep your expression stoic and devoid of emotion, but fail miserably at that task the moment you felt him tickling you.

“hmm? can’t hear ya.” satoru teases while his fingers kept moving quickly and repeatedly over the exposed skin under your shirt.

“you!” you try to warn the white-haired man seriously, though you burst into a fit of laughter instead.

satoru’s face lights up the moment he hears the sweet sound of your laughter. he’s grinning from ear to ear like he’s just won the best prize there was, “my baby’s so pretty when she’s smiling like this.”

neither his affectionate words nor his loving gaze had been noticed by you. the only thing you were capable of doing was laugh and try to get his hands off you.

“satoru! i swear—”

it’s like both of you were in your own worlds, focused on two entirely different things: you were trying so hard to stop your boyfriend from tickling you while he was lost in your beauty beneath him.

“tha’s not my name,” satoru pouted, increasing the intensity of his tickles.

he didn’t like it whenever you’d purposely avoid referring to him with affectionate nicknames.

you did that whenever you were upset with him and that’s why he always tries his best to not get on your nerves (keyword: tries. satoru somehow always manages to annoy you, though sometimes it’s on purpose since your reactions were adorable).

“i can’t anymore!” there’s tears welling up in your eyes due to you laughing and giggling non-stop. your stomach was also reaching its limit.

“i’ll stop if you say it,” satoru chuckles along, his blue eyes staring at you over the rims of his pitch-black lenses, “say ‘pleaaase, baby.’”

his fingers continued to ruthlessly tickle your sides while you tried to escape his grasp.

“c’mon, i know you can do it.” your boyfriend adds with a small smirk on his face.

“no way!” you shake your head while giggling uncontrollably. even in this state, you were somehow holding onto that avoidant attitude of yours.

“that’s no good, sweets.”

satoru decided to use his trump card: tickling your armpits. he’ll have you begging him to stop in no time.

as expected, you squeal and squirm around underneath the snowy-haired male, your breathing unstable due to the amount of laughter leaving your lips.

“w-wait—,” you manage to get out between giggles, “please, baby, i give up!”

satoru was content with your answer and rested his hands on either side of your body.

“wasn’t that hard, ey?”

you could see that victorious expression on his face which beamed of confidence. it made you roll your eyes.

“shut up.” you breathe out deeply as you try to regain your composure.

satoru’s thumb gently brushed your tears of joy away while he looked down at you fondly. you looked extremely precious like that; teary eyed, hair messy and a slight pout on your lips.

he doesn’t want this moment to end.

and thus he starts to act dumb.

“hmm.. what did i say again just now?” satoru scratches his head with his index finger like he was thinking deeply about something.

“nu-uh. don’t you dare.” you knew that whenever satoru feigned innocence in situations like these, chaos was going to unfold a moment later.

“that i’d stop if you said ple— eh, whatever. i don’t remember.”

satoru shrugs, that fake innocent expression turning into a mischievous one in under a split second.

before you could escape, satoru started to tickle you again. you really should’ve expected him to pull another cheap trick like that; it’s the gojo satoru after all.

“you just wait, satoru, i swear i’ll kick your ass!”

“i’d like to see you try, babe.”

your laughter fills satoru’s ears once more and it’s then that he realises for the umpteenth time how grateful he is.

he’s indebted to the heavens for granting him the chance to live at the same time as you.

at this point, satoru wasn’t even concentrated on getting information out of you. seeing you all giggly and happy like this was enough for him.

he didn’t want to pressure you too much into telling him your reason for the silent treatment earlier.

he’ll find out one way or another. just like he usually does.

[q1ngqve]

CW; double penetration, threesome, pet names, degradation, praise, literally brain rot & not proofread because i wrote this on a whim

wrio and gallagher tag team because i cannot stop watching & thinking about that tiktok "૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎ა !!!!! they are so so mean! the meanest :( sandwiches you between them as they run their hands all over you ahhhhh >ᴗ< be a good girl and let them play with you or else you’ll get handcuffed with your hands behind your back!

but where’s the fun in being a “good girl” right? you’d piss them off by turning your head away each time they tried to kiss you, resulting in gallagher gripping at your cheeks with an angry smile, “stay still—” ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! and you’d reply “or what?” with a cheeky grin! and that was it! usually they’d have infinite amounts of patience when it comes to you, but not today ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

you could feel them poking you from the front and back, the flimsy skirt you’re wearing bunching up everytime wrio presses closer to you, making you squirm and buck back against his bulge (///▽///) he’d grab at your wrists roughly before securing them behind your back with his handcuffs!

meanwhile, gallagher wraps his hand around your throat, tugging your head forward so that your lips are inches away from his and you can feel his breath on your puffy lips ᡣ𐭩 “or we’ll have you stuffed with a dildo while we leave for work.” teehee — says lan

they’d manhandle you towards the bed and have you kneeling between them and straddling wrio with your face buried in his neck while gallagher gets behind you 🐾 the two work so well together it’s insane! wrio pulls you in by your nape to seal your lips together, pushing his tongue inside your mouth, teasing at your tongue while his hands rubs at your waist! all the while gallagher slides his fingers between your folds, sending snide remarks about how wet you are right to your ear, nibbling at your earlobes in the process

he has you cumming on his fingers with just a few pumps and rub of your clit! and wrio would tease you, says you’re “so sensitive,” and asks “how’re you going to take both of us if you’re already whimpering from just his fingers, hmm?”

wrio eases into you first! his fingers playing and tugging at your nipples while he kisses down your neck, telling you to relax for him!!!!! grunts and bites at your shoulder when he bottoms into you (꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) distracts you by kissing you again as gallagher slides into your ass!

both lets out the sexiest sounds known to mankind when they feel you squeeze around them, your juices coating and leaking out onto their thighs! moves at the same time, and your head starts going dizzy, it just feels too good! and and they’d tease you again, “so full of dick you can’t even speak coherently anymore?” you can’t even fight back, your whole body soft and trembling against them

you’d whimper their name softly when your head lifts when gallagher pulls at your roots, giving them easy access to kiss at your shoulders and neck ౨ৎ so so many praises! tells you “you’re taking us so well, pretty girl.” let’s not forget the degratory dirty talk though! “look at you sucking us in like that, you like having us fucking deep inside you, yeah? oh, we know you do, sweetheart.”

guides you through your high! knows you’re so sensitive from them practically impaling and splitting you in half ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა makes you relax into their holds as wrio plays with your clit and gallagher massaging your tits!

“that’s it, baby, just relax and cum for us. c’mon, you’ve got this.”

cums inside you after you orgasm and clamp down on them like a vice! you’re too blanked out to even notice them pulling out and pushing their cum back into you! ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ cleans you up afterwards and you curl up between them, satisfied and ready to pass out <3

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.1)

W/C: 3.5k #full is NSFW, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, mentions of abuse, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna has FEELINGS but is BAD AT FEELINGS, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, soz if anything is clunky asdkjf; i can only reread the same fic so many times for editing sadge

A/N: Decided to separate this into parts since I'm dying to post some of it lol I've held it in a chokehold in the shadows of my WIPs for too long, some of it has to come out before I explode o(--( there is more to come!

tag: @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9

The scripture was incomplete, worn away by age.

…herein lays the God...imprisoned...by...Disgraced One…

Yet the society felt this, the coffin uncovered decades ago, could be an invaluable asset. The vessel was decrepit and ancient, yet still stood strong against the test of time and the wear of nature. Seal papers, no doubt left by a monk of sorts, covered the entirety of its surface, hiding away rotting wood and rusted bands of metal from modern sorcerer's curious eyes.

Few knew why the higher ups kept the vessel under lock and key. Fewer knew why they kept it at all; however, those few understood the importance of such a relic. They'd been the ones to seek it out, to steal it away before malicious forces took it for themselves, warping the supposed deity inside for their own, malevolent purpose, whatever that may be.

And with Ryoumen Sukuna's fingers being found one by one, they could not allow anyone to possess humanity's failsafe: you. A great being imprisoned by the devil.

“Anything?” Gojo trilled, patting Yuuji’s shoulders frantically as he stood behind him and beheld the wooden tub covered in sigils. 

“Uh…” Yuuji tried to focus on Sukuna’s presence inside of him. He didn’t seem intrigued or frightened, nor did he seem too bothered with the idea of them trying to smite him down with a sealed god–he was, however, annoyed that Yuuji continued to poke and prod at him. 

Piss off, runt. 

“Yep. Nope. Sukuna doesn't care,” Yuuji sighed. “He's getting all pissy now that I'm bothering him, though.” 

Gojo laughed and patted Yuuji's shoulders a few more times before all but twirling towards the bound box. “Well, that's a pretty good sign that he's not the one that did this, then! In that case,” he started, walking up to the seal papers keeping everything locked down, “let's pop ‘er open.” 

Before Yuuji could even wonder if that was a good idea, the white-haired witch used an overzealous amount of cursed energy and disintegrated every scrap of seal paper. 

Yuuji braced for impact. Surely something terrible like a bankai or a spirit bomb would send them flying once the coffin came undone. Surely they'd pay for this, for unleashing whatever godly spirit laid locked up for far too long, only to release it back into the modern age and–

“Huh. Weird.”

Yuuji cracked open an eye and saw the dull shine of tattered onyx fur, and his control slipped with a blitz of vertigo. 

Markings flared across his skin as he stormed toward the coffin, heart howling with thoughts and memories crashing through a shared mind; a face he didn't know but knew so well bloomed at the forefront of it all, eyes framed in pointed scarlet, skin bathed in ancient, dappled sunlight.

They reached the edge of the coffin and gripped the edges, splintering the wood as they took in the sight; crimson and curse decay pooled around a figure, curled up and half-submerged. Several black, tattered tails spilled free from the tub, no longer crushed from the force of the lid sealing them inside, but they were bent awkwardly and matted with whatever tincture lay at the bottom.

Then there was the so-called god in the middle of it all–you. Still. Quiet. Curled up in a haori far too big for you. Eyes closed. Almost peaceful.

Confusion tore at Sukuna while nausea ripped through Yuuji; he couldn't bear to look at such a morose scene.

So, Sukuna pushed him aside.

[Heian Era]

You were never supposed to be anything more than a trinket. 

You were a gift from some family trying to show off for Sukuna, so much so that they offered him a delicacy, something he surely didn't have yet–a yokai. A kitsune, to be more exact. One with peculiar black tails. 

Sukuna found it interesting, and similarly desperate, to be brought such a creature as tribute. Certainly, it was meant to be seen as a high honour, yet somehow it felt…off. Why would humans give up something so powerful? 

Unexpectedly, it'd be you who told him. 

They submit me for the sake of convenience and mockery, your withering voice whispered where no one else could hear. You sounded weak. Tired. Maybe afraid, yet brave enough to reach towards the king and unveil the intentions of the men who brought you before him. 

Sukuna's eyes flicked to you, his feigned interest in what the sorcerers said falling straight into dismissal. You were much more intriguing. 

“Oh?” Sukuna asked, a smile creeping onto his face. The speakers ceased their jabbering and stared at your back with fierce intensity. Sukuna grinned wider. Oh, how he loved the way fear twisted mortal faces. 

You didn't shift or crumple into yourself under the eyes of so many, however. You pushed on with what little energy and life you had, so intent on dragging that clan through the mud. 

What I say is true, you assured simply. I expect to die today–

“Speak so everyone hears you, fox,” Sukuna commanded.

“--so I–I–” you coughed and cleared your throat, trying to rid your voice of the scratchy, weakness it struggled through. “I wish to not die with regrets.

"They have rendered me ill and unable to produce children, they see the black of my tails and regard me as an ill omen; yet they bring me to you, daring to spin sweet tales about the value of such an offering. But they lie,” You hissed. Your eyes glinted with molten malice, and Sukuna fell captivated.

“They throw me to you as they would diseased meat to dogs.” 

The courtyard fell silent, and Sukuna basked in it. You really were such a little troublemaker. A quietly chaotic force of nature. 

The king stood, rolling his shoulders as he did, and his pride flared as you dropped to your knees before him in respect. He walked to you and patted your head as one might a child's before appraising the sorcerers stood before him. 

“What a disappointment,” Sukuna sighed, raising another hand. The couple took up position, pooling their cursed energy in hopes of fending off the monster standing before them. The effort was quite cute. “Here I thought your clan might actually earn my mercy.” His hand dropped as the two lunged. Then, the two clansmen fell, too, both in neat, vertical halves. Quite overkill, yes, but he had a point to make. 

Where he expected a reaction from you, he got nothing. Only panting and poorly-stifled coughs came from you, racking through the entirety of your skin and bones frame. Sukuna could see it up close now, the way your body trembled from fatigue, the sickly greying of your skin, the scent of disease clinging to you. 

That wouldn't do. Sukuna liked his things to be in good shape. 

“Uraume,” Sukuna droned as he stared down at you, “fix this.”

It took some time, but you managed to recover. It was an unnerving experience, with the way Uraume tended to you with sincerity. Perhaps it was genuinity born from their devotion to Ryoumen Sukuna, but you greedily soaked it in, filling your stomach with the care they offered you. 

Sukuna didn't bother much with you, not that you really minded; you were much more content to be fed and forgotten than hunted down by the creature that supposedly took ownership of you without enforcing it. If he didn't cause harm or good, if he simply existed somewhere else and forgot you breathed the same air as him, you'd still be at peace. 

But he was more intrigued than you gave him credit for. 

“Ho? So this is where you scamper off to,” Sukuna hummed, leaning over you as you dozed in the nice little spot you'd made for yourself in the garden, right under the crimson cover of a maple tree. You jumped the slightest bit, your daydreams and sunbathing interrupted by the brute’s silhouette eclipsing the sun, but you settled again quickly. The beast of a man wasn't a cause for panic in your little world, after all. 

“Does it displease you?” You inquired, fixing your hair and straightening out your robes. 

Sukuna held onto an overhead branch of the tree as he looked down at you. “Pets are supposed to play in the yard, aren't they?” He smirked as you pursed your lips and flicked your tail before calming it with hasty pets. “What, you don't like being my pet?” 

“I would not refer to myself as a pet,” you countered as the man sat down with you and leaned against the tree. The king's presence calmed you. With him, you knew you were invincible. 

“Pft. Then pray tell what your damn role is around here.” One set of arms folded behind his head while the other set crossed over his chest. “Pets are freeloaders. Pretty sure that's exactly what you are.”

You huffed. “Freeloader. Tch. How rude.” 

“Lookit that. You're copping an attitude now that you're fat and fed. Used to be so much more polite.” 

“Fat and–I am not fat.” You headbutted his side lightly, something that would make more sense had you been in your fox form. You grinding your forehead against him suggested this was more of a human move, however. “I am perfectly normal now. I was brittle and nonexistent prior to now. This is a grand improvement.”

Sukuna scoffed a laugh and looked down at your head pressed up against his side. “Thanks to me,” he boasted. 

“Yes,” you agreed. You held onto his haori and looked up at him, placid and intense. “It is thanks to you. I would not be here if not for your mercy and intervention.” 

Sukuna raised a brow as he regarded you. “Hm. And what will you do to repay me?” 

“My very presence grants you luck, good fortune and fertility.” You tilted your head. “I already repay you by being here.”

Tch. But the gardens and surrounding lands did look more lush and lively since your arrival, he couldn't deny that fact. But he was a king; he could always ask for more and expect to get it. 

“What more?” He prodded.

Your tail flicked as you thought. “What would you ask of me?” 

“Something you haven't given another,” Sukuna replied. Ugh, your flowery, poetry-y, bullshit speak was rubbing off on him. 

You stared at him, gemstone eyes glinting with earthen hues and shards of gold in the yawning afternoon sun. The leaves bristled just perfectly, letting in dapples of citrus sunlight as if trying to make this moment something special, as if to burn your ethereal presence into history for all eternity. All this, just while you thought of what to give him. Perhaps a riddle is what you wanted. Perhaps purple prose suited your fancy. Perhaps it was something else. 

You sat up, carefully raising yourself onto your knees before leaning up towards the hulking king. He turned his face to you in interest, feeling a sort of natural energy begin to pool around the both of you, reaching from the far depths of the earth and the wide stretch of the sky to converge on your existence as you framed his face with gentle hands, and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It lasted only a second. But a second was long enough to catch the scent of petrichor and petals on your skin, to indulge in the heat of wildfires raging in your soul, to feel the blasphemy of you against him; then, you parted. 

“For now,” you murmured, and Sukuna swore he saw your single tail fan out into nine, “I give you my divine favor, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

You wondered if your favor was enough. He'd been gone some time, off to accept a duel from the snotty shitheads Sukuna had received you from. Apparently, having two of the eldest boys murdered rubbed them the wrong way. Sukuna was glad for it, you knew–the man lived and breathed for a fight. 

Of course, you stayed put. Uraume assured you'd be fine on your own, and Sukuna reminded his staff they'd all be eaten alive by the king himself if anything uncouth were to take place in his absence. It was more so that Sukuna didn't like the idea of idiots touching his stuff than it was the notion you were important to him, from your understanding. 

Regardless, the time alone left you restless. That king made you invincible. Without him, you were nothing more than the scared kit locked away in darkness, never to emerge lest your stubbornness trick them. But things were different here. Everyday was filled with unknowns and uncertainties when the two you'd forged fragile bonds with fell absent. 

So, you thought of how to repay Sukuna. Your divine favor would only do so much, after all–you didn't think a man like that really needed the extra luck, but he seemed more than intrigued by the manner of delivering the blessing; you remembered how he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, shielding you from the inferno burning out of control. He grumbled something low in his chest, just loud enough that you heard: 

You better be here when I get back.

“Ah–” The thrill those catastrophic words gave you nearly led to stabbing yourself with the needle. You tutted and regained focus, continuing to carefully embroider the sleeves of one of Sukuna's many plain black haori.

You learned how to sew and embroider from watching an elder from that clan work her magic on old, tattered clothes. She never spoke to you nor regarded you, but she never turned you away the rare times you watched her fix garments; you thought it was beautiful–the art of turning something mundane into something meaningful.

Though you wondered if Ryoumen Sukuna, the most powerful sorcerer, the most feared man alive, had a desire for anything useless and meaningful. 

The answer came quickly. You'd found yourself void of confidence when the monarch returned to his palace after (obviously) winning whatever duel he'd agreed to; you weren't sure if you were to congratulate him, celebrate him or something more. On top of that, he'd eventually find that haori you'd slaved over for days, and you weren't sure you could take the heartbreak of dismissal. 

However, those fears were quashed when, from a new little secret garden hovel, you spied the man donning the very haori you slaved over; it wasn't a flashy piece, you didn't want to subtract from the marvel that was the king of curses, so you opted for using black, shimmery thread to weave intricate twisting trees and blackened blooms along the sleeve. Only if the design caught the light would one be able to notice it. 

But that was enough for you. Knowing he accepted such a meaningless gift was reassuring of your place in his world. 

So, you finally let Uraume convince you to stay in the room they'd prepared for you. 

“No need to be nervous,” you hummed, that undying urge inside you to take care of something helping you soothe the young woman's nerves. You fixed her hair, your deft fingers carefully slipping strands into place before sliding a decorative pin in to hold it all together. You took a step back to appraise her, Sukuna's latest concubine. 

“I–thank you.” Sachiko blushed fiercely and bowed the slightest bit, not risking a deep bow for the fear of her hair falling loose. “I can see why all the girls love you.” 

You laughed, low and warm. “Well, it's hard not to love someone who takes care of you, no?” Gently, you tilted her chin up and leaned in, carefully examining the red lacquer staining her lips. The colour matched her kimono and the gems in that exquisite hairpin keeping dark locks at bay. “But I'm glad. I know it's difficult to find respite in these times.” 

Sachiko held her breath as she looked over the natural paint of crimson adorning your eyes. “I-I, um–yes, I do agree.” 

You hummed and carefully fixed the smallest smudge on the corner of her mouth. “Mh. So I hope you do your best to please him.” 

“I will!” Sachiko promised. “But–I wish to–may I give you something?” 

“Of course.” 

She gathered her kimono up in her hands and leaned up toward you. You leaned down, expecting a secret or hushed words, but perfect red lips pressed against your skin instead. And you were dumbfounded; you'd never been kissed before. You'd never had a lady show that interest in you. 

Sachiko got down from her tiptoes and hid her mouth with her sleeve. “Just for good luck!” She squeaked before bowing and hastily running through the doors where Sukuna would no doubt be waiting for his woman for the evening’s events. 

You looked at the doors sliding closed and caught a glimpse of Sukuna stood before the young woman, his frame swallowing hers as you looked on. And you caught a glimpse of his eyes, his stare of shock and utter vexation–clearly, he'd seen the short woman give you a kiss for good luck. 

You turned away, choosing to abandon the girl to her demise as your fingers ghosted against your lips in wonder. 

He showed up in your chambers later that night. You were still awake, quietly embroidering another haori; this time, it was for Uraume. They insisted they didn't want to burden you, but they crumbled under your more insistent insistence, and accepted the offer on the condition it looked subtle and muted. 

Sukuna padded toward you, hardly bothering to announce himself or ask to join you (ugh, how annoying) before plopping himself onto the futon beside you, sighing as he laid down. 

“I see you finished early,” you commented, jumping the littlest bit when large hands caught your flickering tails. He didn't hurt you, no; he was simply an overgrown toddler with a penchant for examining whatever wiggled before him. 

“That woman kissed you,” Sukuna answered, unhelpful. “Ruined it.” 

“Ah. Well. I didn't expect it either.” You cleared your throat, feeling an unexpected bubble of embarrassment rise in your chest. “I have…I've never been given a kiss before. Not from what I can recall, at the very least.” 

“The hell are you talking about?” Sukuna grouched. “You planted one on me in the gardens.” 

“Giving is not receiving,” you corrected, flicking your tail so as to hit his face. “I've never given a kiss on another's lips, regardless. Though I find myself wondering why I–” 

You yowled when he yanked your tail like he meant to rip the thing off, and you whirled on him, eyes drawn into slits and chunky fangs bared as you dug your nails into his wrist in an effort to make him let go.

Yet the king looked unfazed. He sat up and  tugged you closer by your tail, yank after yank, ripping an impressive collection of vexed noises from you until his broad hand caught you by the throat. You clawed at his wrist and forearm, scrambling to find purchase, idly wondering if he'd finally had enough of you and sought to put you down after dirtying one of his concubines–

But he kissed you instead. His lips were warm and dry, not quite soft yet not unwelcoming. Sukuna knew what he was doing, too; his tongue licked at your bottom lip before pushing inside to finally taste you and taint you from within just a little bit. 

Your grip on him laxed the slightest bit, and you even eased into his hold as he, too, refused to harm you further. If you weren't aware of his malevolent spirit, you might've thought him gentle in that long, simple moment–a special brand of “gentle” that was wholly Sukuna's. Kind, but jagged around the edges. 

He started pulling back, though, and you followed after his touch like a bewitched maiden chasing after the lips of a lover. You nipped at the air like that'd do something for you, but soon settled on leaning into the hand holding you still, even if your throat scratched and ached because of it. 

You found Sukuna's calm stare watching you when you opened your eyes a crack. For once, you thought he looked content; the cruel, mocking lines of his face had smoothed and relaxed, and that annoying, cocky smirk he'd been born sporting had been replaced with a placid, normal lilt. Even the inferno blazing in crimson depths eased into pools of yawning embers–warm and spirited, yet contained. 

The sight relaxed you despite the confusion it brought to your rationale. 

“That,” Sukuna said, so odd and quiet, but powerful and judicial. “Is your first.” His thumb stroked against the side of your neck, pausing to feel the pitter patter of your heart thrumming under his mercy. “It'd serve you to remember that.” 

You nodded shallowly. “Of course.” 

Pleased, he let go of your quite breakable neck and moved like he was about to get up. You grabbed at his hand and pressed his palm to the side of your face like he was cupping your cheek. Your insistence on touching gave the beast pause, but he settled again, content to let you keep him hostage for as long as you wanted.

And you indulged in the simple favour. You nuzzled into his palm with a very fox-like chitter as a bassy, quiet trill of a purr lazily rolled through your chest, eventually reaching Sukuna himself. It somehow had him feeling content. Relaxed. Like he was basking in the warmth of the sun. 

“I request another,” you chirped, and Sukuna quirked a brow. 

“Another?” 

“Kiss.” 

Sukuna twitched a smirk. “It'll cost ya.” 

“Oh?” 

“Give me another blessing.”

And you agreed.

[f1smutwriter]

|𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 (𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔)

|𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: he needs to left off some steam. So what better way then eating you out til you cry

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT! Oral (fem rec), teasing reader, dirty talk, light nipple play, overstimulation, praising with a mix of degrading, hair pulling, squirting, tooth rotting fluff

Notes: this is my first ever smut so if it sucks, I’m sorry but can you blame me I’m not a professional like these writers on here. I’ll put my wattpad at the end feeling a bit adventurous. Anyways hope you enjoy!

——————————————————————————————————————————————————

Charles comes in pissed off throwing his helmet since he got second place again. I just sit there feeling bad for him knowing he deserved to win the race, but got a messed up strategy once again.

“Baby it’s okay you did your best” I told him while running my fingers through his hair to calm him down. He was always down after a bad race, sometimes he ignores me, or fucks me to let off some steam.

“Strip. Now” He demanded in his stern voice, not even looking at me in the eyes. I knew best to follow his instructions when he’s pissed, so I do what he tells me to leaving me in my red bra and panties the set that drive him crazy.

He just stares at me with lust biting his lip while his eyes travel up and down my body. He comes up to me holding my waist, pulling my panties back and letting the elastic snap on my skin making me gasp.

“Didn’t I tell you to strip” He growled in my ear making sure I knew he was pissed. I gulped knowing not to mess with him after a bad race because he won’t go easy on me. I nodded softly looking at him with lust mixed with a scared expression on my face.

“Then why the fuck are these two on huh. Are you really that stupid that you can’t follow simple instructions” he whispered sternly to me squeezing my hips tightly. I gasp slightly feeling his grip on my body grow tighter. I slowly go behind and unclip my bra in front of him his eyes staring at my every move.

Once I unclipped my bra he breaks eye contact from me and stares at my tits, biting his lips looking at me with so much lust in his eyes. I slowly pull my red panties down my legs showing him that theirs a wet spot on them. He just stares at me with a mischievous smile on his face.

“That’s my good girl. See I knew you weren’t a brainless slut” he said to me before kissing me roughly. His kisses are normally soft but when he’s mad he’s very rough and I love it. I whimpered feeling his rough lips against mine kissing me passionately. Licking my bottom lip before sticking his tongue into my mouth, making me moan against his lips.

He starts to fight my tongue for dominance. I lose easily not being able to keep up with him and his assault on my tongue. He finally pulls away letting me catch my breath before it was taken away again from him kissing my neck. I whimpered softly feeling his open mouthed kisses everywhere on my neck.

He slowly kisses down my neck to my collarbone sucking red markings that are later gonna be bruises. He licks along my collarbone making me shutter in pleasure of his tongue on my skin. He kisses down my collarbone to my tits, kissing down the valley between them. He rubs my sensitive nipples with his thumbs making them harden under his touch.

“Does that feel good princess” he mumbled against my right tit wrapping his lips around my nipple making me moan from the vibrations. “I know it does your always so sensitive to me” he finished while he sucks my nipple harshly while pinching the other one between his middle and pointer finger.

“Please cha need you in me so bad” I begged him desperately wanting his touch, as he moves from my right nipple to my left giving it the same treatment he did to my right one. He slowly kisses down my stomach, stopping at the top of my glistening cunt.

He spreads open my legs getting a better view of my pussy. He puckers his lips and blows cold air on my hot core before leaving a tiny kiss on my throbbing clit.

“Are you gonna be a good slut and let me taste this pretty little cunt of yours” he whispered to me looking up from between my legs making me whimper. “Yes I’ll be a good slut for you” I replied to him in an instant wanting him to eat my cunt up like it was his last meal.

“That’s my girl” he whispered before licking a long strap from my hole to my clit making my hips buck up against his mouth. I moaned loudly missing the feeling of his tongue on me.

I cover my mouth with my hands not wanting anyone to hear what we were doing. He attacks my clit with his tongue making sure to flick it the right way. He looked up at him with his bright green eyes darkening to deep green. He nipped at my clit making my hips twitch slightly.

He pulls away from my already simulated clit rubbing tight circles on it making my eyes roll back into my head. “Don’t hide those pretty noises baby. I want everyone to know that I’m making you feel good, show everyone how much of a slut you are got my tongue” he growled before going back and sucking my clit harshly making me break my silence with a loud moan. I reach down to tug his hair, pushing his face deep into my cunt.

“F-feels so, fuck, feels so good Charles” I stuttered under him feeling his tongue go deep into my hole as his thumb circles my clit in figure eights. I start grinding my needy cunt on his tongue making him more pissed. “Don’t be a greedy whore, and take what I give you” he said before pushing my hips down onto the couching making me gasp loudly from his rough touch.

He goes back to eating me out like a starved man, licking, sucking, kissing my clit til I cry out for him. I feel the familiar knot in my stomach getting closer and closer to cumming. "Cha so close please let me cum" I begged him feeling so close that its starting to hurt.

"Come on baby, cum for me" he mumbled against my clit making the feeling so much better. Him groaning against my cunt makes me fall over the edge and cum all over his face. I start moving louder and louder riding out my high by grinding on his face.

Once I came down from my high he still continues his assault on my sensitive clit. Making me try to wiggle away from him too sensitive to cum again. "Stay still" He said against my clit making me cry from pleasure. Tears stream down my face from the overstimulation being too much.

He didn't stop at one, he didn't stop at two, he stopped at 5. Saying that all he needed was one more. "Cha no more please no more too much" I begged him my legs shaking violently around his head. "One more princess, I know you have one more in you. Can you cum one more time for me love" He asked against my sensitive clit making me yelp in sensitive.

All I could do was nod yes tears falling down from my face, and my legs shake around his head as my thighs squeezes his face. "Atta girl, you last you good. Can eat this pussy all day if you let me" He growled against me making my orgasm hit me like white hot pleasure. Squirting all over his face making my who body spasm, crying out and whimpering for him to stop.

"Sshh, its okay baby did so good for me. My good girl" He whispered to me running his fingers through my hair to make sure I calmed down. He gets up and brings a wet rag to clean me up. I whimpered softly feeling super sensitive from how many times I've came.

"My good girl made me better, you did so good listening to me princes" He whispered softly in my ear rubbing up and down my side making me relax. "I love you so much baby you have no idea" He said softly scratching my head making me relax.

"I love you more" I mumbled back still fucked out of my mind, cuddling up to his side slowly falling asleep hearing his heartbeat. He kissed my head softly whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

"Good nigh baby" He whispered letting me sleep against his chest as he rubs my back. I slowly fall asleep his heartbeat sounding so peaceful to me.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Authors Notes: I really hoped you guys liked this. I don't think its very good but its alright for my first ever smut. Please leave me any suggestions. Request are always open

wattpad: @I_love_the_weeknd

[lnfours]

ik i should probably send this thru the lando brain rot but i am not exposing my filthy side lol so please excuse that. BUT lando with a figure skater who competes in singles but has to pairs for a gala show. he casually picks her from the practice and sees the pairs program which is stemy AF. i am thinking of smth like very hands on each other and her partner throwing her in air and catching her; his hands all over her waist while the song could be smth like into you by ariana grande.

a jealous lando fucking her going like "bet he can't do this" or smth like "oh he will never be able to see you like this" or "come on baby i've seen you split your body basically half on ice you can stretch more than that"

lol i am sorry i yapped alot feel free to ignore if you're not into it sm.

THIS IS LOWKEY GIVING ICEBREAKER AND IM SO HERE FOR IT FUCK!!!!!! smut (18+ pls!)

cleaning out my inbox

he was waiting for you when your routine ended, his arms crossed as he watched you and your partner. he knew you had done a more sensual routine this time around, but the sight of some dude having his hands all over you made him clench his jaw.

he knew it was part of your sport, that it was something silly to be mad at, but he couldn't help it. he didn't like sharing, especially when it came to you.

not wanting to make him wait any longer, you quickly grabbed your things and made your way over to him, stepping off the ice and smiling at him.

"hey, sorry, i forgot what time it was," you sighed, sitting down on the benches, "have you been waiting long?"

he shook his head, "'s alright."

you raised an eyebrow at him as you unlaced your skates, "you okay?"

he was looking in the direction towards your partner, "hmm? yeah, baby, 'm good."

"you sure?" you asked, stuffing the skates into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, "you look pissed off."

the conversation was interrupted when your partner called your name, stepping off the ice and smiling at the both of you, "good job today, you did great!"

"thanks," you smiled, "so did you! i'll see you friday, right?"

"yeah, i'll see you friday," he smiled, "have a good night guys."

you laced your arm with your boyfriends, pulling him away from sending the poor boy daggers, "good night!"

lando followed your lead, walking with you back to the parking lot and to the car. you threw your stuff in the backseat before climbing into the passenger seat, noticing the way his jaw was still tight.

he started the car as you spoke softly, your hand resting on his arm, "are you sure you're okay?"

he nodded before looking over at you, "yeah, why wouldn't i be?"

"like i said, you look pissed," you said, "did you wanna talk about it?"

"'m fine, babe, really."

his tone made you think otherwise, and then it clicked. he was jealous.

you smirked over at him, laughing softly, "oh my god, you're jealous!"

"no, 'm not."

"you are, look at you!" you chuckled, "c'mon, babe, there's nothing to be jealous about."

"i just don't like the fact that he had his hands all over you," he said, "that's all."

you grabbed his hand from the center console, placing it on your cheek, "doesn't matter, the only man who's hands i want all over me is sitting right here."

you pressed a kiss to his palm, smiling softly. he moved his thumb, the pad of his finger tracing over your bottom lip. he leaned the side of his head against the headrest when you pressed a soft kiss to his finger, mumbling a soft, "fuck, if you keep this up, i'm going to have to fuck you in this parking lot."

you smirked over at him, "is that a challenge?"

he looked out to the parking lot, the only ones left were you and one other car he had assumed was the owner's.

fuck it.

he reached across the console, unbuckling the seatbelt you had done up before helping you climb over to the drivers side. you smiled down at him as he reclined the seat back, giving the both of you more room as you lowered yourself to his level, hand resting on the seat as you hovered over him.

"quit it," he said, helping you pull down your leggings and underwear, tugging down his own sweatpants but leaving the barrier of his boxers between the two of you.

"i just can't believe you're jealous of matt," you snickered, "of all people, matt? really?"

"shut up," he rolled his eyes, helping you out of your hoodie, "unless you want me to make you shut up."

"i don't know, this is fun, don't you think?"

he sighed, pulling you down for a kiss with one hand on the back of your neck as the other slipped between the two of you to find your clit. he smirked against your lips at the sound of your muffled whimper, his index finger slowly teasing you.

he pulled away, his lips on your neck. he spoke between kisses to your skin, "yeah, not so talkative now, hmm?"

"gotta do better than that."

without warning, he accepted your challenge and slid his finger into you with ease. you moaned softly, his queue to add another as you closed your eyes in pure bliss.

"what's the matter, baby?" he teased, "cat got your tongue?"

you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips, "just fuck me already."

"i'll think about it."

"lando!"

"this is fun, don't you think?" he threw your teasing words back at you, making you groan. your mouth fell open at the feeling of his thumb toying with your clit as his fingers worked inside of you, moving at a delicious pace because he knew your body and what you liked like the back of his hand. and he knew what buttons to push to make you beg for it, and boy was he going to push his limits today.

"tell me what you want, baby," he said, his teeth tugging on your earlobe, "c'mon, pretty girl."

"want you," you moaned, "please."

"see, that's all you had to say."

he slowly pulled his fingers out from inside you as you sat up, letting him pull down his boxers. his dick sprung free, slapping him in the stomach before he helped you lower yourself down onto it. you both moaned in unison at the feeling of him stretching you out, his hands gripping your hips as you slowly started rocking back and forth.

"fuck," he moaned, grabbing at your ass, your sign that he wanted to take control. he started thrusting up into you, making you moan loudly as he somehow went even deeper than before, "yeah, baby, who's pussy is this?"

"yours," you moaned softly, one of his hands coming up to pull down your sports bra, your tits bouncing freely as his fingers tweaked with your nipple.

"sorry baby, i didn't hear you. who's did you say?"

"yours, lando," you said louder, "fuck."

he moved his hand, fingers coming back to rub tight circles against your clit, "yeah, bet he wouldn't fuck you like this, would he?"

you shook your head, but that wasn't good enough for him.

"words."

"no," you said, "he wouldn't."

"yeah cause you're mine," he said, his thrusts somehow going deeper and faster in the confined space the two of you were in, "all mine. got it?"

you nodded, "always."

he smiled, bringing you back down for another kiss, a kiss full of love and passion despite how hard he currently was slamming into you. you moaned into his mouth, pulling away to speak, "just like this, fuck, i'm so close,"

he nodded, "me too," he spoke softly, "come for me, baby."

it didn't take much longer until you were squeezing around him, thighs shaking overtop of him as you moaned. he followed pursuit, his hips stilling as he came undone, the both of you sitting there for a minute to catch your breath.

you laid on his chest, his hands playing with your hair softly. you smiled at him and he smiled back down at you, "i love you, you know."

"i know," you smiled, "i love you too."

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "you hungry?"

"i could eat,"

"perfect," he said, tapping your hip, "let's get dressed."

after getting yourselves situated, you smiled as he placed his hand on your thigh, pulling out of the parking lot.

"you know," you bit back a laugh, "you should get jealous more often."

"i literally hate you." he sighed before laughing softly.

"you love me."

"i do."

[horrorartsworld]

Hi. Here a thought experimen. I'm not sure if this can be considered a request or a prompt or something. Just wondering what do you think about an Overlord reader who is insulted by Velvet's 'blatant vulgar display' at the overlords letting and wants to put the Vees in their place. And for start she would like to the get THE VALENTINO to rent him. To show him that he may be a pimp now but he was not always so high and mighty. This has been in my head for days now. It's a dark femmdom idea just rotting my brain. Giving old moth boy a taste of his own Poison.

i think this is juicy asf 🤭 AND I PURPOSELY MADE SURE TO HAVE THIS DONE BY VALENTINE’s DAy! ! so you sexy bitches eat up, mwah!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ ⁺

RENT-A-PIMP

valentino/overlord dom f!reader

warnings: 18+ nsfw, valentino getting domed FINALLY, cum denial, pussy drunk/eating

Scowling from your seat next to Zestial, your eyes never stopped following her every move…

The most incompetent, egotistical, annoying back-bone of the Vee’s, Velvette, was stomping around the table top in front of you spouting about some nonsense of fighting against the exorcists.

Making your blood boil at the site of someone with the same status as you having her way amongst some of the most powerful overlords in all of Hell, that were basically just gawking at her disrespectful behavior without lifting a single finger.

Your nails make a loud screeching noise while digging into the wood surface of the table with your frustration in which Zestial takes notice and nudges you to snap out of it. His glowing green eyes instantly calming with just a friendly look.

Huffing annoyed you slump in your chair as the little brat finishes up her last few pointless words and then finally exits throwing a middle finger up to the whole room with the door slamming behind her not shortly after.

There’s a moment of silence amongst the group as they all look over at Carmilla at the head of the table, who had already called for the meeting to be adjourned during her argument with Velvet, but everyone still sat waiting for proper direction. Until the silence was finally broken by the infamous radio demon stating in a rather chipper tone, “What a productive meeting!”

You attempt at holding in a laugh at this while everyone else finally takes that as a cue to disperse or mingle amongst the other overlords for a moment.

Stretching from your slump in your chair you can’t help but look over at Carmilla who had a somewhat pissed yet worried look on her face. “You alright Carmilla?” you ask softly tilting your head as she looks up at you with a small smile creeping on her lips.

“Yeah Y/n i’m fine…those Vee’s are just always looking for trouble..” she sighs shaking her head in disappointment.

“I’ll never understand why we don’t put them in their place…and why we even keep inviting them to shit when they don’t give a fuck about it.” you grumble with furrowed brows, Carmilla chuckles seeing how serious you looked when you spoke of revenge.

“It would make this whole empire crumble if we went after the Vee’s right now with the state we’re in…besides I would’ve already if I could..i don’t advise you to though..” her chuckles dying down as she gives you a more warning look, not wanting you to go after them yourself, but it was already too late.

The wheels in your mind were turning with a plan. “Oh noooooo i would never! Anywho i gotta go take care of something’s, cya!” you quickly replied, lying straight through your teeth as you scooted out of the room.

Carmilla watched you leave but she knew you all too well, she just hoped you knew what you were doing.

————————————

Valentino was immersed in the party life at the moment.

Iridescent lights flashing, deafening music blaring, sitting in his king pin like booth with two demon women at his side. Nursing on his usual intoxicating cigarette, the red smoke clouding above him while one of the females tugged on his coat with needy eyes.

“What is it doll?” he says with a sickening sweet draw, she then leans in close whispering a few naughty suggestions in the moth man’s ear, a pleased smirk forming on his face as he then picks her up in his arms about to take her somewhere private until he’s stopped mid stride.

“FUCK kitty…kind of trying to do something here..” he says with an impatient squeak, watching his little robo fizz stand in his way with that same toothy smile it always has, then it gestures eagerly for Valentino to follow it.

Valentino grumbles rolling his eyes, he roughly sets the demon girl down on the booth causing a yelp to escape her lips. “This better be good…” he stocks off following Kitty absentmindedly to his office.

Once there the door is already open, Val looks down suspiciously at the bot before entering. A sense of a different aura lingered in the air as the door suddenly shuts and locks behind him.

“Kitty, what the fuck! Open this damn door..” he seethes slamming his fist against it, only stopping when he hears a low seductive voice beckon him from behind, “There’s no need for that Valentino~”

The moth man’s wings twitch turning to investigate where that voice was coming from, which he then noticed out of the dark corner of the room a nice pair of legs sitting crossed on one of his plush pink arm chairs, delicious stockings working up to the upper thigh and adorned with laced up boots.

He scoffs with an eyebrow raised though he was slightly turned on by the sight. “Who the hell are you?”

“Not important..now come sit~” you say softly with a hint of demand behind it, gesturing towards a chair beside you that was waiting for him.

He scoffs crossing his arms over his chest, unmoving, “Oh yes it is…i’m not going to sit until you tell me who you are and what the fuck your doing in my office.”

You snicker seeing him become more sassy towards you, shaking your head as a bright purple chain appears in your grasp, lighting up bits of your face in the process. His red eyes widening behind his heart framed sunglasses at the realization of what was going on, you suddenly tug it forward with a giggle causing Valentino’s tall build to stumble toward you and fall to the ground with a loud thud.

You walk over to him, heels clicking threateningly amongst the floor until you stop where his face had planted, taking a clawed finger under his chin lifting it up to make his eyes meet your seductive yet powerful ones. “I own you for the next 24 hours mothy baby, which means you’ll have to do anything and everything I say~” a contract for a rental then appears in your opposite hand with his signature somehow on it. He looks at it baffled at how that possibly could’ve happened, not knowing you had one of those women in his booth from earlier trick him into signing it without realizing, leading him right to where he is now.

A wordless mess at your feet with his sunglasses now crooked on his face. You almost felt bad for him but you weren’t gonna feel bad for what you were about to do.

————————

Before Valentino could wrap his mind around anything he was already drunk off your pussy…You had stood over top of him while he held your hips in place, long pointed tongue plunging in and out of your hole. You kept your moans to a dull roar as you began to hear his pitiful whines against your now seeping cunt.

Wanting so badly to be tended to with his cock like he was to you, to the point he was so riled up that it was hurting .

“Shhh don’t be too loud baby…” you coo down at him, seeing how much of a mess he was making with your juices and his red salvia dripping down his chin.

“You don’t want the rest of the Vee’s or your workers realizing that their pimp daddy is just a bitch boy in heat, hmm?” you chuckle throwing your head back when his tongue finally brought you to your release, thighs squeezing against his face with your cum spilling into his mouth.

“Good boy…” you purr as he quiets down a bit while cleaning you up.

You stand up properly looking down at his dazed expression, eyes racking down to see his hard-on straining against his pants, snickering you part his legs settling yourself between them where he sat on the floor, unbuckling his big heart belt, setting his cock free. Val then lets out a hopeful sigh that was quickly replaced with a moan that sounded more like a wounded animal once you squeezed his cock in your fist playfully, his head throwing back as the sudden pressure overwhelmed him.

“T-too sensitive-” he musters through shaky breaths, you only give him a half pout smearing his pre over the tip slowly, letting your thumb linger over his slit.

“Awww when did you start caring about sensitivity?” you couldn’t help but jab at him as you were loving this a little too much. He glares at you for a moment that didn’t go unnoticed making you start jerking him with a rather quickened pace.

“W-Wait! Wait! Wait!” he squeaks loudly with his legs thrashing next to you. You didn’t listen waiting till you hear his breathing get faster and cock twitch in your hand till you halted your motions right before he was about to cum.

Valentino looks down at his cock confused, seeing it was now a dark purple leaking with pre droplets.

Crying not shortly after figuring out your ulterior motivates, bucking his hips into nothing as he practically threw a tantrum, cock bouncing with his weakened thrusts as he babbled on about why he needed to cum. Tears streaking his face.

You waited patiently watching this all unfold, until the whining turned into small sniffles and his bucking slowed down, looking at you with the most glossy eyes you’ve ever seen on a moth. If only you had a camera right now to video this.

“Are you done now you big baby?” he nods, while you hesitate for a moment seeing if he was truly done before you went at it once more only to deny his release again and again.

Until it comes to one point, when he can't seem to take it anymore. His orgasm hits before you can even notice it, and his cum squirts out of his cock in thick, heavy streams. Some getting on your face and the rest on his nice dress pants. He sobs finally feeling euphoric though he begged you to let him cum again, this time inside you.

You lick off the cum on your face before you hover over him once more.

“I should punish you for that you know…”

Valentino pouts about to plea for forgiveness until you sink down onto him. His mind going crazed with the feeling of you enveloping him with your warm insides.

“Just shut the fuck up and let me fuck you”

In which he did just that surprisingly enough.

A pimp who wasn’t so tough anymore, now mere mush in your hands.

The one thing you couldn’t wait for is to see the looks on the other two’s faces when they find that one of their Vee’s have flown way too close to the lamp light.

And got his shit ROCKED.

[kakujis]

ALL I WANTED WAS YOU.

and when the world treats you way too fairly... well, it's a shame i'm a dream.

synopsis: a break up is nothing, not when the two of you are sworn to be together. satoru thinks you just need a little reminder.

warnings: dark content. ageless blogs + minors DNI. afab!fem reader, sub!reader, yandere!satoru, switching povs at times, possessive behavior, dubcon, recording, dacryphilia, cheating (not on gojo), somno, praise, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break(?), begging, fingering, oral f!receiving, choking, pussy slapping, creampie, masochism (reader), tiny bit of man handling and hair pulling. he is mean AND whiny. he literally sniffs u at one point lol. you wear makeup. implied multiple rounds.

ft + wc: gojo x reader, around 5.2k

@enchantedforest-network

an: hi, so like months ago (as all my wips start) i had this idea for toxic!ex bf gojo which delved into yan gojo LOL. he is so hard to write... like wtf... so anyway this was been rotting away since september!! i think i did lose my mind just a little bit writing this ngl LMFAO. idk if i really leaned that heavily into the yan, but we are going to truck along and post this anyways. thanks for waitin'. also, thank you to dooby and sky for both proofreading and giving me some ideas to push through, @sxgars for the banner, and my brain/fingers for not giving up.

gojo satoru still remembers the day you left, eyes puffy and face streaked with makeup as you stormed out of your shared apartment. in gojo’s mind, it was fine, you’d be back. no matter how big of a fight, you always came back. 

but it’s been months now of you ignoring his calls and texts, avoiding him whenever you see him. you’ve even blocked him on some of your social media platforms since he can only access the ones you haven’t used in years. most people have told him to let it go, move on, it’s not worth it. but satoru’s heart knows what it wants and at the core of it all, it wants: you. 

he thinks you might need a little coaxing, something to help you realize you love him again. once he finds out your address, his plan is set. he spruces himself up, spritzing on the cologne of his that was your favorite, even getting suguru to stop by the flower shop near his workplace to grab you a bouquet. yes, gojo’s got it all figured out. he’ll swing by, shower you in love like he used to, and you’ll realize you missed him just as bad. 

imagine his dismay when you won’t even open the door, your voice muffled from the other side. you tell him to leave, it’s over, you don’t want to see him anymore. he begs you to open it, just give him one more chance, but you sigh, crack the door open a smidge, and tell him. 

“satoru, leave. my boyfriend’s here.” 

he thinks that word is disgusting if he’s not the one it’s referring to. maybe you’re lying, maybe it’s another ruse to get him to piss off, but when you peek behind your shoulder, giving a little smile, the kind you used to give gojo, soft, sweet, loving; he realizes you’re completely honest. 

the lump in his throat is sticky, clinging onto the walls of his neck like gum. meanwhile, his heart feels like it’s beating in his ears, a not-so-friendly reminder of his fragility. 

you turn back, eyeing the flowers, an assortment of your favorite kinds - satoru, satoru, i like these, see? - and in a moment of soft-heartedness, step out. you can’t deny the pull of your heartstrings, satoru’s endearing aura plucking at them in a solemn tune, but you’re different now. you don’t need satoru anymore.  

“look,” you start, adjusting his tie and fixing the crinkling cellophane. “maybe you could give this to someone else? they’re so pretty, someone out there would be lucky to have them. and, you’re satoru, handsome, funny, sweet. you’ll find someone else in no time!” 

but he just stares, eyes boring into you as if it feels like the wind’s been taken out of him as your words fall on deafened ears. fuck the flowers, you’re so pretty, you’re the one people are lucky to have. in a sense, he’s bewildered because there’s no way you’ve actually moved on… right? 

you sigh again, a hint of exasperation tinging your voice, “gojo, i think… this should be the last time we see each other.” you step back, hand on the door handle. to you, this is a step in the right direction. 

for him, he finds that the way you don’t use his first name has him wanting to rip his hair out from the root. 

“wait, please, i love you.” he states, finally finding his voice, feeling like his time with you is running out. his lip quivers while his heart continues to shatter with each passing second. “i’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

ah. same old satoru, the man who swore he’d take the moon from the sky if you wanted. anyone looking in would swear you were lucky, but you remember things being a little… suffocating. it was too much, too overwhelming eventually. 

you bite your lip, strengthening your hold on the handle, ready to leave. you can’t meet his gaze, knowing that if you do you might falter. “but i don’t. i don’t love you anymore.” - it’s a lie, you know it is from the little bud inside your chest blooming, breaking out past the walls of your heart, but you just… can’t. 

he shakes his head, taking a step forward. “you don’t mean that.” 

“i do, satoru!” you flinch at your own voice, taking a deep breath to calm down. “please, just leave.” you tell him one more time before you retreat back inside and slam the door. 

he waits for a few minutes, thinking that maybe he’s on one of those prank shows. you’re going to open the door, tell him it was a joke, and to come inside. except you don’t, and he’s stuck under the low flickering haze of your complex’s lights. 

gojo’s a bit stunned on the walk back home, foggy eyesight mixed with thoughts flying a mile a minute equates to a tall stumbling man with no care for those around him. he can’t even count how many people he’s bumped into, let alone the amount of sorrys he’s muttered, the now crumpled bouquet still firmly held in his hand, indicated by the whites of his knuckles. 

when he gets home, he sinks into the floor, his head wrapped around his arms before he flings the bouquet across the room. “fuck!” a picture frame of the two of you clatters to the floor, glass breaking in tiny, jagged pieces. he kept it after all, in hopes that you’d come back eventually, but now it’s clear you’re not. he doesn’t even care that he’s knocked something off a table, he’s so fucking hurt.

hurt that you’ve moved on so easily, hurt that you’re out there calling someone else ‘baby’. he can’t fucking stand it, wanting to rip out the baseboards of his home or set it all on fire. from the first day he met you, gojo’s always firmly believed you were made for him. that thought was always reaffirmed with every ‘i love you,’ that dripped from your lips into his ear every morning and evening. 

maybe it’s not the best timing, but he remembers other things as well. like each time he’s been deep inside you and your pretty mouth would hang open, eyes blown and glassy, as you gasped out his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say. or even the times you took initiative yourself, crawling under the covers to wake him up, kitten licks and sloppy kisses to his cockhead. his own eyes met yours, with a lidded call of reverence, and that was all he needed to know. 

there’s no reason to wallow, he thinks, a small reignition of flame in his gut brewing. each passing memory that trickles by is another reminder that you did love him. no, that’s not right. you do love him.

okay, he thinks, i can still fix this. you just need a little reminding is all. you love him and you’re just a little confused. maybe his mind is breaking, but he reminds himself that it’s better his mind than his heart. 

”yeah,” he mumbles, dusting himself as he gets up off the floor. “she still loves me.” 

to be honest, breaking and entering wasn’t really his thing, he never saw the appeal in it before. but, this isn't really a break in, he’s just visiting his girl. he will say though, you did make it a little too easy by keeping your key under the mat. no, you kept it easy because you knew he was coming, simple as that. 

he goes in tentatively at first, wanting to see what you’ve done with the place, nodding in approval as he scans over the rooms. you’ve done a good job, just like you did before, but he does frown when not a single one of his photos is up. you must have forgotten or maybe you’re trying to save your new boy toy some heartbreak. silently, he walks over to your bedroom door, peeking in.

his mouth quips up into a smile when he sees you. you’re pretty as you sleep, just like he remembers. you’ve always been a heavy sleeper, mouth slightly agape as your drool dribbled down into the pillow. 

“hey beautiful…” he murmurs when he reaches you, bending down to brush away a few strands of loose hair from your face. 

a little “mm,” leaves your lips as your face twists at his touch. he leans in til he’s just a hair’s breadth away, before he ghosts his lips over yours slightly. still the same old you, lips just as soft as he remembers and what little self restraint he had continues to chip away. 

the hot breath of exhales continue to mix as satoru spends his time taking in your scent. he tries his best not to whine when you pull away slightly, once again leaning further in to stay as close to you as possible. if he could get high off of it, he probably could, but the ache in his belly grows. he needs you. 

“wait a minute…” he mumbles when you try to once again turn away. “why are you always trying to run away from me?” it’s a silly question, rhetorical since you’re still locked in the deep throes of sleep. but your body seems to answer in place of your voice when your legs rub against the sheets and your chest once again heaves itself over, leaving him behind. 

he’s sad that you’ve taken away his favorite aromatic, but with your shuffling, you’ve moved the blankets down letting him get a peek of your bare skin. you’re always a sight to behold and his fingers run themselves lightly over your body before he’s pulling the blanket off you completely. 

you’ve always been a heavy sleeper, affectionately dubbed his “sleepy wife,” even though you were never married. it’s been a while since his hands burned with such intensity, running up and down your thigh and leg, even tracing along the curvature of your ass. 

his knee dips into the bed as he finally looms over you, pushing you gently onto your back, before he’s prying your thighs open with one hand. he thinks he should take his time, savor it, satoru, but you’re just so… inviting. he runs a finger across the waistband of your shorts, experimentally tugging lightly. he flickers his eyes between his hands and your face, seeking for any signs of waking as he slowly starts to expose more and more skin. 

hints and glimpses of skin are all he needs to get riled up, further than he already is, as he takes the leap and pulls your bottoms off completely. 

“oh fuck princess,” he groans when he sees your pretty pussy for the first time in months. he’s nearly salivating like a dog as he remembers just how good you taste, bending down to get perched between your thighs. 

the first kitten lick against your clit chips away at his already waning self control. the next one that delved between your folds nearly completely breaks it. but he’s missed tasting you on his buds, missed consuming what was his. take your time, satoru. his mind ticks again, and he settles back to prepare a nice lob of spit before he’s letting it fall onto your pussy. 

you shiver unconsciously at the sensation and he takes a pause, not wanting you to wake just yet. you’d probably flip out on him and he can’t have you getting mad at him just yet. 

he waits until you settle again before he’s diving back in, driving his tongue between your folds as he laps up your essence. to say he was starving was an understatement, for these past months he’s felt like he’s been dying. 

it’s intoxicating as your juices and his saliva mix to dribble down his chin, dripping onto your bed sheets below. he eats you out like it's his first real meal in months, tongue lapping as much of your essence as he can while his fingers dig deep into the plush skin of your thighs.

he shudders as he grinds his hips into your mattress, the tip of his nose running against your clit sending little shockwaves up your unconscious body. you taste just as good as he remembers, losing himself in the sweet slick of your cunt.

your eyelids finally flutter open, readjusting to the darkened light of your room, but you can't miss that familiar snowy peak of hair settled in between your thighs.

"satoru?" you breathe, meeting his lidded eyes as your hands come down to immediately push back against his forehead, but instead your fingers curl up into his locks. 

“hi,” he chimes, smiling against your pussy as he readjusts, sitting up to shoot you a wicked smile. “hi baby, good mornin’.” the tone ofhis voice is sweet, nearly identical to what it was like when you were together.

he replaces his tongue with his fingers, whining a little when he feels you clench down onto them as he starts to scissor you open. 

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you hiss, but your body jerks when he rubs against a particularly sweet spot of yours. 

“i missed you. i can’t visit?” he pouts, pressing a kiss against your clit before his tongue is laving over it again as if to make a point. “did you miss me?” he asks when your eyes roll back and you tug just a bit harder on his hair. 

“no.” you grit, but you can’t stop the way your hips buck up into him. 

“you’ve always been a bad liar, angel.” he shrugs, before he’s latching onto your cunt again.

he’s eaten you out more times than either of you can count, he knows exactly how to get you there. he knows it’s just a little bit more until you fall apart. he’s back on with even more fervor, alternating between sucking on your clit to sloppily and quickly flicking his tongue against it. 

“oh fuck,” you mewl, throwing your head back and thrashing as you come undone on his fingers, pussy fluttering and toes curling. 

“see, i knew you missed me.” he grins, as he brings his fingers up to suck at the slick around them. you’re still panting as you try to close your legs, but satoru’s fast, bringing his hands back down to tear them open. “ah ah ah,” he tuts, “we’re not done til i say so, got it?”  

“sa- gojo, you need to leave.” you plead, head heavy and stomach churning at what’s just happened. you fucked up but it’s fine, you can fix this still. 

“why?” he asks, “your boyfriend gonna come home?” fine, he’ll play your little game for now. he’ll antagonize you for a bit, before he’s disgustingly sweet again, just like the good ole days. but there’s also the anger brewing within him, why the fuck won’t you just come home? 

he smirks when you pause, already knowing the answer, “don’t tell me you two aren’t living together?” 

you shake your head, “that’s none of your business, gojo.” in hindsight, after satoru, you wanted to take things slowly the next time. moving in after only a month of dating probably wasn’t the best idea. 

“why not? i’ve got a right to know what you’re up to.” he pouts as he says it, hoping your irritation will ease up. 

you scoff, narrowing your eyes, “since when?” but your attitude is nothing more than a facade, always has been. “we’re not even together anymore-“ 

“since i decided, you’re mine.” he snaps, cutting you off and leaning down into you. “i decided that years ago by the way, and i’m not gonna let some fucking random mess with us.” 

you squeak as you hear him rustle with his pants, freeing his aching cock and you hate the way your stomach flip flops when you see it. it’s been so long since you’ve been fucked let alone touched. gojo was the last person to have you writhing underneath him and if you told him, he’d have even more of a need to keep it that way. 

your tough facade is breaking, you’re falling back into your hazy, mindless, and needy ways. you love satoru, even if the relationship was toxic, even if he gave you so little breathing room. but not yet, you won’t give in just yet. 

you try to scramble back further before you’re able to twist out of his hold for just a moment. but he grabs your hair by the root, twisting and pulling you back close to him and you yelp, clawing at his hand.

“baby, you’re really testing my patience.” he hisses into your ear, before he’s shoving you back down on the bed. “god, you know i hate being mean to you. just be good for once, yeah?” 

“gojo, leave.” you try one more time, but the hands that push up against him are so weak that he can tell your body’s betraying you. not only that, but your thighs shake at the pain in your scalp and you wish he would do it again. 

“i don’t think you want me to.” he states and you hate that he’s right. you don’t want him to leave, you want him to slide into you, filling you up. “or am i wrong?” he asks, looming over you, running his pretty cockhead through your folds. “go ahead, tell me to stop.” 

you bite your lip in an effort to not gasp out a pathetic moan, squeezing your eyes shut. each run against your clit has your legs widening, almost like you’re inviting him to come in. 

“knew it,” he quips, before he’s prodding at your entrance. your eyes fly open then, breathing heavily through your nose, but you don’t try to back off letting him glide in, inch by inch. “it’s cause you love me.” 

“i don’t,” you exhale as you watch his dick disappear within you, stretching you further than his fingers did. you’re nearly breathless when he finally bottoms out, fists balling into your sheets. 

“yes, you do,” he breathes, his own breathing jagged and rushed, almost like it’s being squeezed out of him. “you always have and always will.”

gojo satoru always fucks with your psyche, one of the many reasons you decided to leave him. it wasn’t obvious, not at first and neither was it nefarious. it was silly little item mix ups, funny conversations that seemed to follow satoru’s lead, until it was a loss of freedom, like a nightingale in a cage. 

huh? no, you’re meeting them next week… yeah, you told me last night. 

but that’s not- 

it is. check your phone. 

oh, i guess it… is? 

c’mon, would i lie to you princess? now you can hang out with me all day. 

and then suddenly it was all too clear when you did get that girl’s trip out, when your friends stared at you like you were fucking insane. it wasn’t normal at all that you couldn’t do a single thing without him. your friends helped you fit the pieces together and that was enough. you were going. 

leaving that day was easy, satoru hated seeing you upset and was more than willing to give you space when needed. it always went one way: you cool off, he swoops in and dresses up his words extra nicely to make you stay. but you didn’t this time. 

it was easier to leave all your things there as well instead of trying to leave in the middle of night. you thought you could do it, away from him you’d figure things out. 

but there must have been a part of you that still wanted him to chase after you, a divergent, rogue piece that strayed too far from the board. is that why you didn’t leave the city? still a part within satoru’s web of connected streets, just waiting until you were ensnared again. 

his eyes are still as pretty, his face almost too handsome, and voice just as alluring as before. you guess that’s what this is, a predator just waiting to stick his fangs into your neck.

“you’re insane,” you gasp out, holding onto your tiniest bit of strength. 

“aw, just for you.” he smiles, before he’s rolling his hips into yours, grinding in just the way you like, just as you remember. 

with each stutter of his hips, your walls twitch around his length and body jolts in waves of pleasure. soft gasps and moans tumble off your lips and satoru buries his face into your neck, nipping little marks into your skin, almost as if he’s etching one word into it: mine. 

it hits him almost instantly, this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he remembers that stupid little nuisance. he uses his hands to push up, still ramming into you as he takes a look at your face contorted in pleasure, as you peek up at him. 

“gojo?” you mumble, trying to take into account that look in his eye, but your head is bubbly with the pleasure he’s giving you. 

even with your walls clenching down around him with each roll of his hips, his anger seeps into him like water to a sponge as he tries to block out the idea that someone else was in what was his. that they probably saw this face that you’re making and got to hear your pretty little moans. 

“where’s your fucking phone?” he hisses, snatching it off the nightstand when he finds it, illuminated by the notifications of text messages from your “boyfriend.”

you whimper, trying to grab it, but satoru holds your hands together by the wrist, strategically keeping them against your chest so you can’t move up. 

“gojo, don’t!” you plead, snapping out of your trance for a moment, but the grip on your wrist tightens and you yelp. followed next is a glare, his gaze striking you right to the core. your words die off and he goes back to looking at your phone. it’s easy to unlock, you never changed the pass code. 

his eyes scan the texts quickly and frankly, it’s fucking disgusting to read this guy call you pet names that only satoru can say. he continues to scroll, trying his best to not dig his nails deep into your skin as he takes note of every heart emoji, flirtatious interaction, and pet name from your end. 

he keeps his breathing deep and even to keep himself from blowing his lid and he has half a mind to block his number to make sure you can’t speak to him again. but suddenly he’s got a better idea, getting back at him seemed so easy. 

you look so cute underneath him, pretty pussy enveloping his cock just like it was made to do, why not show it off? especially to someone that pissed him off. 

“hey baby, can you smile for me?” he says, voice sugary sweet as he opens your camera app, but you shake your head, trying to sink further into the pillow. you’re wary of the sudden personality change, especially when he finally releases your hands. 

he pouts, “c’mon now, you’re so pretty when you smile… please?” he sighs when you continue to refuse, but continues on, angling the camera til he’s satisfied with the image. 

“god, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” he says as he zooms onto your flushed face, hands coming up to hide it, before paneling back to record down your body. he stops when he reaches where both your hips are flush together, pussy sucking in his cock right to the brim. “fuck, would you look at that? i don’t even know your name man, but how fuckin’ pretty is this?” 

you gasp when you realize what he’s doing, but before you can say anything, you feel a hand come down onto your sensitive pussy. you yelp out but his hand comes down again and you're mortified when it sounds more like a moan. “bet you didn’t know she liked that,” he goads, “she also likes this.” he says, wrapping a hand around your jugular and giving a squeeze. 

your eyes roll back as the air escapes you, muddying your sight in little black dots. your hands fall to pull at his wrist, a moot effort considering the strength difference, and he laughs. a condescending flit of noise dripping in ego. “scratch that, she fucking loves that. hey, in my defense, i’m a little rusty, it’s been a while.” 

gojo has always been one of two things, needy and arrogant. but the worst was always when the two came together, usually in his worst fits of jealousy. he’s never recorded you before, always too eager to remember to set anything up before he’s pouncing on you.

but this satoru feels different, he feels scarier, nearly dangerous, although you shake off that fear til it’s nothing more than a fleeting thought. you liked this - no he was right, you loved this. before you broke up you were always begging satoru, just a little harder, just a little meaner, please.

with another heavy squeeze as the oxygen is once again cut off from you, you feel the walls around your heart finally crumbling completely, almost like a switch is flipped on. you can’t run from nor deny the heady need that was gojo satoru, the man that knew you in and out. you flutter your lashes at him, like you always did when you wanted to tell him something. he loosens his grip on your neck, just enough so that you can speak, “you wanna say somethin’, baby?” 

“u-use me,” you mumble, voice no louder than a whisper as your eyes start to leak that familiar pretty liquid that drives him insane. you’ve missed him, missed this - whatever the fuck it was, some messed up amalgamation dressed up under the guise of love. 

“hm?” he goads, a sick smile plastered on his face because you’re finally acting how you should. “a little louder for me, princess. i can’t hear you.” 

“use me!” you sob, trying to shift your hips to get some sort of stimulation, “please, satoru, please.” 

the use of his first name has him feeling like an actual god as he switches the camera back onto him. “you heard her.” he says with a wicked grin, before ending the video and pressing send. he tosses your phone to the side, “now where were we?” 

you whine when he shifts, one elbow propping him up as his hand once again finds it’s place against your neck. your own hand resumes it’s place as well, but instead of pulling this time you press, lashes heavy with tears as you wordlessly beg satoru to claim what’s his again. 

he’s so close to you now, his snowy hair tickles your forehead and his breath mixes with yours as he finally starts to move. you choke out a sob as he ever so slowly hits all the right places and you wonder how long you actually managed to make this far. 

“this is what you wanted isn’t it, baby?” he coos, being careful to not choke you for too long, even though you almost wish he’d fuck you passed out. “just needed a little reminder that i’m all you need right?” 

you nod, hiccuping with each thrust that knocks any air you have left out of your lungs. he’s right, just the two of you is all either of you need. you think the world is melting away as satoru presses kisses against your spit ridden lips, his own groans mixing in with yours as your tongues mesh together in sloppy, messy runs. 

“and now you’re gonna cum on my cock, aren’t you?” he picks up the pace, slamming in harder, rougher, like he’s proving a point. but he’s almost always right, with each kiss of his mushroom tip against your sweet spot pulsing pleasure throughout your body. “show me how much you love me.” 

“‘m close, toru,” you sniffle, nails digging into his arm as you blink away more tears, gasping up into his mouth. “‘m so close, please.” 

“i know.” he states, pressing his forehead against yours, sticky and sweat covered, as he gazes into your glassy, hazy eyes. “come on, cum for me princess. show me who you belong to.” 

there’s something so euphoric about satoru’s words, claiming every last bit of you, that you fall apart almost instantly. your orgasm hits you hard, rippling through you as your eyes and head both roll back, your pussy clenching down on his thick cock. 

“f-fuck! cumming, toru, i’m-“ you squeal, tears running down your face freely but satoru swallows up your moans, his lips once again sealing over yours, since those belong to him too. 

that’s enough for him, a firm affirmation that you love him, and he loses control of his once precise thrusts. he pistons into you, heavy balls slapping against your skin and pounding hard as if to leave marks all up your velvet walls. you milk out his own orgasm, walls fluttering and he detaches from your lips to growl out, “you’re all fucking mine, got it?” 

you chant out “yes,” as many times you can, still riding out your own orgasm as his cum paints your walls in white, til he finally slows back down to a stuttering close. he pants as he runs his hand up to rub his thumb over your tear-ridden cheek. 

“i love you.” he mumbles and you blink up at him sleepily meeting his pretty lidded blue eyes. it’s a stark contrast to the satoru just moments ago, pounding into you like his life depended on it. 

“love you too, toru.” you whisper, running a hand over his. your head and body feel heavy, yet your mind is still floating above the clouds. he’s probably oversensitive but you can’t care, knowing that your neck is prettier now that his fingerprints are littered on it. “toru… again.” 

he laughs when he feels you start to grind your hips, sticky slick and cum dripping from your hole. he feels like he’s on cloud nine hearing you beg for him after all this time. 

“please, please, toru,” you whine, craning your neck to brush sloppy, wet kisses across his lips and jawline. “i love you, so please.” 

“course, angel,” he mumbles in between kisses, “just gimme a few minutes and i’ll give you everything you want.” 

[muntitled]

hii! can i please request smothering riize with hugs after they've had a long day? no pressure, tysm! (ps you're so pretty)

Thank you, darling

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 | 𝐑𝐢𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Pairings: ot7 x fem!reader

Cw: Tooth rotting absolutely sickening relationship Fluff, Suggestive content

A/n: I hardly ever do this, but I couldn't ignore how cute this request was. I don't even know if I can write Fluff, cause I'm always writing trauma based nonsense, but I love Riize so let's see...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

─── ⋆⋅ Shotaro

Affection is an abundant asset in your relationship, something I imagine you both reciprocating so seamlessly, whether in the presence of outsiders or not. Dawn could be bleeding into an early evening when your tired, overworked boyfriend finds himself ambling his way back home. Sporting a slightly worn version of the perpetual smile he always wore on his face when he drearily pushes in the password sequence for the door lock. Despite how utterly defeated his muscles feel from the strenuous amount of dancing he’s pushed himself through, Shotaro still finds his face muscles widening into an even bigger smile when you’re standing in the middle of the hall waiting for him on the other side.

“Stalker much?” He mumbles despite the smile blossoming onto his face. You roll your eyes but open your arms nonetheless, watching in amusement as Shotaro quickly kicks off his shoes to ram himself into your arms. His face is buried in between your neck and shoulders despite the height difference, and he exhales loudly when he feels your arms enclose around his back. You would stay in this position however long Shotaro felt was necessary because if you dare try to pull away first, you'd probably have to deal with a series of whining and ‘Do I smell that bad?’ Or

‘If you hate me, just say that’’

He would, in fact, pout up a storm, so please just leave him be, thanks.

─── ⋆⋅ Eunseok

By and large, not an affectionate person in the slightest, but you are… so he physically and quite frankly just had to just deal with it. Whenever the sudden urge to just feel him in your arms would ween its way into your heart, you’d go find him purely to satiate this desire.

He’d see you coming, jokingly swerving past your open arms, as he made his to your bedroom. He would eventually let you catch him and tackle him in a swarm of warmth and love.

His body is as rigid as an arrow.

"You're leeching," he'd deadpan, but you never moved away from him, choosing instead to wrap your legs around his torso, burying your face into the hard outlines of his chest.

"Yeah, well, you'd just have to deal with it or shoot me,"

"I don't have a gun on me," he'd mumble, and despite it all, you'd eventually feel his hand coming up behind you, fingers rubbing up and down your back in a Featherlite touch.

─── ⋆⋅ Sungchan

Would turn any innocent display of affection, like you simply wanting to wrap him up in a hug, into something less than innocent.

You would, simply and succinctly, feel the need to press up against him in a line at the grocery shop. While you both waited for the line to progress, you would hook your arms around his. Because of yet another ungodly height difference, you’re resting your head against his torso, immediately rousing him from whatever thoughts were turning the cogs in his head.

He’d gently rest his hand on your side, rubbing dizzying circles until his hand swiped lower than it was supposed to, immediately causing you to push off him with a smack and a scoff.

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” You’d mumble unimpressed.

“You’re so sexy when you’re mad at me,” He’d mumble, looking down at you with hooded eyes.

‘Don’t piss me off’ is a near constant phrase in your relationship.

─── ⋆⋅ Wonbin

He's almost always doing absolutely nothing when the sudden urge to envelop him in your arm strikes out of nowhere. You could both be reclined comfortably on the couch, heavily invested some over produced Hollywood nonsense before your attention turns to your boyfriend, munching idly on his popcorn while his eyes stay glued om the TV in front of him. His hair tucked under a beanie while the rest of his clad in comfortable oversized clothes.

You'd quite literally lunge at him in a moment of weakness, arms encircling around his head as you pull the beanie off and pull him tightly.

“Can I never have peace in your presence?” He'd ask in his incredibly soft voice before relaxing in your hold, letting himself sink on top of you with his head buried in your chest.

“You say that, but I know your ass loves it-”

“I love your boobs,” he'd mumble before placing a kiss on your chest.

“This is a shit movie,” you'd mumble back, “I hope you know that,”

“Shush,” He'd silence you by placing a finger on your lips. “Keep doing that.” He says, and you stroke his head idly as he resumes watching his bad movie.

─── ⋆⋅ Seunghan

Another one who'd turn an innocent hug into something completely uncalled for. He'd motion for you to join him on the couch with like a flick of his head while he's playing video games, and you'd plop down beside him. Without peeling his eye away from his game, he'd snidely inform you that, “I don't have rabies,”

You'd smile mumbling your little, “I know,”

He'd peer intermittently at you, voice monotonous as he says, “Then why are you over there?”

You'd almost immediately shuffle onto his lap and he'd recline backwards, giving you more space to wrap your arms around him and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

“Focus on your game,” you'd chide lightly when you feel him readjusting himself underneath you.

“Fuck the game.”

─── ⋆⋅ Sohee

It would be weird if he didn't find himself locked in your hold whenever you were in the same vicinity as you. Sohee was like a mother to a flame whenever you two were around each other. This is but a known fact to acquaintances and his members alike. If you stopped by to watch a snippet of his sance practice, his smile would brighten at the sight of you. Alert the nearest member to your presence as if they didn't have eyes themselves. He would quite literally be jumping on the balls of his heels in anticipation for the next break. You'd watch him from the sidelines with a small smile and a wave, which he returns enthusiastically. Once break his call, Sohee makes a direct beeline towards you, and you unconsciously open your arms, allowing him to walk right into them. His front pressed to yours as he mumbled incoherently about his day.

“You smell so good-” he'd ignore the snickers of his fruends behind him, all watching this public display of affection with immense amusement.

“They're just jealous,” he'd say and you'd nod in encouragement, kissing the tip of his nose in agreement.

─── ⋆⋅ Anton

He may not be the first to initiate the affection, but he would never, ever push you away. It could be the dead of night when you find your boyfriend working very meticulously on his laptop.

Mixing and mastering various beats and melodies with his eyebrows scrunched in absolute concentration. You’d gradually make your way into the room, eyes glimmering with intention as you wrap your arms around him from behind.

“Woah,” He'd say softly, “Hi.”

Bending down to splay gentle kisses on his cheek. A cheek that steadily grows warmer, the longer your lips drag across his soft skin.

“What're you busy with, Big boy?” He'd try valiantly, to stave off the heat of arousal that tightens his lower abdomen, clearing his throat lightly.

“O-Oh well, I'm just finishing up this demo,” he hates the way his voice stutters unnaturally just the sheer proximity of you. “I don't even know if this'll make it onto the album- ah jeez,” he squeezes his eyes shut because your lips are brushing against the underside of his ear now. Your arms are wrapped warmly around him from behind and he's in complete heaven.

“I'm trying to splice this beat into something that sounds less like a Brickwall filter and more of something actually listenable,” he snorts lightly through his nose.

“I don't know what any of those words mean, Ant,” mumble into his neck.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[d10nyx]

addicted to hurting

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hate sex, one bed trope(love it idc), p in v, mean leon, huddle for warmth n that, fingering, p in v, creampie, degradation ig, one use of good girl

a/n: request for @princesspalac :) sorry it took so long, um... my brain didn't want to work for this. guys don't question the title i hate naming fics... this one especially but it's from drugs by eden

word count: 1.6k words

It was an undisputed fact that you and Leon did not get on well. Everyone knew it - the both of you made it very clear with your constant bickering.

But you were also both very competent agents, and that often meant you got assigned to missions together. It was usually fine, you both had enough professionalism to suck it up and get on with it, but he really seemed to want to wear your patience thin this time around.

It had been snowing heavily, and the chopper wouldn't be able to get to the extraction point. You'd been told that you should try and find shelter for the night, and when the snowstorm cleared up tomorrow, you'd both get evacuated. You had secured all the mission objectives and found an abandoned cabin to hole up in for the night, but the cold air nipped at your skin and made it impossible for you to relax.

You complain a little about having to stay here, shivering slightly as you settle on a worn down chair, the wood looking like it's halfway to rotting. You're surprised it hasn't given up under your weight at this point.

Eventually, Leon snaps.

“Jesus Christ. Do you ever shut the hell up?” He grumbles, running a hand through his hair, his brows pulled together in frustration. You scoff at him, your arms wrapped around your waist to keep you warm.

“It's fucking cold, and your attitude has been pissing me off all day. Apologies if I'm not a ray of sunshine.” You bite back, trying to ignore the chill settling deep in your bones.

He just glares at you before moving away, checking the perimeter and securing any entrances to the cabin. You take the opportunity to explore the other rooms, your heart sinking when you realise one very important detail.

There's only one bed.

Great. Fucking amazing. As if this day couldn't get any worse. You hear footsteps approaching, and you can sense the moment Leon realises the same thing by his sharp intake of breath.

“No. Absolutely not.” He says quickly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway of the bedroom.

You dislike this just as much as he does, but it's probably a blessing in disguise. The both of you were too proud to admit it, but you'd likely freeze to death if you didn't huddle for warmth. The sun had only just set, and it was already this cold. You didn't want to imagine what it'd be like later.

“We're going to need to share it.” You say simply, approaching the bed and lying down facing away from Leon, staring at the wall as you wait for him to do the same.

“Well?” You say after a moment, noticing he hadn't come any closer. He hadn't moved from his spot, just staring distasteful at the empty spot in the bed. “Are you going to join me? Or did you drag your ass through herds of infected just to freeze to death?”

That gets a scowl from him. He kicks off his boots before approaching, settling on the edge of the bed and doing his best to keep his distance from you.

“You're going to need to come closer, or we're both going to be out of commission.” You say through gritted teeth, already frustrated with his attitude.

He lets out a soft grunt, but he shifts closer. He's practically spooning you, now, but you can feel the cold radiating from him. Neither of you had the chance to warm up yet, and you can't help but shift slightly in the bed, trying to get your blood circulating so you can warm up.

“Can you stop your squirming?” He hisses, his hand clamping down on your hip to still your movements. He seems so much closer now, his warm breath brushing the skin on the back of your neck and giving you goosebumps.

“I was just trying to get warm.”

“Then come here.” With that, he tugs you into his body, wrapping his arms tight around you. His nose presses against the crook of your neck, and you feel your heart racing. You feel warmer, sure, but you can't ignore the feeling of his muscles tensing as he holds you.

You don't mean to keep moving, but there's something uncomfortable about Leon of all people holding you so close. You try to put some distance between the two of you while staying close enough to feel his body heat.

“For fuck-” He lets out a deep breath from his nose, and then he's gripping you tighter, pulling you back against him. “Didn't I tell you to stop moving?”

You open your mouth to speak, but it's quickly stopped by a palm pressing firmly against the lower half of your face. “No. I'm so sick of your shit. All you've done is bitch the entire mission about being cold, and now I'm trying to help, you're being a fucking brat about it.”

His fingers push past your lips. He frowns slightly as you keep your jaw clenched, so he reaches his other hand around to squeeze the sides of your cheeks, prying your teeth apart so he can shove his fingers into your mouth.

“Ah, that's better. Get them nice ‘n wet for me. You gonna let me fuck that attitude out of you, huh?” You whine around his fingers, but you're already soaking your panties, nodding before you even realise what you're agreeing to.

He reaches down to free you from your pants, tugging them as far down as he can be bothered before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and shoving two of them inside of you without any warning. He likes the way your face twists up at the burn, a grin spreading across his face.

The way he fingers you is almost clinical. He's not doing this for your pleasure - he just lazily scissors his fingers open until he deems that you're stretched enough for his cock. He doesn't bother undressing, just pulls his dick out after he unzips his cargos, pulling your hips up so you're face down, ass up.

“Fuck… surprised you're this tight… thought everyone in the office would've stuck their dicks in you by now.” He grunts as he bottoms out, immediately setting a brutal pace, his hips smacking your ass with every thrust.

“Fuck you, Kennedy.” You hiss, glaring at him over your shoulder. That look is hardly intimidating when he's pounding you into the mattress, and his hips stutter slightly as he barks out a laugh.

“I think you're mistaken, princess. See, I'm fucking you.” With that, he grabs the back of your head, pressing your face into the pillow to shut you up.

“God, that's better. Just take it, that's it. Good fucking slut.” He groans, his balls smacking your clit as he fucks into you with more vigour, low moans spilling from his lips as he uses you to chase his own pleasure.

He growls as he feels your pussy flutter around his cock, pulling out suddenly before yanking your head up by your hair. Your eyes water as your scalp stings, making you whimper softly.

“Ah-ah.” He tuts softly, his cock kicking against his stomach. He hates to admit it, but your cunt is one of the best he's had, and he's already close to cumming. “Not so fast. You gonna say please? I'll let you cum if you ask nicely.”

“You're such an… an asshole.” You say through gritted teeth, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as you press your palms on the mattress, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on your scalp from him tugging at your hair.

“That's not very nice, is it? Wanna try that again?” He asks you, his tone mockingly sweet. Makes you want to smack that stupid grin of his face. You don't get the chance, ‘cause he pulls even harder on your hair, your neck craning back painfully.

“Fuck… fuck, okay. Please, let me cum.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut. He presses your face back into the pillow, pushing down on it as he lines himself back up with your drippy hole, resuming his rough pace from before.

“Good girl. Look at you, capable of following orders. All it took was a little dick.” He coos, angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he pushes his hips forward, groaning at the way it makes you tighten around him.

You cum around his cock, your moans muffled as he keeps fucking into you. He clenches his jaw as your walls spasm with your orgasm, drawing his own out of him seconds later. He buries himself as deep as he can get, his tip knocking your cervix and he cums, heat filling you up and coating your insides.

He pulls out once his dick stops twitching, tucking himself back in his pants and zipping them up. He can hear the rustling of sheets as you pull your pants up, but he's staring at the ceiling. He's sweating, hair sticking to his forehead. At least it helped warm him up.

He can feel your gaze on him, and he frowns, tilting his head to the side to look at you. He raises a brow, his gaze flicking over your face. You really are too hot to be as annoying as you are.

“What? I'm not gonna cuddle you. It's warm now. Go to bed.” He glances at you one last time before turning his back to you, lying on his side and closing his eyes.

He's out like a light in a minute flat.

[undercoverpena]

iv. a date missed is a date lost

joel miller x f!reader | chapter four of honey stained hands

chapter summary: when you don't make it back from patrol, joel doesn't think for a second about not going to find you.

wordcount: 4.8k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. canon-level violence (desc of injuries and blood, but nothing insane). reader is a bad ass. injury/comfort — and from Joel. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). mentions of brief smut. this pair are together but won't admit it. joel is pissed and we love him for it. talks of readers grief (you lose someone from before but not many deets) an: for those who waited, thank you. to those who have just stumbled here: hello, you don't need to take off your shoes.

In time, daylight begins its gradual retreat, casting shorter shadows and making flashlights more of a necessity in the nighttime.

The blankets of white persist, marking winter’s icy caress across rooftops, the ground and anything else it can layer itself against.

At one point, fairy lights go up and then come back down. Briefly twinkling like scattered stars before eventually returning to their storage—time ticking on, days seeping into weeks, then months.

There comes a moment when the snow falls heavier, then thins, only to fall again in abundance, dousing the world as far as Joel's eyes can see.

But, the biggest change Joel notices, is that he begins to dream a lot less of you. No longer a distant fantasy but a tangible presence beside him, a reality woven into the fabric of his days.

He doesn’t need to think you up, you’re already there. Curled against him—facing him—hand under your cheek as you breathe in and out, soft and measured. Like this, you don't appear as a threat to the world, but he knows when awake what you’re capable of.

Just like he knows, deep down, this isn’t just neighbourly friends or nightcaps on the porch—or better yet, occasional sex to pass the time. Even if it all began as such.

It may have started as a carnal need, a teeth-sinking, nail-digging desperation. All akin to a time when he was a teenager, both of you waiting for the door to click shut behind Ellie—as she heads to a friend’s house—before he’s on you, pulling a giggle, a soft shriek of his name before you’re scraping and stripping him until he’s hardening in your hand, mouth or against your thigh.

Lately, it’s soft brushes of thumbs, mouth grazing over exposed skin and whimpers of his name; now, it’s a look—a quiet retreat, slow mornings and lazy nights. Your fingers find purpose on his cheek, eyes seeking his as he buries himself deep, making your mouth part in an O—just as he always does.

Too good for me, Miller. You’re too sweet for me, honey.

A joke. A tease that should be getting old, but isn’t.

Then, your things found themselves with his—or his with yours.

A jumper on his floor, his shirt hung on the handle of your bedroom; his guitar relocating as he does, sometimes against his bedroom wall, and sometimes against yours.

It became morning walks to the pen as he left for patrol and him meeting you at the gate, each time a little different. There are evenings of him arriving home to find you there, cooking—Ellie next to you, nodding, listening to instruction; then there are those where he sits in solitude, counting seconds until he thinks he can invite himself over.

There was even a progression to how the two of you left the bar, when things began to mean more. At first, you had just walked next to him. The next you brushed your fingers against his and the third he found you leaning into him, following him, not even pretending to go home and choosing to follow him inside his.

Truthfully, he’s not sure there’s a reason the two of you live in different houses—even if they’re side by side. Pretending there’s no concrete explanation, even if it lingers in the back of his mind. It rears its head when the night creaks in, rotting in a corner of his mind, a thought he should ponder over, pluck strings to until it makes sense—until he rationalises whether he can do it. Love, that is.

He’s ‘changed’, according to Tommy. Although, he’s not sure what that means. It’ll add to the pile, one he has to sort through but never does. Content with it, the things that weigh him down, deep down knowing he’s worthy of it—because his hands are stained even if they don’t appear as such.

Then, you’ll do something. Hand him a tin of shortbread, a smile—all wicked, and unwilling to be read—spreading and spreading. “It’s not a gift—it means nothing.”

“Whatever y’tell yourself.”

And then he’s confused all over again.

Whether it’s possible, whether he’s earned it—deserving of another chance. A twinge of pain when he remembers long hair against his neck in Boston, and the way her hands were as blotted as his.

You’re not her, but you’re smudged in your own way. Made of something entirely different, yet born from a similar pain he can see. You rose from the marshes, bones hardened thanks to the branches—grew strong from the soil and dirt. You’re one with nature in a way that made him wonder if the wind talked to you.

A thing he admires, the same way he does about a lot of things.

He supposes it would be easier, and simpler.

Not just loving you but having you here. You and your fire that warms all it touches, your kind disposition that you pretend not to have, but it rolls from you in plenty.

Less traipsing from home to home, less of him misplacing his things amongst your counters and sitting in your kitchen as you bake, only to take the treats with him next door, his fingers inside yours.

And, even if two of you are unwilling to put a name to the thing they are. We’re adults, Joel. We don’t need that, do we? It wouldn’t be terrible—a thing he rather likes. But, he likes it more that you don’t feel the need for it. Because in an ocean of complexity, you’re the thing that makes sense—the one thing he understands.

Doesn’t need to turn over much except what’re you thinking, what ticks behind your glazed eyes and whether the seconds you linger at the red toolbox are shortening or if he’s just becoming used to it—

“Joel, is that—oh my fuck…”

Your hands grasp at the VHS in his hand—fingers turning it over, that line appearing on your forehead that tells him you’re thinking, catching up to the actuality before it’s been told to you.

“Evenin’ to you too—”

“—What did you trade for this?”

Shrugging, he shoves his hand into his jeans—the ones that have grown tighter, barely able to fit the same hand that it used to, comfortably.

“Joel.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Y’think you wanna watch it with me?”

Licking your lips, you place it down on the counter, face blank, fucking unreadable. “What, like a date?”

Shrugging, he smiles. “Would that be terrible?”

“No, suppose it wouldn’t be.”

Nudging you, he likes how you paint him in a laugh. Something rich, warm.

“I’ve got patrol—but, can freshen up, come round after?” you suggest, hand on his chest. “You don’t sleep without me anyway.”

And he nods. Already mentally beginning to count down, watching you smile, ticking his jaw from side to side.

“I’d wipe that.”

“What?”

Licking your lips, you smirk. “The smile—people will think you’re soft.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Will if I begin spreading it.”

He just pinches you on the ass.

In the whole of his life, there have been only six times when Joel’s blood ran cold.

An expression he'd never understood until the first time it happened.

He had never expected the saying to mean a chill blasting down his spine. Or that sounds and scents would blur to nothing as his stomach twisted, just like he never anticipated the prickling sensation spreading across his skin like a thousand icy needles and rendering everything else inconsequential in comparison.

Tommy had been the first, all little, barely the same height as the kitchen counter. Nose bloody, swollen upper lip and a look on his face that made Joel want to snap arms and break skulls. He had settled for breaking the nose of the kid who had picked a fight with his baby brother.

The second was far worse—the first time Sarah first got ill. All little coughs, splutters—a temperature hotter than a stove, harsh cries and soft pleading whimpers that she couldn’t articulate or describe. A helplessness he hadn’t been able to explain or shake, not in the days after, or the weeks and months. In truth, Joel isn’t sure he ever slept quite the same.

The third was that night. When it dawned, when it hammered into him like a thousand needles and pierced every single part of who he was. When it broke him. Snapped him. Made him come apart and yet still exist—kneeling, the blood growing gummy and cold. Leaving her there, not taking his baby girl with him. A part of his heart, soul and reason left there in tall grass as he was forced to put one foot in front of the other.

The fourth had been when Tommy had left—when he’d realised it. When he saw the life he had and wondered what the fuck had happened. It bled horribly into the fifth. A dread as he saw the mark, the bite—the realisation she would be taken too: Tess. The new normal he’d made coming undone too, seams burst, emptiness spreading, rising and rising until he felt nothing but fire and ice simultaneously.

Ellie in that hospital had been the sixth. Joel hadn’t even known he could experience another. His heart was not made of iron like he tried to convince himself when he was younger. A tightness that didn’t resolve until he held her in his arms, till he kept her safe, until he blazed through the building ripping and tearing until her pulse was against his fingers.

He’d never expected to feel it a seventh.

Had thought his cards had all been dealt. A person could surely only have so many chances at having things to love, to care for—to have it all received back too.

There’s not a single sound when Tommy tells him. Informs him.

There’s just ringing. It douses everything else, his fingers rubbing against his thumb, his knees cracking before his head catches up to the fact he’s standing, fingers clenching and unclenching.

A fire rising, not smothered—not willing to be snuffed out by action and thinking. Not as he sees the words being said, confirmed.

Because deep down he’d known what was coming before they were muttered. Had felt them.

He’d been aware your plate was no longer warm, steam no longer rising, food all but congealing, cold—practically unedible. His eyes had been pinned to the clock on the wall, to the way the big hand nudged the smaller one on.

He hates that he hesitates.

That he remains, feet planted to the floorboards of his home. Eyes flicking to Ellie, to this person he swears to protect, to be there for, a second chance amongst a graveyard of mistakes—

“If you don’t go after her, I’ll never forgive you.”

Strong words. But then, she’s strong.

He’s seen it when she talks to you, all hushed whispers and confessed secrets. Sees it in her shoulders even when she curls into your side for a half-hug, your arm sliding around, head resting on the top of hers.

Because you mean something to Ellie too.

Which is why he can’t remain—shouldn’t. All unwilling to let anyone talk him into waiting, for a plan to be devised, to be drawn up and communicated.

Because you wouldn’t. There’d be nothing that’d keep you back, from going, from doing.

We’re doers, me and you, Miller. We don’t wait around for people to decide, we act.

Each step seems to echo that with his sorrow—with that knot inside of him. The corners of his eyes narrow as anger shakes through him, hammering and solidifying itself in some corner of him—weighing him down, making his boots dig more intently into the snow.

Because you were right—knuckles brushing over his cheek when the two of you shared a sliver of what happened to you that day. It had changed him, that birthday all those years ago. A brief glance at his watch, the one he still wears, never forgotten, never fixed. It compelled him to action, a force that surged within him, driving him forward, taking and taking until his knuckles burst through flesh—becoming it, a doer, a thing which took and survived.

Maybe that’s why this keeps happening.

Why good keeps being taken from him? It’s never thieved, never sneakily tugged from under his nose, but rather openly and brazenly taken. It’s this that forces his hands to clutch the reins tighter as the cool wind whips past him, tracing the tracks, envisioning the exact route you would have taken. Only coming to a stop when the snow becomes undisturbed, dismounting with a groan.

It makes a lump rise in his throat. One that doesn’t vanish when he begins tying the horse to a tree—patting her and stroking her. Because he’s too old for this. Too old for the caring, the chasing, the losing, and the fear. His palm against the animal, feeling the heartbeat inside, grounding him for just a moment.

But, even if he is, he’s not letting it, them or whatever take you.

Not as he pulls on gloves and tilts his neck until it cracks. Not as he thinks about the last time he was out here with you—a treat, you’d called it: we’ve swapped partners for the day. Don’t make me go alone, Miller. As if he ever would. A thing which earned him a different kind of gasp when your spine met a tree trunk, gloves fingers sliding through his hair, a laugh there on your lips—desperate to greet the air, if not for his lips smothering it away, silencing it.

He replays it.

Desperately wanting for nothing more than for that laugh, that smile—that snark and its bite. Joel wants bark under his nails and for it to be finding a home under yours too—a reminder, a badge of honour. He wants nature to attempt to cover up the sound of his skin slapping against yours; wants the wind to try and compete with the moans he extracts from your throat.

He wants.

He wants.

He wants.

Hand tightening around the gun, he swallows—vision whitening in the corner of his eyes as his jaw tightens.

A figurative storm cloud rising above him, grey and thundering, cracking as he hears you say don’t sleep without me anyway on repeat. Over and over. That smirk carved into him, scraped in with sheer gut and will.

Then, he replays Tommy. The words which are supposed to bring comfort, but just bring more rage. “She’s good, Joel” doesn’t bring you home, the same as “He’s good—one I know can pull his weight”, because is he as good as him? As good as you?

Is the man who is meant to have your back as much of a monster as him—as the two of you?

He learns in half a mile that he wasn’t. An answer left, presented—all lit up in scarlet. Neck snapped. Anger let loose on the man who had smiled at him around and about. Gone. Left to decompose and erode.

Joel wonders what it says about him that he feels nothing when he removes the weapons from the man’s belt. Taking what he can before leaving, and continuing on.

At each step, he hopes you’re as good as he thinks you are. Each breath heaved from Joel’s chest he hoped you were still beating, it hanging in the frigid air in front of him, a visible reminder of the feeling he had forgotten about—allowed himself to forget—fear.

How it isn't just about dread, but rather the erosion of faith—a corrosion of belief, leaving him almost gasping for air. There’s a curse there too, simmering on his tongue, desperate to be released and breathed into the oncoming night as he ties another thread around an extended branch. Doing so every so many steps, a guide, a trail for someone else to follow—just in case, forever just in fucking case.

His arm bumps into a tree he passes, one adorned with delicate frost, stood like a sentinel, like the rest around it. Its branches reach out in frozen pleas to the heavens above as snowflakes descend from his bump, a thing falling in a way not too dissimilar to the unrest inside of him, stirring and swirling and all but fucking churning.

Jaw gritted, he swallows. Readying himself to move, to force himself on when he sees it, spots it. The thing you’d once showed him all intentionally.

From the outside, the cabin looks like it usually does.

Worn, broken—far less a structure and more a ruin. But, he knows without opening the door it’s hiding things, concealing unfamiliars and protecting traitors. He can tell.

And it is when he steps inside. Just none of them are breathing.

A full house of horrors. A museum of a fight that hadn’t gone the way, the three he finds in the larger room, would have wanted. One slumped against the wall, a head wound seeping and congealing. The other two lie askew, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be. There's a quiet chaos to the scene, a silent testament to a struggle fought with everything at stake.

He checks them all the same, dispatching, covering his back—stepping carefully over loose floorboard and limbs, eyes scanning, all desperately seeking.

Deep down, he’s relieved at the sight of the fallen attackers. A grim confirmation you did not go down without a fight. But another part, one that has been growing with each passing second, is filled with dread, more so as he moves further into the cabin, each step heavier than the last.

The air is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. A scent he's all too familiar with. Following, only to find the next room there’s nothing. Not a thing. Nothing but the door—the one you’d mumbled about being difficult to open—is banging in the breeze. A thud, over and over, like the cabin has a heartbeat that wishes to ring out, and out, and out.

That’s when he finds your note. The singular reason he can hold out hope you’re still alive. Chicken-scratch-proof into pages of a book, your knife stamped as a signature to the backdoor:

compromised, do not look fo—

Joel has never been much of a listener.

Not as he charges outside, not as he sweeps around the new ground with his weapon at the ready. He barely has to look far, before he spots something—a thing out of the ordinary in a clump out at the back.

You. Joel finds you.

You are all but surrounded by clumped white and cherry red, sprawled out on the ground, spots of dark beneath you—a gash on your forehead, blood smeared across your face. The contrast is so rich that it could almost be described as poetic. Somewhat romantic, he supposed. That’s if the poets lingered on the snowflakes hanging from your lashes, instead of the gash to your forehead and the swelling forming along your neck.

But you're breathing. Barely.

His teeth bite at the tips of his gloves, slapping fingers to your pulse, finding it, weak but there, before brushing his knuckles and finding cold skin making him hiss.

You’re smart. A reckoning, a feral monstrous thing that is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t seen you take down a soul twice your size.

Joel liked to tell himself he kept you around for that reason—the fire, the poison woven into your veins that injects into whoever is foolish enough to cross you. But Joel keeps you around for the person you accidentally show him—the one that makes him feel human, less of a beast and someone who has taken, taken, taken.

It’s your grit, your cunning nature, which is why it’s taken him so long to find you. His chest tightened when he was greeted by the scent of iron, all thick—collecting in rooms where you’d fought tooth and nail.

Now, he was standing in the cold piles carved by knees and elbows, your slumped frame, curled as close together—defeated, likely having been convinced you’d never be found before the cold tried to take you as its victim.

But, you’re no victim. No woman who wishes to repent for how you’ve survived or the things you’ve done to breathe easier.

It’s why Joel lifts you, pulls you close—face curling into his neck from the position you fall into, as he’s chilled to the bone by your cold.

“If y’can hear me, hold on.”

He adjusts, even as his back winces—something pinching, hurting, throbbing in the position he’s in on the snow. Hating his age about as much as he hates his bones.

That’s when he whispers your name. Does so like it’s a secret, a thing the forest and the things inside of it aren’t privileged to hear. A thing entrusted to him that he wishes no one else to hear or ever know.

“M’here.”

It’s a mumble. A murmur. The softness barely escapes through clenched, almost chattering teeth—but then your flashes flutter, coated in flakes that shimmy down to your cheek as you attempt to open them.

“Eyes on me—there you are.”

“Stop being c-cute.”

Grimacing, he watches you try to smile—weak, it barely reaching your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “Don’t think anyone's ever called me cute, honey.”’

“Never t-thought someone be storm-m-ing through a forest for me—first time for…”

Looking down, he sees your lashes fluttering, eyes struggling to stay open. Lips still parted around the next word that had yet to fall.

Tapping your cheek, he feels how cold you are. Even here. In nothing but warmth and safety. And he hates that he has to ignore how concerning that is. How hard it is to swallow that you are.

“Don’t stop talkin’ to me now. Might like the silence.”

He feels you laugh. Vibrating against him. More a hiccup than a real laugh, but it’s something.

“I fought—”

“Know you did.”

Nodding, you swallow, cough spluttering in the back of your throat.

"Y' did... y' did real good," he assures, voice thick, chest aching at the sight of you—so strong, yet looking so small and vulnerable against him.

"Did... did I get them?"

Your words are slurred, consciousness fleeting—tiredness trying to sneak you away from him.

"All of 'em," he assures, his grip tightening around you, "Every last one."

He can't be sure if you hear him, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

But he keeps talking, filling the silence with a low, steady stream of words. Comforting nothings, promises of safety, of warmth, of a congealed meal and the VHS. Even as your grip on his hand slackens, your breaths become more shallow, more sporadic. Even when he feels a cold dread creep into his heart, he pushes it away, and focuses on you—on keeping you with him.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, adjusting you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you groan against him when he lifts you with him, "Just a little walk, alright."

The snow crunches under his boots as he carries you back up the path he came, leaving a trail behind. Even in finding you, he knows victory tastes bitter on his tongue—a price too high to pay.

"Y'need t’make it, can’t watch that movie alone."

You snort. It is very much there, before it’s buried—engulfed under a whine of pain as you stand up fully.

Can’t. It’s one word, but it’s louder than all the others you’ve spoken, shared—and given. So, he wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you, taking as much of your weight as he can.

Joel holds you, clutches you against him—a brief flowering of memories from doing something so similar for Ellie. A thought which brings fresh anger, a bitterness to his tongue. Holding tighter because of it, grips you closer—as though his life depends on it.

Because in a way, it does—a part of him acknowledging that now.

More so as you groan, as you plead to stop in harsh whispers as you grip him weakly, as your foot flops occasionally, legs tired, aching.

It’s not until he’s managed to bring you inside, do you murmur again. Nothing full, nothing understood until he’s removed his coat and wrapped you in it, helped lean you against a wall do you say anything more than a groan.

“Tired.”

Hands encased in his, Joel warms them, as the moon bleeds tendrils in through slats and the half-made window. “I know. C'mon, stay with me.”

Your eyes flutter open, glazed and barely focusing on him. "I'm...trying," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Good," he murmurs, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "That's all I need. Just...keep trying."

His head turns, looking through the window, seeing the placement of the moon, and wondering if it’ll be morning before someone comes—before someone follows and helps. Just mumbling about anything, joking it’s the most he’s talked, doing so in a voice that mocks your own, doing something, anything to try and keep you awake—keep you warm.

"I should've been there. I should've..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.

The regret, the guilt, it's all there in his voice, in his eyes. And you squeeze his hand feebly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Not...not your fault, Joel."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I know. I just...I wish I could've..."

“He made it. This place,” you begin, voice low, barely a breath.

Your eyes focused on some floorboard, not leaving, unwilling to lift to him, even as his head tilts.

“Came out all the time with that red f-fucking toolbox,” you continue, swallowing, wincing as you use your shoulder to itch your cheek.

“He was just a neighbour, a person I knew the first name of. Then he was a-all I had, a friend, then family—a b-brother. I’d… I’d never… and then he was just… gone. Survived all those years, survived all of that, only for s-sleep to take him as soon as we got here.”

Your eyes lift, haunted by sorrow, by exhaustion and something so much more.

And he has no words—not enough for this, none enough to make any of this make sense or feel better.

“I saw him. I—I know he’s gone, know it wasn’t real, but I just closed my eyes, just so I could see him again. And then…”

Your words trail off, a choked sob taking their place as you curl into yourself.

A sound so full of brokenness it makes something inside of him shatter a little, more so when Joel feels you pull your hands free, all rough and worn, clutching around yourself, at the material of his coat—gripping so tight it’s almost as if you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“You think he’d be mad that you saved me—that I’m g-glad you saved me?”

Swallowing, he cups your cheek with his palm. “I think if he’s anything like you, he’d be glad you fought.”

Nodding, you smile, the base of your palm wiping your tears as your lip wobbles. “Can y-you hold me?”

Nodding, he shuffles, and buries a groan in his throat as he manoeuvres a man his age shouldn’t, until he can, until he is. Having you as close as you’ll humanly fucking let him.

Which is how you’re found—a cavalry of those from Jackson, a mixture of surprise and relief etched into their faces when they land on the two of you.

When he suspects they land their eyes on you, and realise, like he did, that you’re the owner of the destruction in the room next to you all.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

AN: next chapter will be quicker i promise, but no strict deadline on when as posting / stepping back into this was a lot.

[yanderenightmare]

who's the worst bnha yandere? in your opinion

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, f!reader, Shiggy being gross

fem reader

It’s easily Tomura.

Tomura because he doesn’t care about the most basic of human needs. 

Forgets to feed you. And when he does – it’s always some half-eaten burger, sub or burrito. He doesn’t give two shit if you’re vegan or vegetarian. Shit – he doesn’t even care if you’re allergic. If you don’t want it, you can starve.

Doesn’t give you clothes. He rarely bothers getting himself new clothes, do you think he’s gonna do you any better? No. Wear his dandruff-riddled, old-sweat-seeped hoodie – or wear nothing.

Something else you miss is proper housing – even if it’s just a room with a bed and a toilet. You’ve learned that even that is too much to ask for.

You never stay in the same place for long – needing to switch bases regularly in order to remain low. Never anything he’ll have to pay for, of course – a pick of the litter abandoned office buildings, hotels, and empty homes. 

If you’re lucky enough to find a place with running water, you stay longer. If not, you’ll have to make do for a couple of days – worst case was a little over a week. You still shudder thinking about it. 

He’ll keep you in any room he can lock from the outside – only sometimes blessing you with an actual mattress and not some old moldy sofa or a thin blanket on cold floors.

One time, you stayed in some old mansion one of the league members had found. You suspect they killed whoever lived there before – seeing as the entire house was properly furnished and clean when you all infested the place. 

Not that you got to explore much – Tomura kept you locked in the master bedroom on the third floor – the one where you most definitely would have broken both legs if you tried escaping through the window.

It had been one of the nicer places. One with working hot water and clothes for you to change into – albeit shamefully, sending prayer and thanks to the owner who was no doubt dead and rotting. You were even able to find a stockpile of fresh towels and linens you changed after a week had gone by.

But as the weeks turned to more weeks, they’d all run out – and you began hoping you’d move on to the next place soon. Even with the risk of it being someplace cold and dusty, it would still be a fresher slate.

The nice mansion had gone bad after a month or so – you’d lost track of time. 

Thankfully, you’d been able to air out the dank smell of armpit, ass, and feet – and were allowed to take a shower whenever you weren’t handcuffed to the bed – often able to lure Tomura to join you if only for the sake of washing the stench of decay, dandruff and dickcheese off him. 

But even so, Tomura isn't the most hygienic type. Managing keeping him halfway decent was troubling enough. 

It’s way tougher to keep the room tidy with Tomura’s ill habits of keeping half-eaten food lying around – empty cup noodles and other street junk, beer bottles, and sour energy drinks – along with bloody piles of worn-out clothes, dirty holey underwear, and soggy condoms.

You were driven to the point of disgust that you’d asked him whether he could do you the simple favor of finding and bringing you the house cleaning supplies so you could wash the place yourself.

Oh… how funny he’d found that little comment... 

“Too filthy in ‘ere for yah, is it? Too gross for the pretty princess?”

It hadn’t been the first time he’d made you lick the floor. Face down, ass up – with his bare foot placed heavy and clammy against your teary cheek – two of his fingers stuffing your cunt, and the other two inside your ass – while he sits at the edge of the bed, spitefully stroking his hard dick to the degrading view.

“Tch – such a filthy bitch, and you complain about the scenery?” He sneers – pumping both your holes. “Didn’t know I was fuckin’ such a spoiled cunt.”

You cry at the crass stretch his digits make – but you know better than to fight him when he’s pissed. You only regret forgetting how it’s never been a good idea for you to do much of anything other than nod your head and smile pliantly – open your mouth wide for his tongue, spit, cock, and cum or otherwise keep it shut.

Per request, you keep it open wide, tongue out on the hardwood floor – tasting the grouts of lint and dirt and God knows what – stale and salty on your tastebuds. Or maybe it was the tears gushing from your eyes – soaking your face where you sobbed.

“Tch – shut up.” A hand replaces the foot on your face – dragging you up with a fist in your hair. Pulling his fingers from your holes with a sloppy shlick – before promptly pushing all four digits inside your mouth. “If you wanna clean somethin’ – you can start with this slutty mess.”

You gag at the threat as he shoves all but his thumb down your throat – wiping off your slick, then giving your face a mean slap with the same, now spit-coated, hand – before pulling you up from the floor by your hair and ushering you onto his lap to straddle him.

He wipes the rest of your drool off on his erect cock – standing proudly with a thick flow of creamy pre leaking from his slit.

He doesn’t waste much time before lining up with your puffy pussy-lipped hole and making you sink down on him.

You croak at him going in raw – always feeling extra violated without the thin rubber protecting you from catching his germs as he pushes all his veiny girth inside you until giving your womb a cummy kiss. 

“What’s the problem, slut? Don’t like riding dirty dick?” He huffs, starting to rut against you in no clean tempo. He snickers at your grimace, still holding your hair in a tight pull as he angles your face to his to kiss your tight-lined lips – feeling you cringe even more. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you clean it after I fill this and the other hole up with filth.”

You whimper at the dark promise – and he wipes his tongue across your sorry expression from chin to temple.

“I’ll do you up nice and nasty – so you won’t feel so out of place anymore~”

[lonelystarrs]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨.

𝑇𝑜𝑗𝑖 𝐹𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑜 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

You made his toes curl, his eyes cross and his heart thump, you were his bratty sweetheart, his second chance —it’s as simple as that really.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • fluff • smut smut smut • Toji brain rot • Toji bit yandere / toxic but how is that surprising • rough & soft Toji •

Toji who likes cupping his large hand under your chin and throat so he can feel the bulge of his dick as he slides it down. Spit dripping down your chin and lacing through his fingers until it slides down his wrist. Tilting your head up ever so slightly so he can watch little hearts form in your eyes.

“Fuck girl, you take it so well.”

He could feel your tongue against his balls, just giving him that little something extra because you were a sucker for spoiling him.

He knew you liked the view from here, his six pack, huge man titties and has hair falling forward to frame his face, those gorgeous green eyes almost glowing as they looked down at you.

That shit eating smirk on his face, that scar ever so noticeable.

“Y’not even gaggin’ -fuck, throats tight though think it’s got some competition with that pussy huh?”

His hips gave a test thrust, letting his dick flex down your throat to see if you’d gag, it made the man groan when he could feel his own cock flexing through the bulge in your throat. His green eyes rolling back into their sockets when he felt his cock sliding, the bulge retreating and running along his fingers.

But what made his eyes actually cross? When you pulled back and pushed him onto the sofa that was behind his legs, cock slapping against his stomach and he landed with a chuckled umph.

Joking about you being a brat, with a smirk on his face as you put yourself between his thighs, elbows resting on them. taking both hands around his length and wrapping your lips around his thick head, hollowing your cheeks and pressing your tongue to the underside of his cock head.

Rotating your hands in different directions and bobbing your mouth on his cock, solely focusing your tongue and cheeks on his bellend —and it was too much.

Never in his life had he found someone that sucked dick like you, that handled him like you had. You gave him a run for his fucking money and you made love hearts appear in his damn eyes.

Toji’s mouth hung ajar, his toes curling against the living room carpet, his eyes almost crossing as they started to almost zone out past you whilst his hips rose from the sofa in automatic, little bucks. Lacing his fingers behind your head and watching you with some dumb ass expression.

Toji who makes you some tea after with honey after to help with a sore throat caused by his dick. ♡

Toji who puts you in a choke hold when he’s fucking you from behind, huge biceps bulging against your neck practically cutting off your air supply.

Keeping you in a standing prone bone position as he presses you against the huge glass windows of the pent house. Ass arched back into him, your cheeks red from the result of his vile thrusting but he can’t help it, the look of your ass rippling each time and the sound of it against his stomach makes him near damn feral.

“Whole city can see you getting fucked like a slut, shit -you like that huh? Cunts clenching me.”

Toji who insisted this was just incredible sex, but hadn’t slept with anyone else in eight months since he first fucked you.

Toji who deals with any guy who tries to get close to you.

Toji who has access to your phone through his, having found someone to hack it so he can see who you’re texting… he insisted it was just sex right? He never asked you to stop seeing anyone because that would admit he wanted you to himself. Cause he’s piss scared of committing, he can’t accept love or acceptance due to his past trauma.

Toji who actively ruins any date you get asked on — he finds out the time and place, through your phone conversations, gets there before you and scares the guys away before you arrive.

Toji who is there to comfort you after being stood up again because he texts at just the right time, sliding in with a subtle check up and invites himself to see you… he cheers you up with some drinks, some touches all before stumbling into the house and hiking up that pretty dress you wore for the date, for that other guy.

Toji who gets off on the fact you started giving up on dating, because it just wasn’t working out.

Toji who kinda ends up feeling bad when he sees that you start thinking something is wrong with you, that you’re undateable.

Toji who starts seeing you different when you begin to hang around him more and he invites himself over, leaving things in your house, like his shirts and a toothbrush. how he likes your cooking, your night & morning routine.

Toji who wakes up with you one morning, the sunlight coming through the blinds. Green eyes tracing their gaze over your plump lips, the sheet riding just low enough to see some side boob, your subtle breathing and his heart really thumps for the first time for you in the glow of morning light. Crisp white sheets that always smelt so fresh, so you.

Toji who he can’t help but lean over and graze his lips to yours, eyes watching to see a reaction from you.

Toji who shifts himself to lay on top of you to encourage you to wake up, pressing kisses to your cheek before trailing down to your neck. Pressing his morning hard on to your bare cunt, still wet with slick and cum that he filled you with not seven hours ago.

Toji who hums in response when you groan his name, stirring from sleep, threading your fingers through his hair lazily before wrapping your arms around his head cuddling into him as he leaves wet kisses on your neck. Rotating his hips so the head of his dick rubbed over your clit, your groggy moan as you hips reacted back to encourage him. His heart throbbing like his cock as he starts to feel that emotion for you fire through his veins.

Toji who angles himself to slide in slowly, both moaning at that first stretch to accommodate him, his hot breath and moan vibrating against your neck. Hearing his muffled ‘fuuu’ck,’ still deep with recently waking from sleep.

Toji whose hands that skim up your body to place his elbows either side of your head, his thrusting unusually slow and controlled, green eyes drinking in every expression you made. His stomach pressed against yours, forehead resting to you as he actively made love to you for the first time.

Toji who let himself go, burying his face into your neck, wrapping his huge arms around your waist so he could fuck up into you. Coaxing you with words of praise to cum around his dick saying you were his girl, his bratty sweetheart.

Toji who got into a desperate state fucking you that he moans out a muffled ‘I love ya,’ with sloppy thrusts as he cums, hips jolting into yours as he releases trying to keep his dick thrusting at the same time but sensitive from over stim.

Toji who smirks into your neck when he hears you breathlessly say “finally, it took you long enough to realise and bloody say it.”

Toji who lifts himself, eyebrow arched looking down at you.

“What, you ain’t got summit to say back?”

“I need to hear you say it a few more times, you ruined five dates thinking I wouldn’t find out, so let’s say four more times with you meaning it and I’ll think about it.”

Toji who frowns when you winked at him, wondering how you knew he’d been ruining the dates, wiggling your hips to bring him back to you as he still cock warmed in you.

“I’ll convince you with my cock long before that happens sweetheart, you forget how I get you beggin’ n’cryin?” Bucking his hips a little as if to make a point, feeling cum drool down his balls at this point.

“T-Toji stop I can’t take anymore, you’re so big.” He mocked in some girlish voice, with some sarcastic expression making you smirk up at him knowing he was slightly irritated. As fair as you were concerned Toji had something to prove, females swooned over him and you were no fool to his past behaviour.

“Challenge accepted Toji Fushiguro, just don’t forget whose eyes I can make cross when I suck dick.”

“You fucking brat,” a large hand wrapped around your throat, cock flexing in your pussy as he half assed glared down at you.

“Yeah, but you looooooveee me~!”

“Yeah? hope you remember that sweetheart ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuck you like I do.”

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[writers-potion]

Tips For Creating Creepy Locations

Places can be a source of inspiration for stories. Every story needs a backdrop, and for dark fiction/horror stories, location is important for building tension and eerie atmosphere.

Select the Setting

Places that creep you out

Weird places. A diamonds mine, a dinosaur museum, a cruise ship, a children's petting zoo.

Supposedly safe places. A child's nursery, a family kitchen, a school playground.

Isolated places. A rowing boat on a lake, a deserted farmhouse, etc.

Enclosed places.

Look For Inspiring Pictures

A town, street, or even a large mansion can be difficult to map out just in your head. I use Pinterest to search and save pictures of locations I find helpful :)

Describe the Setting

Describe a small visual detail that is seemingly harmless, but has dark implications/foreshadowing effects

- weeds poked through the cracks in the broken paving-slabs. - the pavement was slippery with rain and rotten leaves. - the tiles were grime-streaked and flecked with mold. - below the rick velvet curtain, the wallpaper peeled.

Mention several smells.

- the air smelled of nicotine and stale beer. - the room smelled of pizza and unwashed socks. - the fresh scents of salt and seaweed mingled with the odour of rotting fish. - the smell of bleach warred with the odors of vomit and piss.

Sounds serve to increase suspense, so use a mix of ominous sounds for tension.

- a car door slammed, and a motor whined. - an owl hooted in the distance. - ceiling fans whirred, cutlery clanked, and the espresso-maker hissed with steam.

The source and quality of light adds atmosphere. It also determines the level of darkness your MC is acting in.

- two beams of white light pierced the darkness. - a silver of sunlight peaked through the crack between the curtains. - houses gleamed white in the late afternoon sun. - shafts of torchlight struggled through the vicious darkness.

Describe how temperature affects the characters.

- relentless chills gnawed through the thin layer of her jacket. - gusts of icy wind drove sleet into my face. - she tried to rub warmth back into her stiff fingers.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

💎For early access to my content,  become a Writing Wizard 

[pedge-page]

Joel Miller x F!Reader - Piss Kink #4

if you're feeling bold, can be read with more Piss kink #1, #2, #3, or alone.

Summary: Joel entices you home with a uniquely fun hommade toy that he's been edging himself with.

Warnings: pisskink! , pill-filled condom, sending nudes ish, nipple play, sub!Joel returns!, male masturbation, mirror masturbation, assisted masturbation, overstimulation, degrading lanauge towards Joel, this one is all about Joel

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Work fucking sucks when you’re horny as shit.

While you rot away at a desk 5 days a week, from 9-5 with limited days off, you get a bit envious of Joel’s flexible schedule where he can pick his own contracts, his own projects, and work his own hours at his own fee.

Must be nice to be a solid brick wall of meat.

And he doesn’t make it any better. Having your phone buzz off at your desk literally every 5 seconds with pictures of his scruffy head waking up at 9:57am, his homemade sausage links and pancakes, his feet propped up on the coffee table while sipping away your coffee in your mug that you forgot because you were running late!

You: Fuck off, lazy ass

Joel: come home and I’ll fuck your ass all day :P

You: do you have any real plans today other than being a little shit?

There’s 15 minutes of silence from his end. Enough that you’re pretty far into a project you couldn’t get off the ground, until there’s a new chime vibrating from your phone. 

Joel: video attachment

You bite your lips, hovering over the file icon. This could be just another “Joel enjoying his day off” …

or a “Joel enjoying his day off.”

Not risking it, you run to the bathroom and lock yourself in the stall.

The video plays, and you can make out Joel’s big fat blurry fingers blocking half the camera as he angles the phone on the sink vanity, facing himself in the mirror focus sense. He backs away, and unzips his jeans. His cock is only half hard, but that doesn’t deter him from pumping it lazily in his hand, digging in the drawer off camera looking for something.

It’s not until he’s ripping off a condom with his teeth that you’re very intrigued. 

“Got a present for ya when you come home,” he smirks into the camera.

He rolls the plastic over his much harder cock now, pulling it tight all the way to the base, stretching it over his thick length.

Joel’s not one to use condoms, so this is—new.

He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling as he pumps his dick with short jerks. His thumb teases over the clear covered tip. there’s some sweet little noises you know you’re missing because the mic doesn’t pick it up, but by the way his brows furrow, his lips part with eyes closed, you know he’s feeling dirty and good.

He lets out a strong groan, and the condom starts inflating quickly as he relives his urine. “FUck—fuck , shit, it’s filling up fast.”

You hold in a gasp because fuck yeah he’s right. The condom expands rapidly as yellow liquid quickly pools in the empty nub at the top before over coming the underside.

“Mmm—ah—ah-ahh-yeahfuck baby—its’ warm. Warm like you,” he grunts, smiling. He tilts his head back and moans, thrusting his hips a bit more like he wants to fuck it. 

He breathes shallowly when it’s over. The condom now tightly packed with warm golden piss around his aching length like a thick balloon, not much larger than a short zucchini but still impressively bulging.

He jerks over himself a little bit, watching the liquid bounce with such inertia it takes a moment to even out. It should be disgusting, really, watching him play with himself with his own piss like a pocket pussy, were it not for the tight clench of your thighs and throb between your legs.

“Reminds me of ya tummy when I filled ya full of it the other day.”

He starts to pull his jeans back up, careful to tuck the full package into his crock area before zipping it up cautiously. Two little hops and everything falls into place. He groans as he manages the button over his waist.

He pats his new bulge before winking into the camera and the video ends.

You don’t even realize you were biting your finger nails while sitting on the toilet seat in the stall. Your skirt bunches up over your legs as you spread them. Fuck, you can’t touch yourself at work!

Just as you’re about to write an extremely lengthly curse off to Joel, another image attachment comes in:

Joel lying on the couch with the camera facing down towards his feet, the evident bulge still packed tight in his head with his girth hand gripping at it through his jeans.

Joel: Warm n tight, just like your sweet little cunt :) 

Another video comes in, and there’s barely any intuition in you left to ignore it as you’re hitting play so quickly.

He’s positioned the phone in front of him again at the couch, folding laundry causally with his legs spread wide. The bulge in his pants, however, is much bigger. Each uncomfortable  shift only elicits a whimper from him, grinding into his palm to adjust the position but only turning him on more. He leans back and unbuttons the pants. The zipper practically falls away on its own to give room to the massive piss filled condom, shaped like a droopy sack, it’s been desperately trying to hold together.

He sighs in relief, jiggling the balloon. It’s now the length of a fat cucumber, sagging to the cushion from the weight. 

“Shit. This is a fuckin’ strong ass condom, baby. Feels like I’m bout to burst everywhere.”

He continues to smack it, jerk it, play with it like a silicon boob and not like it’s his own urine filling a condom and drawing his poor dick, still hard as a rock and an angry shade of red infused with the yellow tint of the sloshing liquid. His leg bounces, both of you hypnotized at the way the latex ripple with each wave.

“Can’t wait for you to come home and see how big it’s gonna get in your hand.” He cups his balls underneath while fisting his warm and wet pocket pussy. It jiggles obscenely in his hand, his hips thrusting into it until his tummy tense and he stills. You can just barely see the little air bubble at the top get smaller as he relieves himself more. His eyes roll back, feeling the warmth surround his meat like living inside your cunt. 

The video ends, and a second image is waiting for you:

Joel standing with his top belt button undone but the zipper struggling to stay up, holding his fat bulge that now has taken over to drooping down his thighs.

Joel: Fucking Christ baby, you see how fucking tight this is? 

You don’t open the last video attachment, as you’re already packing your computer away and telling your manager you’re not feeling well, zipping to your car and speeding home.

-

Joel’s cock is in a constant state of pain and pleasure all day. For one, his piss is keeping everything so fucking warm, unlike anything he’s felt regularly wrapped around his cock, stuffed in his pants. But on the other hand, his dick has been trapped inside a warm wet fluid substance for over two hours non stop hard, and he’s ready to cum geysers.

He considers whether waiting all day for you to come home for his “present” is going to be worth it when he hears keys being entered into the front entrance.

He’s standing right there the moment you open the door. He can tell you rushed with the state of your wrinkled shirt half untucked, messy hair and even more evident—the ferocious look in your eyes. 

You wrap your arms around him and hug him close. He lets out a tiny sigh, feeling your middle press against his crotch tightly. To your delight, it’s still there, all packed tight and warm, crammed so stiffly it could burst with any more pressure. Your hand roughly grabs at the squishy bulge in his jeans and Joel stutters a gasp, then a little moan with his eyes closed in bliss. You can just barely hear the quiet rush of liquid filling into the condom even more.

“Did you just piss some more?” You ask, your hand rubbings soothing circles over the bulge.

He nods, lips parted sinfully with dazed eyes now that you’re here and in charge.

“You’re a naughty boy, sending that shit at work. Making me come home early to take care of this,” you whisper sensually in your honey silk voice that has his veins shivering from excitement and trouble. 

“Nnmgg—mmmm, I wanted you here. And you want its too,” he snickers.

You tug the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a harsh kiss. He groans into your month, pulling you closer and grinding himself into your secure body like a horny teen. His body melts in to your touch, more needy to have you here than you were to have him.

Your tongue holds his hostage while you busy your fingers and unbutton his jeans. The piss filled condom spills out of there like it was desperate to breathe. 

Joel lets out a pathetic sigh of relief. You continue to palm him while he pants into your mouth, all the pent of pressure finally having room to escape, but still trapping his thick cock. It’s fucking heavy, the weight of his hot urine filling the bag over and over again, latex stretched so tight. “It’s.. s-so heavy—bout to burst,” he rasps, eyes shut into your shoulder as you hold it for him. 

You smirk against his lips, continuing your torture in your hand while he shivers.

You reach below the moist cucumber sack and roll his balls in your hand, tugging gently to get him to follow you.

He obeys beautifully. Leaping after you as you massage him, trailing so close that he’s wafting your hair product, twitching in your palm.

“Sit,” you command, pointing to the floor in the bedroom, directly in front of your floor length mirror.

He sinks to the group, staring at his reflection. So pretty and small beneath you. You slide right behind him, hands slowly tracing along his inner thighs, making him involuntarily man spread. 

You grasp the urine condom and start tugging, jerking it in your hand as you pinch his nipples under his shirt with your free hand. 

“You look like a fucking pervert and a whore.”

He whimpers and melts into your touch. Tense in his cock and chest but relaxed everywhere else. Despite the mass of the man in front of you, practically blocking your view of his beautiful twitching body, you perch over his arm to watch. 

His eyes keep drifting back, pleasure consuming him after edging all day. But he keeps snapping forward to look at how you’re tearing him apart.

“Only fucking disgusting boys do this type of shit, Joel. Is that what you are?”

He nods vigorously, hips cantering forward.

The sloshing of liquid grows louder as you pump over the slimy sack faster. His shirt rides up, his soft belly flexing with each painful breath he forces going in and out. 

“Can you fill this up some more? While I’l jerking you off? Don’t cum yet. Want more of your foul liquid to fill this thing. It’s so fucking big, Joel. see how much we can pack into here before it explodes!” You laugh.

He grits his teeth, and you still your movement. With a few assisted tugs wrapped around your own hand, he’s moaning out pornographically, and you can see through the latex the extra stream of gold forced out of the tip of his dick and expanding the hot condom. It’s big enough now that you need Joel to help wrap his other hand around it. The two of you jacking him off together.

“Such a fucking good boy, Miller. My piss hungry boy.”

If you weren’t so fucking turned on by your whimpering mess of a boyfriend you’d be cringing so hard. But Joel just somehow always manages to bring that side out of you.

“Arrgghhhhh--aahhh—oh—ohh—ohf—oh fuck! Fuck it baby, yeah—YEAH—unfff I’m—I’m gonna—“ he’s blabbering incoherently, nodding and shaking his head, overstimulated and yet so close to getting what his whole body is begging for. The condom bounces along as the two of you fall out of rhythm, smashing against his pelvis and balls, his tip stretching across the clear seal before being drowned in a vacuum of piss. 

You accidentally pinch the condom as you pull it close to him again. Coupled with being filled to its limit, the entire thing snaps in a giant explosion of the piss damn breaking, ursting all over Joel’s torso and thighs and the floor.

The impact of it all has his hips thrusting forward, his jaw dropping open in a surprised gasp when he cums into the free air—ropes of it shooting so far onto the mirror. You don’t stop, despite the wet mess all over him and tattered condom shred still clinging between your digits, jerking his wet cock to completion and tilting his hips up so that his creamy spend shoots on his pouty lower lip.

He licks away the salty tang of his orgasm,  breathing down from his high. You  both observe him in the mirror: clothes drenched from chest to knee, splatters of of his spend adorning him and the mirror like overly-excited icing on a tres-leches soaked cake. 

He’s shaking from the aftershock. So overly whipped and leaning further back against you for support. You hold his cock, now finally able to breathe, as you kiss along his jaw and neck. “You’re so gross, I fucking love it,” you tease, nipping at his ear.

He smiles with you, sighing up to the ceiling with blissful sedation. 

He stays pliant in your arms, head resting against your breasts. It’s quiet, minus the love sucks you’re dressing all over his face with your lipstick.

He opens his eyes. “How about a hug after such a loooooong day at work, baby?”

You stop kissing him and lean away, shaking your head. 

“No? Are you sure? I think you need it,” he hums, a devious look in his eyes as he starts to turn on you. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You warn. You immediately scramble to your feet and try to run out the door, but Joel’s caught up in no time, bear hugging you from behind.

“Awwwww, isn’t this soooo nice, baby?”

“Gross, gross, gross!” You laugh, wiggling unsuccessfully as you feel his urine seeping from his clothes to your beautiful white blouse and ironed skirt. You shiver at the warm, disgusting feeling of it all.

“Fucking nasty perverted piss boy.”

He giggles into your hair as you admin defeat, swaying with him in a tight embrace.

“With my fucking nasty perverted piss girl.”

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