#his eyes are beautiful and his lashes and everything

[em1i2a3]

Under Cover of Darkness

Pairing: Soft!Void/Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry x Mutant!Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You are facing an array of questions about what happened between you and The Void from the rest of the team. (Continuation of The Darkside (PT1), Only Human (PT2) )

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Fluff, Smut, Reminder Reader has the ability of Power Negation (rendering them unable to be Voided or sent into a shame room) and Telekinesis, Supernatural Elements (of course cause The Void being in love is in here lol),

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (y’all I’m not the sex police or anything but…wrap it up lol), The Void is still super clingy and touch starved in this, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Sensual Touching/Intimacy, Praising/Dirty Talk

Author’s Note: I loved writing this final part so much, so scandalous lol. Absolutely adored writing Soft!Void it’s always interesting to make a character like him gentle and stuff. Fanfiction is just where it’s at for that lol. Anyways! I hope y’all enjoyed <3 It’s a Void type of update weekend to be honest.

Word Count: 7,265

You stirred slowly to the feeling of something cold and icy tracing circles across your lower back. At first, it felt like the brush of a breeze–barely-there, ghosting over your skin in lazy spirals that kissed your bare skin. But then you felt the weight beneath it: a hand, steady and firm, fingers moving like they were gliding across water. Then the tendrils followed, licking up your spine in short sweeps, mapping the beat of your pulse wherever they went. Soft and measured, mirroring the gentleness they had last night when they wrapped around you and pulled you in close. It was a devotion born from silence,

Your eyes slowly blinked open, lashes brushing against warmth, as the blurriness in your vision slowly disappeared, and everything came into focus.

The first thing you saw was him…The Void. Pressed flush to your side, his arm wrapped around you, his face nuzzled into the space between your collarbone and shoulder like he had claimed the spot, like he owned it–like he had always belonged there. He wasn’t asleep–you could tell by the way he was shifting slightly, by the rhythm of his fingers trailing up and down your skin, by the tilt of his head as if he were listening closely to something–but his eyes were closed to really sharpen his focus on your heartbeat.

His breath fanned against your skin in slow waves, cool but not biting in anyway. He was still made of darkness of course–obsidian, vantablack and impossibly formless around the edges–but his body was more grounded to the room now. Less smoke, and a bit more shape. A man molded from shadows rather than an all consuming void that ate away at it.

You couldn’t help but smile at the image in front of you, the domesticity of it, the beauty of the moment that meant everything encompassed in one small action of being held by something that was seen as violence incarnate.

“You’re still here?” You murmured. Immediately you felt his body tense up a little at your voice, before he nodded.

”Of course.” He replied, his voice rumbling softly against your skin. He lifted his head then, his white eyes gleaming faintly in the golden wash of morning light that poured through the half-open curtains of Bob’s bedroom. He was still all darkness–still a silhouette made of starlit ink–but the freckles were still there. The tiny white constellations you had left all over his face.

They glittered like frost in the sunlight. A map of where you had kissed him, the little markings of you that he now permanently held and displayed to the world. They trailed over his cheeks, his temple, his lips–especially his lips–and over his shoulders like scars, but they were things of beauty.

You could see the shape of his smile forming under your gaze. Not fully though, but the curve of his mouth was barely visible to you, like moonlight grazing soft charcoal. It was a smile made more of intention than form.

“I didn’t think it would be the best idea to have Bob waking up to you looking so…” He paused, searching for the word as he stared at you, “Wrecked.” A laugh caught in your throat, kissed with a hint of tiredness that plagued your mind.

“You’re not wrong…You made a very good choice.” You whispered.

You reached up and touched his cheek–your thumb dragging slowly across the edge of one of the pale little stars that clung to the darkness of his skin. His form remained cool under your fingers, but it wasn’t as frigid as the night before. It had seemed like the mingling of your body heat had softened him in some way, providing a sort of blatant contrast between temperatures. He leaned into your hand with a sigh, lashes lowering and fluttering closed.

”You look so…Beautiful in the sun.” You commented softly, which earned a soft hum from him.

”Could never look as good as Sentry,” He said, almost teasing, “But…I’m glad you look at me that way.” You traced your fingertips over his mouth, feeling the way his lips curved under your touch–still unfamiliar with the softness of your little ministrations, but wholly aware of how much he needed it. He pressed a kiss to them, quietly displaying his devotion to you. Then he sighed.

”When do you want me to…Go?” He asked softly, like the question physically hurt him to say. His hands continued to move–one still stroking slowly up your spine, the trandrils tracing your ribs like music notes on a staff. But now everything paused, unsure. Bracing for an answer. You could feel your lips slowly tilt down at the way he sounded, but you let your touch trail back to his cheek again, brushing his silky skin, feeling him chase your warmth.

”Let’s just relax together for a few more minutes,” You whispered, “Then we can make those decisions…Cause I’m the one that’s going to need to explain this, remember?” You gave him a wry smile, “So I need some peace before the chaos.” He nodded against your palm.

”Okay.” He replied, focusing on the way your thumb traced a slow arc that followed the glowing little novas scattered along his cheek.

Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was something deeper, something boundless–but he shifted up then, just a little, until he was face to face with you. His arm tightening around you to pull you closer towards him, your bare skin pressing against his. You could feel his breath brushing against your lips, almost like he was waiting for you to close the space between the both of you, and you instantly took the hint.

You leaned forward and gave him a soft, warm, and quiet kiss, drowning in the stillness of the morning. He let out a loud breath–less of a moan and more of a huff of disbelief, like your affection was still catching him off guard. He pulled back just enough to murmur.

”You’re radiant in the morning, by the way…” Your cheeks warmed at the comment, attempting to fight off your smile from growing wider as he reached up, his cool fingers grazing your jaw, while his thumb swept across the heat that radiated off your cheekbone.

“I understand why Bob dreams of you like this,” He continued quietly, “Why he looks at you all the time when you’re in the sunlight. Why he checks on you at night when he wakes up and you’ve accidentally fallen asleep, even when you’re the one keeping watch over him…It all makes sense…” You let out a small laugh.

”Remind me never to tell you any of my secrets…” His head tilted slightly in amusement, like he didn’t quite understand what you meant, “Because all you’re going to do is blurt them out to everyone.” You continued, teasing now. He chuckled lowly–just a breath of a sound–and leaned to the side, his mouth finding the love bite that he left on you the night before, pressing a gentle kiss on top of it, feeling a snip of pain inch to the surface. His breath chilled the soreness, and it made you inhale through your teeth–but not from pain, just from the memory that it stirred up inside of you.

”I’m allowed to speak the truth,” He claimed, “I am part of Bob, and he is part of me. Technically, his secrets are my secrets too.” You snorted at his words.

”Great. So you’re double snooping.” He kissed the bruise again at the comment. Slower this time, with the kind of deliberate gentleness that made your breath hitch. Then, with no real warning except the cool sweep of air that gusted over your collarbone, he trailed down, nipping at the soft flesh there–just once–before murmuring.

”I promise I’ll keep your secrets…I don’t have many people to tell them to anyways.” You laughed, quiet and fond of the unexpected kisses and nips he began to place on your skin. You pulled back slightly with a grin tugging at your lips, but the shift of your hips brought a dull ache between your legs that hadn’t quite registered until just then. The soreness bloomed like heat, reminding you of just how intense last night had been.

You winced, and immediately he stilled.

“Are you okay?” His voice dropped, no longer teasing–just concerned, genuinely, and deeply, which was something you had never heard from him before to this degree. His tendrils froze mid-air, and his hands pulled away from your skin almost like he thought he had done something to you unknowingly. You nodded quickly, cupping his face as if to reassure him physically.

”Just a bit sore from last night. Moved a bit too fast, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.” You explained. He gulped, letting out a small hum, like he was processing your answer carefully, scanning your face to see if he could tell if you were lying or not. You reached down to his arm and moved it back to your skin, to tell him to resume touching you, feeling his hand returning to the warmth of your back.

“Maybe I can help a bit.” You raised an eyebrow, suspicious of how his voice sounded like he was planning something.

“Yeah? And how are you planning to do that?” He leaned forward and kissed you softly, earning another glowing freckle that bloomed on his bottom lip, warm and silver-white. He held the kiss for a second longer than necessary, then pulled back, his voice dipping into a tone that could’ve passed for flirtation if it wasn’t so soft and slightly hesitant.

“I could…Go down and check if everything’s okay?” You stared at him for a beat, then you snorted, laughing so hard you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep it from echoing off the bedroom walls. You could see the way his eyes widened at you and your reaction that he wanted to probably crawl into himself.

”Oh my god,” You wheezed behind your palm, “If you’re asking to go down on me Void…Just say it. You make it sound like I’m at the doctor’s office.” His head tilted to the side at first, not really understanding what you meant at first, then the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. If he could blush in those moments, he probably would’ve combusted.

”I…I was trying to be polite,” He muttered, his voice carrying a hint of flustered warmth, a rare crack in his otherwise measured cadence. You grinned, completely endeared and enamoured by his demeanour.

He cleared his throat, then tried again–more deliberately this time, “Alright…Can I go down on you to ease the soreness?” You bit your bottom lip, the heat in your stomach that had been cooled down from last night warming up again, almost in anticipation.

“Only if you want,” You whispered, hand brushing through the shadows of his hair–silky and cool, like clouded moonlight.

”I want to try you,” He replied quietly. His voice dropped into something heavier, something nearly holy in tone, “So yes. I want to.” His hand traced down from your back to your side, his fingers skating lightly over your hipbone, as if memorizing the way you fit under his touch.

”I want to know the shape of your pleasure,” He continued softly, shifting forward a bit, “How it tastes. How it lingers.” You shivered at the words, feeling his lips press against your jaw, then to the hollow just beneath your ear.

”I want you etched on my tongue,” He whispered, his breath fanning over your skin, bringing up little goosebumps across it, “So I’ll still remember you even in the parts of me that forget time…Or self.” You could feel your heart pounding in your chest now, as you swallowed hard, your throat tightening slightly.

“I want the first thing I learn fully to be you,” He added, voice barely more than a breath now, “And the last thing I taste, when I disappear again…” Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for him, tracing the glowing freckles on his shoulder, the star map of your tether to him, “Did that convince you enough?” He asked, a bit breathless already, you didn’t know if it was due to nerves or excitement, but you nodded.

”Yes…” His lips pressed to your neck again–barely there–as his body began to shift, the cool weight of him moving with deliberate grace. His hands mapped a slow, unspoken permission along your sides before guiding you gently onto your back. The mattress dipped with the motion, and you allowed him to move you, your body yielding beneath the soft pull of his hands, your legs parting just enough to cradle him between them.

He settled there, cushioned between your thighs, one arm wrapped loosely around your hip while the other steadied himself just above your ribs. You could feel his breath hitch slightly–like even now, even after last night, the intimacy of this moment made him pause, made him take it in and drink up every minute.

Then he dipped down again.

Gentle, deliberate kisses began at your collarbone. Then lower. The swell of your breast, the hollow of your sternum, the curve of your belly. Each kiss was slow, placed like a blessing, like each patch of skin he touched was a line from a sacred text that he was committing to himself and to memory. You felt like a holy scripture beneath him, a verse he didn’t want to misquote. A prophecy he’d been waiting to fulfill.

Your hands rubbed up and down the slope of his shoulders, grounding yourself with the feeling of his form–cool, strong, fluid under your fingers. His hair was slightly disheveled from the night before, strands standing on end and hanging forward over his face, and you swept them back gently, revealing the shine of stardust freckles dusted across his cheekbones and temple. He looked…Peaceful. No less inhuman, but deeply softened by presence. By purpose.

And just as he reached the point where he wanted to be–where he could feel the heat of you pressed close and trembling–your fingers pushed the comforter down to your waist. You wanted to see him. To see all of him in the light.

Golden sunlight spilled across the room, painting your skin in warmth and his in faint glitter. It caught on the sharp edges of his face, on the fainter points of his silhouette. And when he glanced up and saw the way you’d pulled the covers away, his lips parted into a small smile. It was shy, almost boyish–if shadows could ever look innocent–and you swore his teeth caught the light like diamonds for the briefest moment.

He kissed your thighs, both of them. Once. Then again. Then a third time. Nuzzling his cheek against the soft flesh there like it soothed him just as much as it did you. You could feel his fingers adjusting your legs, repositioning them until you were fully open to him–utterly exposed and glistening beneath the morning sun.

It was vulnerable in a way that startled you. Not from fear, but from awareness. Awareness of how raw and real and unhidden it all was. There was no hiding in candlelight here. No veil of night to protect your insecurities. Just you. Bare, radiant, and shaking slightly under the watchful eyes of something born from eternity.

He noticed it immediately. The way your breath caught. The subtle tension in your thighs. His head lifted just enough so that he could meet your gaze again, the glowing galaxies in his eyes suddenly soft.

“You okay?” He asked gently, voice low, as if trying not to break the quiet intimacy that had settled around the two of you like a fog.

You let out a short breath, heart hammering just slightly harder now. “Yeah…Yeah, you’re just…Staring.”

His lips curved as he leaned in and kissed the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“I’m staring because you’re beautiful,” He said plainly. “Not for any other reason.” You swallowed hard at that. The words were so honest, so direct, that they unraveled some small knot inside your chest. He wasn’t gawking. He wasn’t objectifying. He was simply… Beholding. His eyes never left yours, even as his lips brushed the inside of your thigh again–lower this time, closer. You could feel the cool, steady warmth of his breath fan against the slick heat of you, and your hips twitched instinctively, a small motion that didn’t escape him.

“Can I continue?” He asked, voice low and velvet-smooth, like he needed you to invite him in.

You nodded–slow, breathless, a tremble in your jaw. “Yes… please.”

His hands found your stomach, large and careful, palms splayed flat against your skin like he was grounding you and himself at once. You watched the way his fingers settled just beneath your ribs, thumbs tucked softly along the dip of your waist as his shoulders nudged higher, easing between your thighs. The backs of them pressed firm and steady to your skin, anchoring you in place as he lowered himself with slow precision.

He kissed right beside your core–just to the side of where you ached for him most–and you felt the low, deep thrum of desire pulse in your belly, blooming warm and eager. The anticipation alone made your thighs tense slightly, your breath catching at the way he paused there, lips pressed to the delicate skin like it was a vow. A beginning.

Then his tongue met you.

Slow. Careful. Reverent.

He licked through your folds with a gentleness that stole the air from your lungs, tasting the way your body still held the remnants of him from the night before. You heard the breath leave his throat–not a groan, not a growl–just a sigh. Pure and content, like he’d been craving this for centuries and had finally been allowed to have it.

His eyes fluttered up to you, heavy-lidded, already looking intoxicated by the taste of you, and his mouth curved against your flesh.

“You taste like every galaxy encompassed into one…I could live forever between these thighs of yours.” Your grip tightened on his thumbs where his hands still rested on your stomach. You didn’t even realize you’d been holding them so delicately until your fingers curled tighter, the pressure grounding you as his mouth returned to you–licking you slowly, firmly, with long, languid strokes that made your spine arch without thinking. His eyes fluttered shut like he was savoring a wine that had aged since the birth of time. He moved like he meant it, every lap of his tongue drawn out with divine patience, the kind that could make someone lose their mind.

You let out a few breathy gasps, soft and trembling, and you felt him hum against you like he could taste the way his pace unraveled you.

His tendrils–cool and alive–began to lift off his back and curl underneath you, sliding beneath the arch of your spine, gently coiling to support you. They helped you lift just enough into him, so that his mouth could stay exactly where he wanted it, where you needed him. Your back arched higher, involuntary, chest rising with each panting breath, and you could feel his rhythm settling into you, molding to the way your body pulsed and moved.

“Fuck…” You whispered, barely audible as your head tipped back. “Void…Oh god…”

It was so quiet–barely more than a moan-shaped breath–but it made him groan low against your core, and that vibration made your hips jerk in surprise. He adjusted to it, licking deeper, more intent now. Your fingers released one of his hands to grab at the edge of a pillow, tugging it toward you and shoving the corner into your mouth just in time to muffle the noise threatening to tear from your throat. Your body shook with the effort of holding it in.

His body shifted more heavily into the mattress, weight sinking with purpose between your thighs as he buried his face deeper into you. You felt it instantly–the change, the surrender of his control. It amazed you that this cosmic force of destruction and shadow, was beginning to unravel just from the way your body responded to him. From your taste. Your breath. The sacred warmth he had found between your legs.

And he moaned again.

It wasn’t measured or calculated this time–it tore from him unbidden, low and needy and aching with reverence. The vibration of it rippled through you, seizing something deep in your belly. His lips were wet and swollen now, his jaw flexing as he sucked your clit gently into his mouth and circled it with the tip of his tongue. Soft at first. Then firmer. Then faster.

You gasped around the pillow, fingers twisting in the sheets as your thighs trembled around his head. His tendrils moved in tandem with your mounting pleasure, curling up your arms, sliding around your shoulders, cradling you in places his hands couldn’t reach in that moment. They felt like silk and shadow, kissing your skin like they were worshipping every inch of you they could find. As though your body was a temple and they had come to pray, and worship.

Your eyes welled with tears.

You hadn’t even realized how close you were–how overwhelmed you felt–until your throat tightened with the emotion of it. His hands had left your stomach, now gripping your hips, rubbing slow, grounding circles into the flesh there, steadying you, encouraging you. His mouth stayed fixed to you, tongue swirling faster now, messier, wetter, more desperate.

He wanted this.

He wanted you like this.

His tongue flattened and dragged across your clit in firm, deliberate strokes, then flicked in quick succession, a pattern that had your entire body jerking with each pass. You let out another muffled moan into the pillow, your hips bucking against his face as his moans deepened, louder now, uninhibited. He was losing himself, humming like he could barely breathe from how much he was consuming you, how badly he wanted all of it.

And then–you felt it.

The final shift.

The tendrils coiled tighter behind your back. His grip on your hips firmed just a little more. And his mouth latched onto you, driven by a divine hunger that only he could hold, sucking your clit between his lips while his tongue fluttered and lapped with devastating speed.

Your back arched even more.

“J-Jesus Christ–Void–Oh my god–” You whimpered, voice shaking, the pillow slipping from your mouth as your cries escaped unfiltered now. He groaned against you again, as if your voice alone could make him come undone.

Your orgasm crashed into you like a breaking wave–sharp and all-consuming, stealing the air from your lungs. Your thighs clamped around his head, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as you sobbed his name. Your body pulsed against his mouth, twitching with every aftershock as he licked you through it, devouring everything you gave him, like he needed to make sure you finished completely.

You felt how wet his face and lips were as he pressed himself into you more, moaning like it was a blessing. Like he had waited an eternity to be marked by your pleasure and was finally baptized in it.

Your body quivered violently, overstimulated but still desperate for every lingering touch, every flick of his tongue as he slowed his pace, now pressing languid, open-mouthed kisses to your swollen clit–soothing, and full of longing. His tendrils unwound slightly, loosening their grip like they sensed you were drifting down from the heavens again.

He didn’t move immediately. Didn’t speak. He just held you there, mouth resting gently between your thighs, hands stroking your sides, eyes closed as he breathed you in.

And for a moment…There was only silence.

Silence and the echo of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, pounding out a rhythm only he seemed to know. Your chest rose and fell in sharp little waves, like you couldn’t quite catch your breath, body still trembling in the aftermath. You reached up, blinking hard, and swiped your fingers under your eyes–wet. You let out a shaky, stunned little laugh that broke the silence like sunlight through a stormcloud.

That laugh caught his attention instantly.

The Void’s eyes fluttered open–those soft, shimmering galaxies blinking up at you from between your legs. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, and his voice came out low, gentle, like it didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between you.

“…Are you okay? You’re crying.”

You let out a long, breathy sigh, chest still fluttering from the aftershocks, and reached down, fingers brushing into his hair–those strands of living darkness softening under your touch.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion, “That was just…Wow.” He let out a quiet huff of a laugh through his nose, the sound warm and disbelieving.

“That good?”

You nodded, hand trailing from his scalp to his cheek, feeling the dampness there–your own slick and sweat from him and tears from your fingers mixed on his skin, and he leaned into it, kissing your palm once like it was a thank-you.

Then he pressed a few more kisses to your inner thigh–slower, softer now, like he couldn’t help himself–before finally shifting up your body. He crawled up with measured grace, his body blanketing yours as he braced himself with one hand and cupped your face with the other.

“No more soreness?” He murmured, eyes scanning you carefully. His thumb brushed across your cheek like he was checking your temperature, memorizing the softness of your skin. You shifted your hips slightly beneath him, stretching your legs out and curling them back again, testing. There was still a little warmth there, but no pain. No sharpness. You shook your head slowly.

“No… I don’t feel anything…But…” You paused. Just long enough for him to notice.

“But?” He asked, tilting his head, his voice laced with quiet teasing. “You want to ruin my work that quickly?” You rolled your eyes at him and reached down, brushing your thigh deliberately against the firm, unmistakable weight pressed against you.

“I can literally feel you Void.” He grinned faintly–barely there, but enough to show in the dim curve of his mouth. Then he leaned forward and kissed the point of your chin.

“It seems like you’re stalling the return of Bob.” His voice softened a little more, brushing against your ear like a confession. “Nervous to talk to him?” You shook your head.

“I just want to feel you one more time before you go.”

He froze for a second. Then his shoulders rose and fell with a breath–steady, quiet, like he was gathering himself–and he nodded slowly.

“Okay…” He whispered. “Okay.”

He shifted again, his lower body sinking more heavily between your legs, and you felt one of his hands slide down, fingers curling around himself. He kept his eyes on you the entire time–those white-gold pupils glowing faintly in the light–as he guided his length down, dragging it slowly through your slick, your body already wet and open for him.

You both gasped–him with a trembling exhale, and you with a sharp breath that hitched in your throat. It wasn’t just physical–it was something more. A moan shaped like a prayer. A breath that came from somewhere deeper than lungs. Like relief, and awe, and surrender all at once.

And then he started to push in.

The stretch made your thighs twitch, your hands flying back up to his shoulders–scratching, clinging, needing something to hold onto as he began to fill you with aching slowness. His jaw clenched with restraint, eyes flickering down to where your bodies met, then back up to your face like he couldn’t choose which sight he wanted more.

Your hips lifted slightly, just enough to welcome him in deeper, and you leaned up to kiss him—hungry, desperate, breathless. Your lips met his like you were sealing something sacred, your moan swallowed into the heat of his mouth as he sank in further.

He pulled back slightly, only to rock into you again–slow, deliberate, the kind of thrust that made your whole body jolt in place from how precise it was. You both let out those quiet, breathy gasps–small and intimate, the kind of sounds no one else was ever meant to hear. The kind that felt like you were in a confessional booth whispering your sins to one another.

And then–

SLAM.

The door cracked open fast. Too fast. A voice, loud and sharp and absolutely not part of your dreamlike haze, tore through the room like a bullet through glass.

“Hey I was just coming to ch–OH MY GOD–“

Void’s head whipped towards the door, your legs instinctively snapping together against his waist before raising your hand and pushing Walker out of the doorway and slamming it shut, locking it this time.

”Fuck.” You whispered, your hand slowly dragged up your face in sheer horror. The Void turned his head back to you.

”…I better bring Bob back…Right?” And you nod instantly.

——————————

The tension in the kitchen was like static–thick, buzzing, just waiting for something to spark.

You and Bob stood beside each other, not quite touching but not apart either, like the gravity between you hadn’t quite settled yet. You had thrown on a random bathrobe that you had found in Bob’s closet, and you were clutching the edge of it. Bob was in a plain t-shirt and shorts, his hair still a little messy, a faint pink hue still riding high on his cheeks. His fingers tapped nervously, rhythmically, against the surface of the granite countertop, like the movement alone could save him from combusting under the weight of what just happened.

Across from you, the rest of the Thunderbolts sat in stunned silence, coffee mugs and half-eaten protein bars abandoned. Yelena leaned forward slowly, her elbow on the counter and her chin resting in her hand, her eyes locked unapologetically on the dark bruise on your neck. She didn’t even try to hide her smirk. Walker looked like death. Pale. Jaw tight. His hands clenched like he was ready to punch a wall or rip out his own eyeballs. Bucky leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, a single eyebrow raised like he was already halfway through processing the absurdity of it all.

And then Bob spoke.

“I th–thought I was having…A sex dr–dream.”

The silence broke like glass.

Your head whipped toward him. His voice was so tentative, so innocent in comparison to the gravity of what had gone down, that it nearly made you choke. He looked…Genuinely hopeful. Like maybe–just maybe–that tiny piece of honesty would land gently enough to break the tension. As if opening with awkward vulnerability might pad the inevitable crash.

It didn’t.

Walker let out a noise somewhere between a gag and a full-body shudder.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That wasn’t a dream, man. I saw it. I walked in on it. You –he was–you were both–” His voice cracked and broke off entirely, like just recounting it would put him into cardiac arrest.

You sighed, loud and heavy, and braced both palms on the counter. Your whole body sagged a little, the exhaustion from both pleasure and stress catching up all at once

“Listen,” You started, voice hard, addressing the entire group, “What Walker saw…Was something he shouldn’t have seen at all.” You glanced up at the table, jaw tight. Walker’s eyes snapped to you, wild with disbelief.

“It shouldn’t even have been happening in the first place, what the hell are you thinking, Y/N?!” You flinched–not from shame, but frustration boiling to the surface like steam from a cracked pipe.

“Can you just hear me out for once, Walker? Instead of listening to your own fucking voice on repeat?”

All eyes were on you.

The weight of it burned against your skin–Bucky’s steady gaze, Ava’s calculating silence, Yelena’s amusement now tempered with curiosity, Alexei’s raised brows, Walker’s barely-restrained rage. And Bob. Bob stood beside you like a shadow trying to turn into something solid. Nervous, but holding.

Then Bucky broke the silence.

“Well…” He said, slowly, voice even, “Can you at least explain yourself? Because from what Walker is telling us…” He flicked a glance toward Walker without finishing the sentence. “It sounds like you were having sex with The Void.”

Bob shifted beside you. Visibly uncomfortable now. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to step in–to protect you, defend you, say anything that might ease the blow–but he didn’t interrupt. Not yet. His presence, though, was enough. The concern in his eyes was carved into every inch of his face–etched into the tightness of his jaw, the dip of his brow, the way his shoulder leaned just slightly toward yours, like he wanted to shield you from the weight of every stare.

You glanced at him–at the man you had grown such love for, and the power that haunted him–and then back at the team.

“Yes,” You replied clearly, firmly, like you weren’t ashamed, “Yes, I was having sex with The Void.”

Walker sucked in a breath like he was about to explode again–but you raised a hand to cut him off, voice unwavering.

“But it wasn’t the one you’ve encountered. He wasn’t out of control. He wasn’t monstrous. He was…” Your voice faltered only slightly as you looked back at Bob, your hand reaching to gently gesture toward him. “He was like him. Just with Void powers. That’s literally it. He wasn’t hurting me. I promise you–he was soft. He was careful. He wasn’t the threat you all think he is.” The group went quiet again, the air so thick it was hard to breathe. Bob had inched closer to you–so close now that his shoulder brushed yours–and for the first time since you walked into the kitchen, you saw him stand a little straighter. Not out of confidence, but out of instinct. Like if anyone moved toward you too fast, he’d put himself in the middle.

Walker, of course, didn’t back down.

“And how do we know that he isn’t going to turn and void us into our shame rooms again?” His voice sharpened, stabbing through the tension like a blade. “You’re playing a sick, twisted game, Y/N. And one day it’s going to get someone hurt.” There was a pause so long it felt like the Earth stopped rotating. Then–

“Walker,” Bucky said flatly, eyes narrowing, “shut the hell up for a minute.”

Walker’s jaw clicked shut.

Yelena, ever the disruptor, swiveled her stool slightly. “Well…If you have control over him,” she said, tapping her fingernail against the counter, “if you’re really able to coax him out like you say…Then do it right now.”

You blinked at her. “Right now?”

She shrugged, smirking a little. “I’m curious. I want to see what version of The Void you’re describing. Let’s meet your…Other boyfriend.” Alexei snorted into his coffee. Ava muttered something that you didn’t quite catch, though she didn’t look away. Everyone’s eyes were glued to you.

You turned to Bob.

He was already looking at you. Nervous. But not scared. Not of you, at least.

“I–If it’ll help you explain,” He murmured, voice a bit hoarse, “I–I can try to have him come out…”

You reached for his hand without hesitation. The contact was grounding. Solid. Your thumb rubbed slowly over the top of his knuckles, skin soft against the calluses there.

“If you can…” You said gently, “That would be good. Please.” You squeezed his hand, your voice low and quiet just for him. “I’ll explain everything afterward. Okay?”

Bob nodded once.

There was a moment of stillness as Bob closed his eyes.

He didn’t move at first–just stood there, your hand still clasped in his. His breaths were deep and even, like he was meditating. Preparing. Then, slowly, the light in the room seemed to shift. Darker–not in color, but in sensation. Like the gravity had shifted an inch to the left and no one could quite stand the same way anymore.

It started at his fingers. Shadows creeping up his wrists like ink spilled into water, rising with a slow, elegant hunger. You felt the air cool between your bodies as the blackness licked up his forearms and bled into his neck, coating his skin in smooth, gleaming obsidian. His muscles tensed slightly beneath your fingers, but he didn’t let go. The sparkles appeared then–soft glimmers, starbursts of light blooming along his throat and cheeks and jawline. They shimmered over his skin like constellations mapped across a dark sky, forming in the exact places your lips had touched him.

You felt the moment shift behind you. The scraping of a stool. The subtle click of someone’s finger grazing a weapon.

They were readying themselves.

You didn’t let go of his hand.

Within minutes, he was fully transformed. Where Bob had stood moments ago, now stood something else–taller somehow, darker, and dripping with restrained power. The Void.

He let out a slow sigh, the breath cool and steady. His white-gold eyes blinked open–and immediately found you.

“I’m back alrea–”

He cut himself off, mid-word, when he realized it wasn’t just you standing there anymore. His head tilted slightly, eyes sweeping the group. You could still see the flicker of surprise cross his eyes, but it was dulled–tempered by your presence, your touch grounding him like an anchor.

“…Is this show and tell?” He asked, looking back at you with the faintest smirk, the little glimmer of teeth catching your gaze. His voice had that unmistakable timbre to it–low, deep, impossibly smooth.

You rolled your eyes and gave him a small, playful push. “Look at them and introduce yourself, please, before they open fire at you.” He blinked. Then gulped. You could almost laugh at how human the gesture was–how unsure he suddenly seemed with all those eyes on him. He turned slowly, facing the kitchen island, where the rest of the Thunderbolts were staring at him like they’d just seen a ghost…And then watched that ghost crack a shy smile.

“Hey…Everyone,” He said, raising a hand and giving them a slow, uncertain wave. “Uh… Good morning.”

There was dead silence for a beat, then all heads swiveled toward you.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Ava asked, her brows furrowing.

You frowned a little, confused. “What?”

She motioned to his cheeks and lips, squinting. “Does he have…Stars on him?” The Void glanced sideways at you, like he didn’t quite know how to answer that himself.

You looked at her and nodded. “Yeah, they’re…From me,” You added after a pause. “It’s everywhere I kissed him.” That seemed to only further stun the group. The Void cleared his throat, taking a tentative step forward–just enough to stand at your side again.

“I am not the same thing you faced in New York,” He said softly, his voice carrying with unnatural ease across the kitchen. “I’m changed. I’m–”

“Rehabilitated?” Yelena cut in, her voice dry.

The Void hesitated. Then let out a breath of something that might’ve been a laugh. “Not exactly. But…I’m different, I know it may not seem like it, but truly…You guys just haven’t given me a chance.” Bucky’s arms were still folded, his posture tense and unreadable—but his eyes were locked on The Void with the kind of hardened suspicion that only came from seeing too much.

“And how can we trust,” He said coolly, “that you’re not just trying to get in good with her so she lets her guard down–and you take advantage of the situation?”

The words landed like a slap.

The Void didn’t flinch, but he did sigh–long and slow, like he’d expected it, like he didn’t even blame Bucky for asking.

“I’m not going to do that to her,” He whispered, quieter now. “She’s… She’s my–”

He stopped.

The word sat there in the back of his throat, heavy, unspoken. Everyone seemed to hold their breath.

His jaw tensed, eyes flickering shut for just a second like the confession pained him somehow–too large to say out loud, too raw to release fully. And then he exhaled and muttered, almost like he hated how serious it made him sound:

“She’s my soulmate.” The silence was deafening. All oxygen in the room seemed to vanish for a moment. “I won’t harm her,” He added, more firmly now. “And I’m not going to hurt any of you–because you’re her friends. And also…” He glanced down slightly, like he was still trying to wrap his head around the feelings threading through him, “Because Bob cares about you guys. So I… I have to care too, and I’ve been trying my best to care.” His glowing eyes scanned them again, this time slower. Less wary. More human.

“Can you guys just…Trust me? Please.” There was another pause.

A long one.

And then, finally–

“You two are soulmates?” Alexei asked, like he had misheard what was said. You sighed, dragging a hand down your face.

“It’s very confusing, I know. Just…Don’t overthink it. Please. For your own sake.” There was a beat of silence where no one moved–until Bucky finally turned to you, one brow still raised in that infuriatingly calm, world-weary way of his.

“So basically,” he said slowly, “we need to get used to seeing this guy around more often, then?”

You shook your head quickly, hands lifting in a light defensive gesture. “No. No, it’s not like that–at least, not yet. You’ll probably just…See him about as often as Bob. I guess.” You glanced up at the Void, whose glowing eyes were still quietly watching the team like he hadn’t blinked once. “I really don’t know for sure because this literally just happened. We’re figuring it out too.”

There was a pause as the team looked at each other–some with uncertainty, others with resigned confusion. Yelena leaned toward Ava and whispered something that made her snort. Alexei just kept blinking like someone was going to eventually shout gotcha! and reset the universe.

Then Walker finally muttered, “We don’t really have a choice, do we?” He motioned toward the Void, his face still pale. “He’s staring us down.”

“I’m just looking, and judging very very quietly on how I can get out of this a little less embarrassed.” Yelena smirked.

”I could get used to him actually.” She muttered, motioning to him, causing everyone to collectively groan.

[doietopia]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ needy — n.jm

pairing: jaemin x f!reader genre and content: smut, soft dom!jaemin, praise kink, emotional intimacy, slight needy!reader, lap sitting, unprotected sex, mutual yearning, gentle dominance, established relationship, soft possessiveness, body worship. mdni wc: 1.4k sypnosis: just one soft, breathless request is all it takes for jaemin to melt you in his hands.

“you’re fidgeting.”

you freeze, fingers halfway to the hem of your his oversized old shirt, caught red-handed. jaemin doesn’t look up from the book in his lap, just turns a page slowly, like he’s giving you time to either confess or continue misbehaving.

“i’m not,” you murmur.

his eyes rise at that. calm and a little amused. “you’ve been squirming for ten minutes.”

you want to argue, but you’re already curled up in his lap, one leg tucked beneath you, the other hanging lazily over his thigh. he’s warm beneath you, bare-chested, soft grey sweatpants riding low on his hips.

“i’m just…” you start, then trail off, cheeks flushed.

“restless?” he supplies. he closes the book carefully, setting it aside on the nightstand with a quiet thud. then he looks at you. “or needy?”

the word makes you swallow.

you don’t answer, not that you need to. his hands find your waist anyway, hot through the thin cotton. he shifts beneath you just enough to hold you better, and you let him. you feel small like this, tucked into his lap, breathing his air.

“use your words, baby,” he says, thumb brushing slow circles over your hip. “you know i’ll always take care of you, but you gotta tell me.”

your lashes flutter as you meet his gaze. “i want— i want you to touch me.”

that makes his face soften. he leans in and kisses your cheek, then your temple, then the corner of your mouth. “that’s all you had to say.”

his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, finding bare skin. his thumbs spread lightly across your waist, and the shiver that follows is instant.

“you’re always so soft” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw as he speaks. “so easy to touch.”

you let him move you, pliant in his hands as he lifts the shirt inch by inch. his knuckles graze your ribs, then your chest, until the fabric slips over your head and it’s gone.

his eyes flick down your chest, then back up to your face. he leans in, mouth brushing the corner of yours. “pretty baby,” he whispers. “always so beautiful.”

he takes his time, thumb grazing the smooth swell of your breast, the other hand gliding up your spine to cradle the back of your neck. your knees bracket his hips. 

he leans in with a long, slow kiss to your shoulder, your collarbone. then he draws you in, pressing your bare chest flush to his. heartbeat fluttering where it meets his own.

you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, and he hums in contentment. “that’s my good girl,” he murmurs.

maybe you sigh a little. maybe your body melts just a bit more into his. because when he holds you like this, when his voice dips low and careful, when he says things like that, not demanding, not rough, just claiming you with kindness, it undoes something quiet and deep inside you. you feel safe here.

but the ache doesn’t fade.

your voice comes out small. “i want more of you.”

he stills for a second, as if absorbing every word. then his lips curve, slow and knowing. “there she is,” he murmurs, almost proud. “see? that’s all you have to do.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you. the cool air hits your skin, but his hands never leave. they find their way back easily, sliding over your sides, cupping your breasts. too warm. 

his thumbs brush over your nipples with a lighter touch. and the contrast makes you flinch. they tighten instantly under the attention. he watches everything, your face, the way your breath stutters, how your lips part when he pinches just a little harder.

one of his hands leaves your chest, dragging slowly down your side. he follows the dip of your waist, then slips between your thighs, cupping you over your panties, the pressure making you whimper.

his fingers move with purpose, rubbing slow circles through the fabric. “is this what you needed?” he whispers, lips brushing your temple. “this what you’ve been squirming about all night?”

you nod against his shoulder, breath catching when he presses a little harder. the friction makes your thighs tremble.

“words, baby.”

“yes,” you breathe. “please. more.”

he eases the panties down your hips. it drags slowly across your thighs, damp from how much you’ve been wanting him, and when he finally gets them past your knees, he tosses them somewhere off the bed. 

he moves between your legs, spreading you open carefully. your body jolts at the contact, skin on skin. fingers gliding easily. slow strokes that drag through your folds and circle your clit with devastating patience.

“fuck,” he exhales. “you’re dripping.”

you whimper, burying your face in his neck. he keeps going, his thumb slick now, tracing circles that grow a little tighter, you can barely keep still.

one finger pushes in, gently, and you gasp at the stretch. he waits until your body relaxes around him before sliding in a second. he curls them slightly, and your mouth drops open in a silent cry.

his other hand slips beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, adjusting himself just enough to free his cock. you can feel the bare press of his length against your thigh, responding to every shift of your hips.

you’re barely breathing when he withdraws his fingers covered in slick. you look up at him, wide-eyed, dazed, and before you can say a word,he slips them into his mouth. your whine breaks the silence.

“please—” 

“please what?” he says gently, kissing your jaw. “you want more?”

you nod helplessly, rocking your hips against his lap. breath stuttering as he speaks again, “sit up a little for me.”

you do, and he guides you, palms steady on your hips as he shifts you into place, your entrance hovering just above his pulsing cock.

“jaemin—”

his cock slides through your folds first, slow and teasing, the head catching on your clit and making you jolt.

“you’re so ready” he says, more to himself than you. “gonna feel so good inside you.”

and then he’s pushing in, letting you feel every inch stretch and fill you. with a broken sound, you fold forward, forehead pressed to his shoulder.

he doesn’t rush at first. just holds you there, seated fully on him, his cock throbbing inside you. you pulse around him, still adjusting, and he groans softly, one hand sliding up your back to cradle the base of your skull.

“you okay?” he whispers, lips brushing your temple.

you nod, dazed, your voice barely a sound. “yes… i just—need a second.”

“take it,” he says. “i’ve got you.”

he waits, patient, thumb rubbing small, grounding circles into your hipbone until your breathing evens out. until you start to shift on your own, just a little, testing, rocking forward, then back, chasing that sweet friction. you cling to his shoulders, letting him control the rhythm

“that’s it,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek. “take me. just like that.”

he helps you move. lifting and lowering, and every time he rocks you down, your clit brushes against the base of his stomach.

your forehead presses to his. “so good—” you gasp. the heat builds impossibly fast. your thighs start to shake, rhythm stuttering.

you whimper his name, and he smiles against your skin. “i know, i know,” he coos. “you’re close, aren’t you?”

you can only nod and moan against his skin through clenched teeth. every part of you feels strung tight. 

his thumb finds your clit again, and the moment he circles it, you snap. your body locks up, a full-body tremor ripping through you as you cry out, clenching hard around him. white heat floods your vision. his other hand slides up your back, spreading wide between your shoulder blades, holding you steady as you come.

he kisses your cheek as you ride it out, murmuring against your skin: “that’s it, baby. i’ve got you.”

he thrusts up hard once, twice, chasing his own high and then groans against your shoulder as he comes, pulsing deep inside you. his grip on your hips turns bruising for a moment, and then he melts under you.

when you both finally still, breathing heavy and tangled together, he strokes your back in slow circles.

“my pretty girl,” he whispers. “you were perfect.” you hum sleepily, still wrapped around him. safe. full. loved.

[nanamisweetgirl]

🜼 ⋆ gojo satoru spoils you with a small bath time after a long day.

you’re already in the tub when he walks in, casually carrying a towel over his shoulder and a bottle of body oil in one hand like he owns the place. like he hasn’t already wrecked you this evening with that mouth of his.

“you really weren’t gonna wait for me?” he teases, stepping closer. “that hurts, baby.”

“you were taking too long,” you murmur, half-drowsy from the heat. “figured you’d flake.”

he chuckles—low and knowing—and crouches beside the tub, resting his chin on his arms as he leans against the porcelain. his white lashes catch the glow of candlelight. his voice drops a little.

“you know i’d never miss a chance to get my hands on you.”

you roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush anyway.

he dips his fingers into the water, testing it. warm. silky. scented with something faintly sweet. “look at you,” he hums, eyes dragging over your skin, the soft line of your shoulders above the water. “you always this soft when you’re wet, or is it just for me?”

your breath catches, and his smile curves into something smug. he knows exactly what he’s doing. always does.

“c’mere,” he says, reaching behind to grab the oil. “let me spoil you a little.”

you sit forward obediently—part of you bashful, the other part desperate for his touch. he pours a few drops into his palm, warms it between his hands, then starts to glide them over your back. slow, methodical. the pressure is perfect.

“mm,” he murmurs, massaging your shoulders. “y’know, your skin’s so soft it’s practically criminal. what are you made of? clouds? rose petals? witchcraft?”

his thumbs work into the knots at the base of your neck, and you melt under him like wax. he leans in, voice brushing the shell of your ear.

“…or maybe it’s just that i’m the only one who gets to touch you like this.”

you turn your head slightly, catching the heat in his eyes. he’s close. too close. one wrong move and your lips would meet. maybe that’s the point.

he trails a fingertip along your jaw. his breath fans against your cheek.

“you okay, sweetheart?”

you nod slowly. “you’re teasing.”

“always,” he says, grinning—but it fades into something softer. “but i meant it. you’re… beautiful like this. i don’t always say it when i should. but i notice everything.”

he brushes your wet hair back, tucking it behind your ear. then he kisses the side of your neck. not rushed. not demanding. just… lingering.

and just like that, the room feels hotter than the water.

[hornymotionalcookie]

Sam's tag/s are a mess

So, here to slide a lil Sam-centric discord exclusive in to break up the monotony.

Just a lil self prompt and smol piece because funnies struck inspiration.

Prompt

Now I wanna read a fic about romance novelist Bucky, aka J.B. Wilson and his extraness fer inspiration of his work. I'm talking Justin Timberlake writing the song Gone bc his girl was away a few hours, extra.

A Sam Too Far excerpt: I stared across the great expanse, wondering would I ever be close enough to be warmed by his body heat again, close enough to see the dusting of his elongated lashes against his full cheeks, to press chest to back and feel our resting heartbeats sync.

Inspiration - Sam was sitting on the opposite end of the couch and was hogging the blanket.

Snip

"How do I inspire any of this?"

"Well, the sadness isn't hard to imagine when I think of all the ways I'd miss you if I didn't have your polar bear toes creeping up my back, or you getting so comfy cozy into the film on movie nights, huddled in our toasty fleece blanket while you leave me to suffer the elements alone, or any of the other thousand quirks of our love. Whether they're one time occurrences or habitual.

"They, all of them, inspire me to not just write, but be present in our love while also secretly immortalizing it."

Sam narrowed his eyes, "Uh huh. Look, don't try to smooth me over with your beautiful, fancy writer talk. Since you've got a cute lil answer for everything, explain the burning house? Neither of us have had to, and I pray we never do, face any burning building. What inspired that, huh?"

Bucky scrunched his face in deep thought. What would be the kindest way to say thi--

"Oh, just spit it out already, Bucky!"

"Your morning breath."

Silence.

"You mean to tell me my breath is so hot in the morning, it made you write your character, and I quote: 'brave the intense heat licking at his heels as he ran calling out to Tone, flames so close to his face, facial hair became wicks; but nothing could extinguish his need to find the man he loved, not even the all too real threat of a fiery death', end quote?"

Bucky opened and shut his mouth a few times, looking like a hooked, air-borne fish, trapped and struggling to breathe. "Well... Just be happy I don't write fantasy pieces, love. You could've easily inspired a dragon."

[cherripie32]

Tracing Marks | RuJinu Aquarium date <33

The city hummed from a distance, Rumi’s footsteps letting out a soft patter on the concrete as she drew closer. She now noticed the furrow in his brows, the color of pensiveness, hurt, in his eyes. Rumi wanted to ask about it, see how he is..but how could she when they barely knew each other? Wouldn’t it be hypocritical to ask someone to confess, show her the vulnerability that she herself built up walls to hide?

It was interrupted by Jinu’s companions, well- animal companions, they seemed to either be seen with him or wander around wherever they pleased, and he let off a smile as his hands ran through their fur.

“Okay, so I’ve been meaning to ask, why does the bird wear a tiny hat?”

She said, her eyes gesturing to the little crow, sitting on top of the snow-white tiger.

“I made it for the tiger, but the bird keeps taking it.” Jinu replied, a hint of displeasure in his tone as his eyes narrowed at the raven. Rumi observed the slight irritation in his tone, and couldn’t help but laugh. The tone was light, clear, a relief from all the burdens from the day. Jinu joined her, his sheepish chuckle complimenting the genuineness in her giggle. His gaze lingered a little too long. When she laughed, he smiled like it was the first time he’d heard anything that good.

He didn’t mean to look too long, but he did. Something about her—unguarded in that moment—felt strangely fragile and strong all at once. And maybe, just maybe, if they weren’t on opposite sides, he’d want to understand her more than he should.

“Hey” Rumi hummed quietly, “You’ve got a moment? I wanna show you something.” Her eyes showed a glimpse of softness, yet amusement.

“Oh yeah? Finally wanna go on a date?” He teased, a little quirk of his lips showing.

“What?? No! Don’t flatter yourself too much.” She scoffed, her brows knitted, but the slight warmth of her cheeks betrayed her.

“Mhm.”

“Ugh whatever- are you coming or not?”

“I'm coming, I'm coming. I’ll go wherever you take me.”

Jinu hummed in reply, amusement filling his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He followed Rumi, wherever she took him.

_________

“Brave of you for following me when I didn’t tell you where we’re going” Rumi mused, her tone teasing and her eyes playful as she snuck a glance behind at him.

“Well- I guess this is a sign that I trust you”

“Really? That much? I could’ve guided you to an alley and killed you by now”

“But you didn’t.”

…

“Yeah. I didn’t.” Rumi muttered, a bit in surrender, a bit in frustration. He was right after all.

“I just..” she started “wanted to show you something important to me.”

The tone in her voice was new, real. It could’ve made Jinu’s heart melt to bits from hearing a second of it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled, a little flutter in her lashes as she pushed the door open, revealing the room and the colorful arrangement of blue, and the fish swimming behind the glass. “An Aquarium.”

“An aquarium..?” He questioned, awe filling his eyes as he looked around. Everything was blue. Yet it was all so beautiful.

“Right. I figured. I bet you didn’t have things like these under the hamoon. That’s also part of the reason I wanted to show you this.”

“You’re right…we didn’t. This is my first time being in a place like this. It’s beautiful.”

He mumbled, his eyes never straying from her. He had so much to see, all of the sea creatures galore, every fish he couldn’t even name- or probably never heard of. But he looked at her.

They roamed around the aquarium, staring at the storms of fish and the majestic jellyfish, watching how the light of the waves dance and shine around the room.

She chuckled, the whites of her teeth showing as she gazed at the jellyfish, Jinu following in her footsteps. He gazed at the fish with her, wonder filling him as he looked and observed every pattern of the fish, every shape of the coral on the sand. His eyes stealing short glances at her everytime she let out a smile.

The loud mumble of the crowd faded once they reached a more secluded area.

Rumi let her hand press on the glass, her palms following the stingray’s slow strides through the water, Jinu following along, their footsteps gentle against the carpet.

He didn’t mean to look too long, but he did. Something about her, so unguarded in that moment, felt strangely fragile and strong all at once. And maybe, just maybe, if they weren’t on opposite sides, if he wasn’t controlled by Gwi-ma, he’d want to understand her more than he should.

“It really is amazing. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Yeah.” She mumbled. “My friends and I…we used to go to this place often. Well- if we weren’t caught up with Idol training” She scoffed.

“Really? You all must be close then..must be nice.” He replied, his eyes still on her.

“It is..Zoey’s the first one to show this place to us.” She hummed, a small brightness on her face, and Jinu couldn't help but observe the sincerity in it.

“You’re a good friend.” He discerned, his smile warm, as if reflecting off her own brightness.

“You know I’m not. I lie. I lied to them about this whole thing.” She scoffed, rolling up her sleeve to show her marks. “I hid them for so long- these- marks, scars, cracks- whatever they’re called! I just wish…”

She trailed off, mumbling to herself, the frown and thinking in her face prominent. She fiddled with the braids of her hair, untying the hair tie and smoothening her hair down as a means for comfort.

The strands of her lavender hair rested against her back, strands flowing to the front.

Goodness. She looked so different. So pretty. To him.

“You had good reason.” He chimed, full of warmth, eyes lingering on her. “Everyone lies a bit. Doesn’t make you less of a good friend.”

She finally looked at him, her eyes glancing upward. How could she not when she was hearing words she was secretly aching to hear? Comfort she’s been needing? And they were from him, announced by him so proudly.

Just days ago, she tried to kill him. Her instincts told her to question it, push away. Now he was sitting beside her, speaking like this, like he meant every work. And maybe he did. The way he looked at her: steady, unflinching, and honest. He didn’t seem like the same person she’d faced back then. So different from what was shown days ago.

Yet somehow, against all logic, she believed him.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She managed to move her head to a small nod, her eyes scanning his raven ones as she fiddled with the strands of her loose hair.

She blinked once, slowly, the corners of her lips tugging upward before she could stop them.

He drew closer, closing the distance. And normally she would have backed away, brought out her sword as a means of defense, but she stood still, his words and gentleness earlier simmering inside her.

His fingers brushed through her hair, collecting the nearest strand, placing it between his thumb and index.

“What are you doing?” She asked, a hint of confusion, yet there was no place for disfavor in her tone.

“Sorry if I’m being too close but, I’ve never seen you with your hair down like this.” He mumbled, barely a whisper, his gaze trailing to the strand of purple between his fingers, and back to her eyes.

“You should let your hair down sometimes, Rumi” He mumbled, a gentleness in his eyes, clashing with her surprised ones. His other hand reached down and took her hand in his. clasping it ever so gently. He hesitated a bit, his thumb gently tracing the demon marks on her hand.

“And I know you’re probably ashamed of the patterns on your skin. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re just as beautiful with the cracks showing.” His voice was almost lost in the low blue light, but she heard every word.

He continued tracing circles on her marks, the touch oddly soothing. But his eyes held so many thoughts he couldn’t say, not so soon. They were filled with admiration as he looked at her, his undivided attention as his eyes scanned her face.

He noticed her expression, the small warmth on her ears, the widening of her eyes, how they look back and forth between his own eyes.

Rumi took her here so he could experience something new, see things he never saw under the hongmoon, but at that moment he could only see her. His eyes lingered, glancing at her lips as his hands cupped her face, ever so gentle. The thread of his bracelet brushing against her cheek– the one the old lady gave them just yesterday.

Rumi chuckled, her eyes crinkling in amusement “You kept the bracelet?”

“Yeah of course. How could I not?” He mused, his lips turned to a smile as his head neared hers, his heart thumping. Was he reading too much into this? Was he going too fast?

He leaned in, not all at once, but enough to give her time to change her mind. But she didn’t. His lips brushed hers, soft and testing. Then certain. Warm.

They first met at night, how the crickets chirped, her brows furrow and her walls up

They met at dawn, how the peaks of sunrise hit her face, how they seemed to share a glimpse of understanding

Now they’re here, swallowed by the light of the sea, the waves of light matching the marks on her neck.

[flaneur001]

Happy Birthday Lycori

> Written for the lovely @hownecromantic

> I bring you Yandere!Conan, with his sinisterly gentle demeanor and kisses that imprint on your mind.

> Conan belongs to @14dayswithyou

> Tags- Mild nsfw, emotional and psychological manipulation, identity erosion

Placid pleasures

The evening was beautiful. Wrapped in that quiet, almost routine-like quality. The air in the living room felt alive—twirling, murmuring, teasing at the candle sitting between the two of you.

It carried the rush of blood thrumming in your ears, and the flow of the mellow conversation that hummed, watered down by the third nearly empty bottle of merlot.

Conan wasn’t dressed up, but he was different tonight.

His long fiery strands were neatly combed, softly parted, somehow still retaining that effortlessly windswept look. His sapphire eyes glinted like an ocean at noon, balmy, lulling, and if you looked closer, you could see the mirth that gathered on his lashes, as alcohol blinked awake and stretched in his system.

This Conan?

He was calm yet brazen, audaciously alluring. 

He held that undeniable pull—even when he sported a simple black button down and grey slacks. Wired metal glasses framed his gaze, completing his look, and you found yourself leaning on your elbows. 

The stretch of that small dining table, and the spread between you felt like a hindrance.

Everything was perfect—in that simple domesticity you spun to gold and made special. Not because it was your birthday. Not for the homemade treats, not even the strawberry cake. But for the man, smiling so lovingly at you. 

The chime of the grandfather clock in the corner, poignantly announced the hour. 

The hour you were both waiting for.

He rose then, pushing his chair back to grab the lighter. His eyes never left yours as he lit all the candles on the cake.

A simple strawberry cake with jagged frosting flowers on the border—the proud handiwork of Alice—and your name, in a soft cursive icing, elegantly sitting like a cherry flavoured hoax.

He handed you the knife, his grip lingering on your wrist, a little tight, as he guided your hand to cut a neat slice off the cake.

“Happy Birthday Darling”, Conan singsonged, feeding you a bite.

You chewed, wincing a smile as the flavor exploded on your tongue, rich and cloying. You were half of a mind to swat his hand away, but that intrusive thought vanished when he tilted your chin, and pulled you into a rough, demanding kiss.

Your lips worked against his like a conditioned response. Your heart slammed rapidly against your chest—as if trying to knock on your sanity’s door and jolt her awake.

 But when he slipped his tongue inside and tangled it around yours like a sinful vice, the final shreds of that urgent voice in your mind, left. With wet glittery traces down your cheek.

His hand tugged at your hair, his throat working as he swallowed your low moans, guiding you to the couch. 

Everything about this moment was surreal, but nothing was new. The dress clung to your skin, clawing at your spine. The dark strands of your hair looked strange, the heels scratched your feet in the way they do, when they’re a size too big.

Too big to fill.

As if they were someone else’s.

It was all too much—the makeup, the perfume choking your throat with that hauntingly floral scent, and the name on his lips.

Hers

It was all hers.

But you were too far gone. Swam too far into the waves of pleasure he was giving you, and drowned under the tide of his love.

So when Conan spun you gingerly, unzipping your dress, fingers mapping the plush of your skin—you closed your eyes. 

Because the ‘Happy Birthday mommy’ on the cake, written in cherry sauce had bled into your system like a poison curated especially for you. Because the necklace you wore clutched your jugular like a noose, tightening ever so slightly, and because the reflection in the mirror each day looked more like ‘Her’ and less like you.

Today?

Here he was, the man you loved with every pinched penny of your dignity, kissing down your skin as if he was manually rewriting everything that made you, you. Gently erasing your quirks, flaws and foibles with insistent, sensual touches of his fingers.

A squeeze here, a pinch there—and somewhere between a gasp and a mewl, you didn't correct him when he called you by her name. Again.

You were being molded into a living relic, shaped by every deep thrust of his hips against yours.

And you gladly abandoned yourself, just like that.

Just as he touched his forehead to yours, his hot breath glossing over your lips, entwined so intimately.

And his eyes—

They were burning. An icy storm that spoke more than his words ever did.

“I love you”, He whispered.

And you knew it was for the ghost of her that now lived in your bones.

“I love you more,” you whispered back. 

Quietly

Devastatingly, as you pulled him down into a kiss.

The evening air warped around you, laced with the scent of sweat, passion, and something suspiciously benign. You surrendered to the throes of ecstasy, willing every caution to wait while he celebrated you.

Besides, what more could you ask for?

Happiness, wine, and a man that you could call ‘Mine’

It was a special day indeed.

Happy birthday to Her You!

[pinkmirth]

he’s the cutest boy ever >.<

[minne-cerbinna]

Sometimes I am reminded of the fact that Iorveth just like canonically has very pretty eyes (or very pretty eye 😔).

In TW2, none of the men have eyelashes while the women do. As examples for the men, we have Geralt himself, Letho, Dandelion, and Roche:

And as examples for the women, Triss, Saskia, Sheala/Síle, Philippa, and Mottle.

However, Iorveth does have eyelashes on his in-game model:

This is unique to him, not an elven trait, because as we can see on Cedric, Ciaran, and Ele'yas, they don't have eyelashes like Iorveth does:

And it's not a fluke or graphical glitch on Iorveth, either, he consistently has them throughout the game:

He's just really pretty like that.

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[tonycries]

SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.

Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pórnstar! reader, pórnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibítionism, breéding, Geto’s tattoos, Geto’s PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREÉSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vóyeurísm, Geto gets one taste is PÚSSYDRÚNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spítting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PÚRE SMUT, húmping, matíng presses, semi-public, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k (woah)

A/N. Have a lovely week <3

“Ch-chin up, honey–” Geto’s drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. “Let the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.”

You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, “Like this, Sugu?”

And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones. 

“Y-yeah, got that right.” he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- “So you can listen, brat.”

Damn. Geto’s already sure he’d stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure he’d forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-

CUT!

Shit.

He had a feeling this would happen.

Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact. 

Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques he’d rake in easily.

And you?

That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him. 

“Sorry-” Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. “M’still new to this, so I think it was my fault.”

Yeah, ruining him. 

“Not at all. S’cute.” Geto’s plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, he’s thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, “Besides, don’t worry yourself, pretty lady. I don’t think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.”

And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what it’d feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the director’s clapping a hand down on Geto’s broad shoulder. 

“Suguru- my star! What happened back there?” the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldn’t last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at today’s shooting.

It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasn’t even fucking you today-

“Nothing.”

“Are we sure-”

“Nothing.” Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, “I won’t fumble next time. Promise.”

But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like he’s about to lose it.

“Said you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?” he’s leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.

He’d heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being so…so addictive. 

Of course, he’s going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.

You’re gifting him with a bratty huff, “I’ve only been making videos for a few months, y’know? So I’ve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-” 

And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. “-so big.”

Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already. 

Hissing, “S-save it for the camera, honey.”

“Okay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.” A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and he’s settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. “ACTION!”

“Messing up such an important mission, hm?” Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, “Y’know there’s only one way to make up for it, right, honey?”

Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, “Wh-what do I hafta-”

And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldn’t last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - he’s shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips. 

Unapologetically.

Filthily.

God…it was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.

Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue. 

And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Geto’s body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-

“Shit.” he gasps. “Shit shit shit shit-” Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, “Take it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.”

God, he didn’t know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same. 

Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. “Heh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.”

And he’s giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock. 

Struggling. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had.

Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth. 

You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, “S-Sugu-”

Fuck. 

Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as you’re tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. It’s glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head. 

“Mhm–” he’s drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, “Suck on my ah- tip- c’mon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?”

With a smug smirk, he’s guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didn’t even have to bother.

Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck. 

“Spit.”

“S’this-” you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, “S’this good, sir?”

Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for real 

“Hmmm, dunno.” His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, “Jus’ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- c’mon.”

Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Geto’s so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls. 

“Heh, think I prefer ya like this-” he’s restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. “-all pliant, n’ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.” Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. “All mine.”

Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life. 

Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.

And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.

Barely even registering the way it’ll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.

Letting it overspill. 

“Heh, fuck-” Geto’s tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when he’s bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, “Wish I could fuck you- god, I would-”

He’s cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection. 

In urgent moves, Geto’s pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.

Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses. 

This wasn’t in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.

Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and he’s sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-

“Tell yer agent-” he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. “-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.”

CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!

37 million views 1.5 million likes

Top comments:

satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱

unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO

hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?

tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree

---

Now, it wasn’t normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting and…research his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture you’d blessed his obscene mind with.

You.

An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid. 

Everybody wanted you.

And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind. 

Shit, he’s thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-

DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

That should be him.

The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-

Shit, that should be him.

Holding back a low moan, “Fuck-” he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. “God- m’so fuckin’ hard-”

He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to right about now - the audience, or you. 

But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.

“S’all because of y-you, y’know?” he’s gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. “Why’d you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.”

God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.

Over and over.

God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

He’s panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping. 

Geto’s never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. It’s all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.

Yet, they do, anyway.

“M-make me so fuckin’ horny, honey-” he’s swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. “Such a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.”

Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Geto’s mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Toji’s fat cock. He’d been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldn’t help but muse whether you’d take him that well, too. 

Would you cry out and beg for more? 

Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?

You were…you were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you. 

You you you you-

Geto’s wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, “I’d ruin ya, y’know?” Geto chokes out, and he doesn’t even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. “Would make ya shut up on m’cock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.”

God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up you’d usually see on Geto’s promotional tweets. 

And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that you’d like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.

“Fuck- fuck.” Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- “Look what you do- look how you’ve got me- fuck-”

He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto can’t stop even if he wanted to. 

And the more he thought about you the more-

“Oh h-honey-” One of Geto’s thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “M’gonna cum hah- m’gonna cum, okay? You’ll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-”

And it’s just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Geto’s spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.

He’s fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. It’s making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot. 

He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.

God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if they’d been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.

Fuck, wishing it was your hand.

Wishing you were here.

All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then he’d swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-

Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Geto’s breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now. 

He does, actually.

Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.

Yet, he doesn’t even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.

Doesn’t even register until he’s pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about “promo for your upcoming video” with every few hasty clicks on-screen.

Geto posts.

And he doesn’t even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.

Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.

@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen

2.6 million views 364k likes

Top replies:

moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!! 

tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.

ScreenQueen: <3

---

“Y’look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Gojo’s angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldn’t capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. “Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

“Heh-” The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojo’s plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. “Don’t I know.”

hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~

444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE

chocho: she’s so…beautiful 

*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*

If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.

Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.

His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress he’d been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.

Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojo’s cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldn’t do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. “G-gojo-”

Smack!

All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto can’t help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle. 

Gojo’s tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where he’s leering down at you. “Now now, you’re s’pposed to look at hah- me.” he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. “And what was it I told ya to call me?”

“T-To-”

Smack!

“Louder.”

“Toru!” you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-

“Such a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.” His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, “Does sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?”

And Gojo’s not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants. 

Addictive…you were so addictive. 

And he’s almost jealous that he’d introduced you to him on this stream.

Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, “Hmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-”

“Such a dog ya are-” Gojo’s rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Geto’s letting out a roughened growl, “Dontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.”

“Mhm–” you’re crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojo’s sheer mercy. 

Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate. 

Peppering damp pecks along Gojo’s innocently pink lips, “S-so mean, Sugu.”

“Ya hear that?” Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Geto’s lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- “Our girl says you’re a meanie, Sugu~”

candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDD 

k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here

pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??

And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojo’s jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Geto’s way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities. 

“Fuck that.” he’s spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, that’s when you know he’s serious. And one of Geto’s fingers smack! away Gojo’s, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. “Open.”

Fuck, it’s just about all that you can do.

Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva. 

Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He could’ve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.

But, no, he’s speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, “Now, would you care to repeat- that?”

Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Geto’s hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him. 

You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!

Smack!

“C’mon now, sweetheart~” Gojo’s slow tut makes you squeal. “S’not nice to leave someone hah- hanging.”

Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, you’re struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. “M’m-sorry-”

“That’s not what I asked-” his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. “Tell me what you said.”

“S-said-” you’re sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojo’s ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Geto’s thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. “-said you were m-mean hngh- didn’t mean i-it ah fuck-”

“Are you sure?”

“You really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.”

“Tch, shut up-” And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. “-at least I’m gonna be the one t-to make her cum.”

Gojo’s rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. “No I will.”

“As if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jus’ to capture how gorgeous she is.”

Both Gojo and Geto’s lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take. 

He’s bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.

Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. “Heh, if ya really mean it then cum f’me, honey.”

Fuck- then, you do.

It’s hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck. 

Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.

His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Geto’s. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. “My good girl- good- hah- fuckin’ girl.”

“Awww. Look, Suguru-” The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. “Ya really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.”

Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. He’s tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. “Well, I also made her cum.”

“Hah? No way, that was me-”

“I’ll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.”

#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

51 million views 4.8 million likes

Top donors:

unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (she’s so lucky me next)

honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM

king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and i’d show her a better time.

---

God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.

Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin. 

And especially not filming with him.

A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt. 

To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him. 

Anything but this-

“-c’mon- just one night, baby-” Naoya’s purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. “Promise I’ll have you seeing stars.”

When he didn’t even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agent’s reputation, if anything else. 

Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, “I think we spent more than enough time together on-set.”

With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didn’t even know where you were going, at this point. 

But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else. 

Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra you’d worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out. 

You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, “Playin’ hard to get isn’t cute, y’know. Just give in-”

SWAT!

“Excuse me-” You’re grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoya’s sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, “-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.”

“W-wait-”

But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to. 

SLAM!

The door closes. Hard. 

And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.

Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?

It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that you’d shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you weren’t alone-

“Oh!” you gasp. And you don’t even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you. 

Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-

“Cat got yer pretty tongue, honey?”

“Wh-wha-” you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how you’ve seen everything already. “Cat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?”

He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re complaining, though?”

“You’re too much.”

Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. “Besides- I was here first- helping out ol’ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?” Lips quirking attractively upwards, “Wanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?”

You did.

“You wish.” 

You’re rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because you’re already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours. 

Close. 

With a gulp, you’re careening back against the velvety walls. “More like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.”

So close. 

“Ah.” Geto’s nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, “Need me to beat him-”

You cut him off, “No no no-” Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didn’t want him to leave right now. “I took care of it, anyway.”

“That’s my girl.” 

And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Geto’s greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. “Then I guess, my next question is…”

God, he’s so mean.

So teasing.

Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed. 

Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel. 

Down, down, down.

“-did he take care of you?”

You’re stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, “H-he didn’t make me-”

Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. “Make you what?”

“-didn’t make me cum!”

And oh, those words changed everything.

“Then I guess I better make up for my colleague’s incompetence, right?”

Because not only did they have Geto Suguru’s sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.

“So flimsy.” he’s raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. “Yet it still wasn’t broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?”

“Please- D-don’t tease-”

What did you even mean to say- don’t tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldn’t get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss. 

A French kiss.

“Shhh- better keep ‘er quiet f’me, gorgeous-” he’s chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didn’t- Geto didn’t fucking care. “Because m’not going easy on you.”

And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, he’s drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.

Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, he’s curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes. 

“G-Geto–” he’s quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck he’s never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, “So mean, y’know that?”

Oh, you little minx. Geto’s brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-

And he can’t help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.

A warning. 

“What was that?” he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. “If I’m so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?” Wild eyes locked with yours - you’ve never seen this look anywhere in Geto’s films. Anywhere. “Wouldn’t wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-”

Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idol’s nerves. But you’d never have expected the effect that it would have.

Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.

He wasn’t easing you in.

He wasn’t showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldn’t sink into your pretty pussy. 

Groaning, one of Geto’s splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-

“Ngh- fuck!” Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. “Fuck that feels so good-”

“I know-” he’s smirking up at you. “N’ it sounds like e-everyone out there s’gonna know, too- heh. I don’t mind.”

God, that’s when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare. 

“L-look who’s talking-”

Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches he’s reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. “S’not my fault your p-pretty pussy’s so talkative, honey.”

“G-Geto-”

“Shhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?”

You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Geto’s rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices. 

They’re swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling. 

To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.

“Heheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.” He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. “Hold on- got an idea.”

Fuck. 

An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.

And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, he’s reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Geto’s rawly rubbed pink lips. 

One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking. 

More. 

“Heh, you’re the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-”

“L-lucky me-” you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesn’t look like he’s anywhere but heaven. “It feels- so so- mmpf-”

Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-

“Heheh- what did I say-” he’s dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. “Quiet, honey- be quiet f’me like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?”

Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate. 

He’s so sloppy. So loud. 

He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that it’s dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.

And he’s forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it. 

“C’mon, my pretty lady-” Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- “Can ya hear that?”

Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.

You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, “G-geto–”

Closer.

“S’alright s’alright-” he’s snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasn’t two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. “-jus’ cum f’me. Cum f’me, honey.”

Your cunt was so sensitive. You’re whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- “M’gonna cum, Geto- so close. M’gonna- m’gonna-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, you’re cumming all over Geto’s pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.

And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldn’t he?

Not when this is all that he’s been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously he’s fucking you through your high.

“Oh- oh, honey— ” The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. “Tha’s right- use me- use me.”

Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, he’s dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey- ya in here?”

Click! In an instant, Geto’s long arm span is reached over to lock the door. 

And god, Naoya’s voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadn’t been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is. 

You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, “Only one in here’s me, fuck off.”

Only then comes the sputtering, “Wh-why I’d never-”

“Unless ya want your lil’ idol Toji to hear about how you’ve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.”

It’s barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Geto’s hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another,  gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. “Don’t you worry-” Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, “M’gonna ruin him.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remember something else you’d said about that very man just earlier. Something about a date…as if.

“Kiss me- kiss me kiss me please-” Geto’s mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- “Fuck- s-suck-” Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. “N’ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if you’d like- wanna make a movie-”

“Yes.”

Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.

LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.

Employee count - 1 

“Fuck- fuck-” Ichiji’s struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when he’s rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. “Oh god- m’gonna get f-fired-”

Again.

And again.

And again and-

“Shit-” he’s shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. “-she really is a screen queen.”

---

Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemade…movie. 

Not exactly something that he’d tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because he’d been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now. 

Yeah…totally not.

So he planned.

And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way he’s been dreaming of. Humming, “You ready?”

Well, everything except-

“G-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-”

Shit, that was the last thing on Geto’s mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.

Everything he needed.

But no fucking camera.

Oh. 

“Shit.” he’s chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. He’s scratching behind his neck, “We can st-”

“No-” And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer. 

But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, “The Screen Queen doesn’t want to be on screen? How shocking.”

But it wasn’t.

God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - he’d already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now. 

He’s nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. “How do you want me?”

And all you can say is- “I just want you-”

Swat!

The rounded tips of Gojo’s fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, “You a-always say the sweetest things, honey.”

You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Geto’s dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly. 

And he’s groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene. 

“Tell me, pretty baby–” His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. “-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or s’it jus’ for me?” But you’re only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he can’t help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside- 

He doesn’t have to bother waiting long.

Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.

But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isn’t buried inside your cunt might make him die-

“C’mon c’mon c’mon-” he’s hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. “Take it- please, please take it-”

Geto can’t keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. It’s like it was never-ending. 

“Shit-” your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. “I-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-”

He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and he’s not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, he’d just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit. 

“Suguru-” he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. “P-please if you can call that hah- fuckass ‘Satoru’, then call me Suguru, please-”

It’s all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy “Sugu-”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-

Smack! 

Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.

“Don’t- don’t run-” Geto’s sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- “Fuck, where’d you think you’re going, huh, honey?”

His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Geto’s fat cock. 

And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk. 

“M’m-not running away-” you’re pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he can’t help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. “You’re just s-so big- bigger than on camera-”

Fuck.

You would’ve shut your babbling mouth sooner if you’d known what would happen.

Because the rotund edges of Geto’s cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after he’s finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall. 

“God- y’really know how to drive me c-crazy-” Geto’s dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost don’t notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, “N’ move that hand- fuck- m’gonna fuck that outta ya.”

And he does. 

The mattress creaks in loud protests when he’s pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - he’s feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. “Such a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it t’myself-”

God, he’s wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.

Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. “Tie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.”

All you can do is blink back the wall of tears that’d made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Geto’s thin, black hair tie. 

But you didn’t expect it to be so difficult. 

Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, he’s planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.

And one look up into Geto’s half-lidded eyes told you one thing…he was doing this on purpose. 

Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. “I’m onto you, sir-”

Fuck.

Fuck, maybe you were threatening.

He didn’t expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didn’t expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, “I have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.”

And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Geto’s sloppy cadence. 

Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.

“Do it-” His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. “-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but you’re my slut, arentcha?”

God, it’s like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.

And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside. 

Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even realize existed. 

So merciless that he’s slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - you’re being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.

Over and over-

“Wanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-” your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. “Please-”

He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- “Heh, maybe t-tie my hair properly n’ I’ll let ya cum- you know s’a staple of my hngh- videos.”

So infuriating, it makes you clench.

That sleazy grin plastered across Geto’s face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-

“Hngh- n’ you call me the rookie-” Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.

“God, you’re in for it-” he’s spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. “You’re in- hah- you’re sooo in for it-”

But then Geto sees white - and so do you.

Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea.  And you don’t even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now. 

Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, they’d be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck. 

Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.

And there’s so much. 

Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.

He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where you’d been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way he’d done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-

No, it makes him whimper.

“Still haven’t hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.” Geto’s mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, “Either you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time n’ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.”

A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[madamechrissy]

Emperor! Gojo headcanons/ story preview

Fic is now here <3

pairings- Emperor! Gojo x arranged! Empress reader

summary- you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either.

warnings - mentions of sex with multiple concubines, Gojo is a pretentious little shit, reader has a past love she left behind, oral sex (m and f receiving) teasing, lots of sexual tension, eventually gonna be mutual pining, gonna have a lot of angst, and smut

this is a birthday gift for my bestie @strychnynegirl hope you enjoy baby!!

Emperor! Gojo who loves all of his pretty concubines equally, he loves to please them, to tease them, to fill them up. To be a concubine of Satoru Gojo's was the utmost position in the empire, women fought hard to climb the ranks for such a chance. Satoru recently took over the position after his father passed away, and has pushed off marriage proposals left and right, why not just have fun with all his beautiful ladies?

Emperor! Gojo however is now being forced into marriage, he's played a foolish bachelor too long, and the higher ups have brought a perfect match from another land, a young princess who has been brought here just for him. Gojo is completely uninterested in meeting her, why should he be excited, the duties of being an emperor were taxing enough without having to meet some stranger and have to sleep with her, have babies with her. He ignores the meeting he's supposed to attend in favor of spending time with his favorite concubines at once, quite scandalous even for an Emperor.

Emperor! Gojo is a stranger to you as well, as you sit there sipping tea, your ladies in waiting are strangers, everyone you knew was back home, and here you are, made a fool of. There are whispers amongst them all, you can hear them as your teacup clinks on the little ceramic dish, and Emperor Gojo's mother comes in to apologize for his absence. She's a beautiful lady, you wonder if he looks like her errantly, but smile in a feigned politeness, nodding along. After all, it's not as if you were looking forward to this either.

Emperor! Gojo takes a bath with all his women, when you decide to join the bathhouse after quite a long time without one, your mind drifting to the boy you loved when you were forced to leave your home. You remember your kisses, your promises, and the moment you got sent away here, with a man who's currently being fed grapes in the clear bath waters by many women. They're giggling, touching him, and you barely see him as your attendant helps you undress.

Emperor! Gojo has brilliant blue eyes that catch you across the enormous, steamy bathhouse then - he's pausing as he sees you, just wearing a thin white slip of material, curious just who you are. You take some of the soap you've brought, and your attendant washes your hair while he can't take his eyes off you, your curves in that thin material, the way the smooth skin of your thighs is lit up but the lanterns above. You're so beautiful he must know who you are.

Emperor! Gojo feels his mouth go dry when you step into those waters now, standing a bit so that he sees the full outline of your breasts, making his cock twitch under the water, he can't focus on anything but how those droplets of water fall from your skin as you methodically wash yourself. You peer at him just a bit, before lowering your lashes, when he can't help but look at one of his favorite girls, asking - 'who is she?'

Emperor! Gojo doesn't get an answer, no one knows what you look like yet, so he assumes you must be one of the new girls in a position to become a concubine. and fuck if he wouldn't love that opportunity, imagining fucking a baby into you ruins him then. One of his major duties is to have as many babies as he can, to strengthen the empire of course. Yet he tends to be a little apprehensive, he dares to admit he doesn't cum in any of the concubines yet, he doesn't know if he wants children right away. He's young, but of course the pressure is there, and he knows it will be soon, especially with him having to marry. He shoves that annoying thought away.

Emperor! Gojo was supposed to meet his wife today, should he feel bad? maybe. Does he? no, he does not. He steps away and walks across the water, giving you a good look at him then, his chiseled body, narrow torso, pale skin glimmering under the warmth of the room. The stream rises as you look slowly up his body, carved like a statue, then finally make it to his face, truly beautiful. He does look like his mother, those white locks with just a hint of lavender, the beautiful blue eyes even more intense than hers, his body glistening as he walks closer, plump vermilion lips curved in a smile as he murmurs a - 'hello, there, are you new here?'

Emperor! Gojo has a reputation of being kind and fair, though on the battlefield he was ruthless, tales of him were regaled worldwide, and you knew of his military prowess of course. You tremble just a bit as he gets closer, his eyes slipping down your body like a caress. 'I am new here, your majesty' he smiles now. 'No need to be so formal,' the emperor brushes a hand across your hair, marveling in the silkiness now. 'Are you here to be a concubine? I assure you, I have a position opening very soon' he acts as if that's a compliment, as if you should be thrilled your husband to be is willing to fuck a stranger while he ignores your meeting. But you smile, shaking your head. 'ah, you're mysterious, hmm?'

Emperor! Gojo is enamored when he touches you under the water, big hand on the small of your back, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit. 'You know who I am?' you nod a bit, biting your lip when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. one of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, it feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you? You bite back a sigh when he leans down, an arm on either side of you.

Emperor! Gojo murmurs the words - 'so fucking pretty, god,' and earns your blush, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours. 'Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?' when you say it he immediately recognizes it, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide. You smile, meanly then, batting your lashes. 'was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, hmm? I see you were otherwise occupied' you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. 'It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey on ship, you know.'

Emperor! Gojo sputters, eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment. 'You're my... you can't be... you...' a sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back. 'Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting. I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one,' you turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down. No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down!? yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel. 'Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty'

Emperor! Gojo is wracked with confusion, part of him doesn't even believe you, concubines were known for their beauty and assets, but wives were much different. They were always from some long line of weak women, usually only there for their duty, his own mother was quite an exception, but her and his father never loved each other. He hoped himself to never have to marry, but now he feels just the smallest twinge of guilt for not meeting you. Even for him it was quite the talk, he could hear the rumors of how he doesn't have interest in his bride to be as he walks through the corridors of his opulent estates.

Emperor! Gojo sees glimpses of you here and there that week, but you bow and say no words to him, avoiding him until it is your wedding day. And to say you were beautiful before, now it leaves him speechless, throat dry as you were those beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body. He's wearing his thick dark blue sokutai, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do. His heart hammers as you clutch your hands together, feeling the stoic eyes of so many on you. You focus on the tall, handsome man that clearly doesn't want this any more than you do, stepping closer and closer, until you're in front of him.

Emperor! Gojo is still reeling when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, he places his lips on one end of the little dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips. Your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, blush along your precious cheeks. Precious, why did he think that? the thought irritates him, when you two continue the ceremony. Soon, it's night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono, loosely tied, walking over to your chambers now and entering them, seeing you sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. 'You may go,' he orders her, the doors shutting with a loud echo as he inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit.

Emperor! Gojo has a husky tone as he says your name, and you stand up now, wearing just a thin blue robe, he can see your breasts rising and falling with your breath, as the two of you stand across the room. 'The sooner I have a baby, the less you'll have to see me, or do this,' you say then, shocking him. His mouth opens, then closes as he smirks at you. 'And you think that you know how that's done?' you tilt your head just a bit, letting your robes fall then, covered in nothing, completely bare for his eyes. His breaths come far too quickly, heat rising on his cheeks. He's been with countless women, but nothing prepared him for this, for you, when you step up to him slowly, a hand on his chest. 'Should I prepare you, your majesty?'

Emperor! Gojo is furiously blushing now, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, he tries to save face, trembling as your fingers dance across the silk of his robe. 'you think you're adequate at it?' he says then, you smile just a bit. 'I've had instruction on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it,' he laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes his tie, and he's just in a fundoshi, showing his cock straining while his robes land on the floor. 'Let's see it, then,' he gasps when you're on your knees, glaring as he thinks that maybe you've done this before, and why should that bother him!?

Emperor! Gojo has his cock free then, slapping his stomach as it does, thick and already hard from just seeing you, you bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops. 'I thought I'd have to get you in this state? the books didn't mention it being ready...' he glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it, calling out his desperation. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that. 'Let's see what you've learned, hmm?' you're stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists, as you suck him into your mouth, deeper and deeper, his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth then.

Emperor! Gojo has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, your suction, the way your tongue swirls, as he fucks your throat deeper and deeper, moaning. But mostly, those eyes looking up at him. He's whispering filthy things - 'slutty fucking throat' - then sweet things - 'doing s'good, sweetheart...' a conundrum of a man. You feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect, snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, while you taste him, hands pressing on his muscled thighs. He pulls you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth. 'Was I not adequate?' he laughs without humor, standing you up now. 'Not adequate?' he is lifting you and slamming his lips on yours, tasting himself, before carrying you on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes.

Emperor! Gojo has elegant long fingers, they slip down your body as he feels it tremble, fingers touching your slick cunt then. You gasp as he kisses down one of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth, moaning and rutting his cock on the silk blankets as you cry out. 'Your majesty, you don't need to do all of that, just... get it done,' your words make him pause, looking up and seeing you then, lips swollen from his kisses. He pauses and looks down your body, dying to be inside you, but your words fuck him then. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, and you were just 'doing your duty'. He pulls back then, raising a brow at you. 'Do I need to suck you more?' he shakes his head, clearing his throat then - 'tonight, we will not consummate the marriage' - the words hurt you deeply. 'did I displease you?'

Emperor! Gojo doesn't know what it is, but the thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. He shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion, when he kisses down your tummy, watching it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock. 'Are you untouched?' he asks, you blush then. 'I have not lain with a man, no, but I'm not untouched.' Satoru's furious anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment, he surely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin. In fact he prefers experience, but when he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly, the prettiest one he's seen. 'Your majesty, that's not... in the books!? ah!'

Emperor! Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit then, smirking against your cunt as your mouth is wide. 'Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,' he laps up your slit again, and you whine out, gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in. 'I'll have you cum on my face tonight,' his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him, moaning as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your tiny hole, holding your thighs apart. You're lost in how good it feels, you've cum before but never have you done this, felt this, so intense, so much pressure. You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt.

Emperor! Gojo almost cums from just this, he's never enjoyed this so much, he can't help but pay attention to every little thing. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, he clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth. 'ah! y-your majesty!' he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, for now he just devours your pussy, until you shatter. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing, pleasure making you dizzy, blinded. Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt, smirking down at you now, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess. 'a lot of talk, I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart'

Emperor! Gojo is getting up then, as you catch your breath, sitting up and looking at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, embarrassingly coated with your slick. 'And where will you go, your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then, leaning low, tilting your chin up as you look at him. 'would that bother you, sweetheart?' you shake your head, it can't bother you, it shouldn't, this will be your life now. 'Ah, you're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know,' he turns and walks away then, leaving you alone, to contemplate it all.

Just who was Emperor! Gojo!?

hehe I hope ya'll enjoy I can't wait to finish up a couple stories and get to this (or be chaotic and do it anyway lmaoo)

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[sinkuna]

୨୧ — "Cant sleep," Gojo announces at 2 AM, his white hair adorably mussed as he stands in your doorway.

"Me either," you admit, trying not to stare at how his sleep shirt clings to his lean muscles… and before you can protest, he's already pushing into your room.

"I know!" he claps his hands together, "lets build a pillow fort!" Once again, before you can question him or protest, Gojo Satoru is already stripping your bed of its blankets and pillows. His energy truly didn’t know any bounds, and it was almost infectious as he constructed walls- hung fairy lights he seemingly produced from nowhere. It was almost like he had planned for this.

Inside the soft cocoon of blankets, his usual playful side slowly melts away. The loss of his best friend Geto was weighing on him heavily tonight, it showed in how desperately he pulls you close.

"Stay with me, don’t ever think about leaving’ me…" he whispers against your lips, his kisses needy and deep for once. His hands gripping your hips in a possessive way that screams ‘I don’t want to be alone’ as he grinds slowly against you.

"I'm here, Satoru," you breathe, feeling him shudder at his given name. His fingers bite into your skin almost painfully, a way for him to anchor himself to you.

When he reaches for the condom in his pocket, he suddenly hesitates… Those sky-like eyes meeting yours for a split second before darting away, the sweetest pink hue crossing his beautiful features.

"Let’s not use protection this time," he mumbles, voice uncharacteristically uncertain... Long white lashes fluttering as he blinks, "I know, I know- it's selfish," he continues, pressing his forehead to yours, "But I keep thinking, what if..." His voice trails off…

And for the first time, the infamous Gojo Satoru looks almost fragile.

Those carefully built walls crumbling before you as he shares what’s been on his mind, "A reason to come home," he breathes, "Someone waiting... tiny feet running down my hallways instead of just ghosts and memories."

Your heart aches at how young and innocent he suddenly looks… this powerful man- the strongest sorcerer, wanting nothing more than a future filled with love rather than loss.

"Whatever happens..." he whispers against your lips, hips pressing into yours, "happens..."

"Okay~," you whisper back, pulling him closer. His whole body relaxing- melting into you at your acceptance.

One of his large hands span your stomach, already imagining it swollen with his child, "I realized the other day that I want to give you everything... want to come home to you both..."

"Everyone leaves," he murmurs brokenly between heated kisses. "Can't lose you to..."

"Never," you promise as he rocks against you, his usual confidence stripped away leaving just Satoru- young and afraid of being alone.

Your legs wrap tighter around him as he moves against you, his usual cockiness replaced by raw need and hope. For once, the strongest sorcerer isn't thinking about power or victory- his usual cockiness gone in this moment, replaced by genuine feelings of the possibility of creating something beautiful instead of destruction.

"Please," he begs, voice cracking, "Let me give you- give us this... let me have something to protect..."

In the safety of your pillow fort, surrounded by twinkling lights, you hold him close as he seeks more than just physical pleasure. He's seeking a future where love outweighs loss, where coming home means more than empty victories.

His kisses grow more desperate as you arch beneath him, both of you chasing not just release but the promise of tomorrow. Tonight, in this soft haven of blankets and fairy lights, Gojo Satoru isn't the strongest sorcerer- he's just a young man dreaming of a future filled with love instead of ghosts.

Prt 2. │ ⋆｡˚꒰ঌ 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ໒꒱˚｡⋆

[sixeyesonathiel]

finally birthing male manipulator satoru with girl failure reader wwww

gojo satoru was used to getting what he wanted.

and he wanted you.

not in some deep, profound way—god, no. not at first. it started as a game. a challenge. a passing amusement that piqued his interest one random thursday morning when you stammered out an apology after bumping into his desk, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. he watched you trip over your own words, clutch your pen like a lifeline, and tuck your legs up onto the chair like you could shrink out of existence if you tried hard enough.

prime target. textbook girlfailure behavior. he could spot it from a mile away.

this was supposed to be easy.

he’d start small. nothing too intense. just a little white knight routine—softboy edition. give you just enough attention to get you spinning. love-bomb in casual doses. trauma-dump-lite over late-night fries. maybe let his voice go quiet and vulnerable one evening and say, “you remind me of someone i cared about.” glance away, bite his lip, look just the right amount of broken. play the victim just enough to make you feel like you had to fix him.

he’d make you think he saw you. that he understood you.

except you, with your messy hair and oversized hoodie sleeves pulled over twitchy fingers, dodged every single one of his perfectly curated attempts like your avoidant attachment style was running military-grade defense protocols.

“you okay, sweetheart?” he asked one afternoon, leaning a little too close to your desk, silver hair slightly tousled, reading glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, his voice low and silky. lips curved into a smile that’d made stronger girls fold. “you looked a little sad today. i worry about you sometimes.”

you blinked up at him, lashes fluttering like you couldn’t believe he was talking to you. your throat worked around a half-swallowed gulp. then your face shifted. shutters slammed down. you forced a grin, lopsided and sharp around the edges.

“yeah, i’m just like this. it’s seasonal depression, but, y’know… year-round. i’m fine.”

you said it so matter-of-factly. like he was asking about the weather.

satoru froze, his hand briefly twitching near his glasses as he pushed them up slowly, searching for meaning in a world that had suddenly gone sideways.

what the actual hell.

okay. maybe you needed more.

he started sitting next to you in class. always coincidentally. elbows brushing, knees knocking. his thigh warm where it grazed yours. he sent you memes at 1:37 a.m. with captions like “us fr?” and “ur literally me,” despite you barely replying to half of them. he offered his jacket when the AC kicked on and watched the way you hesitated, blushed, and then said, “i run on spite, not warmth.”

and then, the pièce de résistance:

“i just feel like… you’re different,” he said one evening outside the library. the campus was quiet, sky the kind of inky navy that made everything feel more cinematic. he stood with hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, a calculated slouch, glasses slightly askew, hair falling across his forehead. his voice dipped low, coaxing. “everyone else is so fake. but you? you’re real. you’ve got this… broken, beautiful thing going on.”

you tilted your head. stared. then squinted at him like he was a suspiciously priced antique. “did you get that line off tiktok?”

he flinched.

bro.

he ran a hand through his hair. a slow, dramatic drag of fingers. girls walking by giggled. he didn’t look up. he was malfunctioning.

he was trying. actually trying. not just running a script. not just playing games. he was pulling every page from the softboy manipulator playbook and rewriting it with style. the gaslight-gatekeep-girlboss starter pack, optimized for 2025.

and still. you met his carefully calculated charm with self-deprecating jokes, sarcasm, and the kind of deadpan delivery that made him question if he was losing it.

“you should save that line for someone without warranty issues,” you said, staring at him with a crooked little smile. “i come pre-broken.”

he left that encounter walking in slow motion, hoodie sleeves dragged over his hands, mouth set in a pout. if a sad indie movie montage started playing around him, he wouldn’t have questioned it.

here’s the thing, though: you liked him.

it was obvious.

he saw it in the way your gaze flickered to his mouth when he talked. the way your fingers curled tight around your notebook when he leaned in too close. the way your breath hitched just slightly when he used your name in a sentence. you were down bad.

but you were also your own worst enemy.

years of romantic misfires and silent yearning had turned you into a master of avoidance. you would rather make a joke about your emotional damage than let someone touch your heart. rather ghost your feelings than face them.

and it was frying his entire nervous system.

one night, 2:14 a.m., satoru lay on his bed staring at your latest post: a blurry picture of your cat with the caption “me.” it had two likes.

he stared at it longer than any man should. took a screenshot. set it as his lock screen for five minutes. unironically laughed.

then groaned and stuffed his face into his pillow.

“no,” he muttered. “no. she’s the one who canceled our group study session with ‘sorry i’m busy disappointing my ancestors.’”

and yet.

he kept thinking about the way your voice dropped to a whisper when you didn’t think anyone was listening. the way you fiddled with your sleeves when you were nervous. how you always sat at the edge of a group like you weren’t sure you belonged there.

you never clung to him. never fed into his savior complex. never let him be the one who "fixed" you.

and for some reason, that made him want to try harder.

not because it was a game anymore. because… well. because you were infuriating. weird. unpredictable. not like the others. god, maybe you were even kind of funny.

whatever. it wasn’t that deep.

gojo satoru: male manipulator dodged by the one girl who wanted him back… just enough to sabotage it.

and now he’s the one thinking way too hard about someone who won’t even sit next to him two days in a row.

he doesn’t like you.

he just… finds you interesting.

that’s all.

shut up.

[wonsiwon]

s.jy

synopsis | after a big argument with jake, your clingy and overly sensitive boyfriend, aka golden retriever, finds it impossible to handle the distance. and let’s face it, who can resist a teary-eyed, overly affectionate guy who’s one step away from curling up in your lap?

pairing | clingyboyfriend! jake x fem! reader

genre | fluff

jake was the kind of person who felt everything too much. it wasn’t a bad thing, he just had a heart so soft it bruised too easily. he was sensitive in a way that made him beautiful, like he carried every emotion so deeply it became a part of him. and when he loved, he loved hard. clingy, desperate, like he didn’t know how to exist without the people he cared about.

he was clingy too, always needing to be close, to touch, to hold. he followed you around the house like a lost puppy, watching you with those big, pleading eyes. he never liked distance, never liked silence between you.

and right now the house was too quiet. not in a peaceful way, but in that heavy, suffocating way that settled after an argument. you both said things you didn’t mean, and he ended up crying. jake always cried during fights. he hated it, tried so hard to hold it back, but he could never help it.

you were sitting on the couch, watching a movie, one you had been watching with him before everything went wrong. your eyes were glued to the screen, pretending to care about what was happening on it, but really, you couldn’t focus.

then you heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. you didn’t look up, keeping your gaze fixed on the screen, you knew it was jake. you already saw his messy hair from the corner of your eye, his face poking around the corner of the living room, just enough to make sure you saw him. he didn’t say anything right away, just stood there, watching you with those puppy eyes of his. you didn’t look at him. you couldn’t.

he sighed softly, so soft you barely heard it, and took a slow step into the room. his shoulders were slumped, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, clearly unsure of what to do next.

he shifted closer, then gently slid down to sit beside you, his leg brushing against yours. “i… i don’t like when you’re mad at me..” he mumbled, voice quieter now, almost a whisper. his head dropped to your shoulder, his hair brushing against your skin. you could feel the subtle tremble in his body, the way he leaned into you, needing your comfort, even though you were still angry.

you didn’t say anything, didn’t have to. your shoulder relaxed, just enough for him to rest there without feeling rejected. but even with that small gesture, he still felt uncertain, still felt like he wasn’t allowed to hold you the way he wanted to.

his fingers twitched against your arm before hesitantly gripping onto the sleeve of your shirt, his hold weak, like he was afraid you’d shake him off. he sniffled softly, his breath uneven, and when he spoke again, his voice was so quiet, so broken, it made your chest ache.

“i’m sorry..” he whispered again, barely audible, like he was running out of strength to even say the words. his face buried deeper into your shoulder, and that’s when you felt it. the faint dampness of his tears soaking into your sleeve.

he was still crying. maybe he never really stopped after the argument, just hid away in the bedroom, curled up and upset until he finally couldn’t take the distance anymore.

his body curled into yours instinctively, his arms hesitating before wrapping loosely around you, his grip weak, desperate. “please don’t ignore me…” his voice cracked this time “i hate the silent treatment. it makes me feel like… like i’m in time-out.”

his words wobbled, thick with tears, his breath uneven as he sniffled against your skin.

god, he was so pretty when he cried. his lips were parted, glossy from where he had nervously chewed at them, his big, watery eyes peeking up at you through damp lashes. his cheeks were flushed, his whole face soft and open, so heartbreakingly vulnerable.

you sighed, your fingers twitched before you finally gave in, reaching up to cup his cheek, and he melted instantly, his entire body going boneless against you like he had been waiting for that touch.

“you’re not in time-out, jake.” you murmured, still a little firm, but gentler than before. “but you did piss me off.”

he nodded quickly, his curls bouncing against your shoulder. “i know.” he mumbled, still sniffly, still so soft and needy. “but i don’t wanna be mad at each other anymore. can we just… can we be okay now?”

he looked up at you then, eyes big and pleading, so impossibly pretty, and you sighed, feeling the last of your frustration slip away.

instead of answering, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. just a quick press of your lips, light and fleeting. but then he made this tiny, breathless sound, like he couldn’t believe you were kissing him after all that, and it made something in you soften completely.

so you did it again. and again.

a little kiss on the tip of his nose. then one on his jaw, lingering just slightly. then another right at the corner of his mouth, where his lips were still wobbly from crying.

jake blinked up at you, dazed, his breath stuttering like he didn’t know what to do with himself. and then, without thinking, he surged forward, pressing his face against yours, clumsily chasing after your lips.

his kisses were messy, desperate, all over the place. he kissed your cheek, your chin, your forehead—anywhere he could reach. his hands were gripping at your waist now, still shaky but holding on a little tighter, like he never wanted to let go.

“i love you..” he mumbled between kisses, his voice still stuffy from crying. “i love you, i love you, i love you—”

you laughed softly, tilting his face up so you could kiss him properly, slow and sweet, until he sighed into your mouth and melted against you completely.

he made this tiny sound against your lips, something between a sigh and a whimper. his hands trembled where they clung to you, fingers curling tighter into the fabric of your shirt.

“missed you..” he whispered between kisses, his nose bumping against yours. “hated being away from you…”

“i was right here, jake,” you murmured, your fingers slipping into his curls, gently scratching at his scalp. he shivered under your touch, melting even further into you.

“no..” he sniffled, shaking his head against your skin. “felt too far.”

you sighed, kissing the top of his head, feeling the way he practically purred at the affection. he was always like this, too soft, too clingy, too desperate for closeness, especially after a fight.

“you’re so dramatic..” you muttered, but your arms wrapped around him anyway, pulling him even closer.

he let out a breathy, content little sigh, pressing a few more lazy, sleepy kisses along your collarbone. “only for you.” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

[alygator77]

── try again

a/n. i've been sitting on wanting to create a small scene like this for a while now. so here ya go! lemme tell ya'll... breastfeeding is not always this magical and beautiful thing that people make it out to be. it hurts like hell, my bloody nipples can attest.

cw: domestic fluff. angst with comfort. satoru's trying to make breastfeeding easier for you.

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice tight with frustration. “She won’t latch.”

You’re trying not to cry.

Looking down at your newborn, you can see her frustration—tiny fists clenching, soft, hungry cries spilling from her mouth as she wriggles restlessly in your arms. You shift again, adjusting her position, cradling her closer, trying—begging—for something to click.

But it doesn’t.

Her mouth bobs and searches blindly, cheeks flushing red with effort, and the desperation building in her fragile little body mirrors your own.

“I—I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” you choke out, blinking hard as tears blur your vision.

You’re exhausted. Beyond it. The sleepless nights at the hospital. Your body aches in places you didn’t even know could hurt. And this—this thing that was supposed to be natural, instinctual, beautiful—feels awkward and impossible—like a test you’re failing over and over again.

“Please, baby girl…” your voice trembles as you guide her to your breast one more time. “Just—c’mon—o-ow!”

She latches, but it’s wrong. A searing pain shoots through your chest and you flinch, instinctively pulling her away. Your nipple throbs—red, sore, screaming for relief. With a shrill cry, your baby’s tiny face crumples in protest, and your own tears finally fall—hot and helpless.

“Why is this so hard?” you whisper, voice cracking as you hold her close, shaking.

“Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re doing everything right.”

Satoru's voice is low behind you—steady, but laced with worry.

His hands come to rest gently on your shoulders, warm and trembling, his thumbs moving in slow circles like he can massage away the frustration knotting in your muscles.

“She’s only a few days old…” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, lips lingering in your hair. “She’s still learning. Fuck… we are too.” He exhales shakily. “You’re doing the best you can, sweetheart. Please don’t be so hard on yourself.”

He straightens, blue eyes darting around the room like he’s searching for something—anything—to help.

“What can I do? Do you need anything? Where’s that—hang on—where’s that damn pillow thing…?” he mumbles, and you watch through watery eyes as he scrambles, clumsily grabbing the nursing pillow, adjusting it like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box. His movements are uncoordinated, frantic—but full of love.

Satoru kneels beside you as you try again, baby blue eyes flicking between your face and your daughter’s, willing the pieces to fall into place.

"C'mon baby girl... be nice to your momma for me, yeah?"

But when your little one latches again and you gasp, pulling her off with a pained cry, your resolve shatters.

“I—I can’t do it Satoru!” you say, brokenly. “I can't get her to latch, and when she does… it just hurts. So much.”

You feel like a failure. How can you not feed your baby?

As you look up at him through watery lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks, Satoru's expression cracks. He nods quickly, white brows furrowing as his lips press into a tight line, like he’s holding back the helplessness swelling in his chest.

“I know, baby. I know. Just… wait one sec.”

He’s on his feet in an instant, practically tripping over the edge of the rug as he rushes across the room. A moment later, he’s back—dragging a stool with one hand and clutching a spare pillow in the other. Dropping down in front of you, he crouches low, gently lifting your legs and placing them on the makeshift footrest.

“There,” he murmurs, positioning the pillow with care. “Put your feet up. Maybe if you’re more comfortable…”

Satoru fluffs the nursing pillow again with extra care, tucks the baby’s blanket around her tiny frame, then grabs your water bottle from the side table—uncapping it as he gently places it in your hand.

“C’mon momma... gotta stay hydrated.”

His voice is hushed, but purposeful. You sniffle, taking a sip of water, and he's shifting back toward the kitchen, glancing over his shoulder.

“Um… do you want a snack? I think there’s some of those lactation cookies in the kitchen…" his blue eyes flick back to you, and you see the gears turning in his head. "Or... I can make you something? Or—shit—I’ll Postmate something! What do you want? Fuck, I’ll Postmate everything if it’ll help.”

A tired, wet laugh escapes you—half amusement, half relief. “Great..." you wipe the tears from your eyes, smiling softly. "Now you’re spiraling too...”

He huffs out a sheepish breath, dragging a hand down his face as he plops beside you again. “Yeah… yeah, I am definitely spiraling.”

Reaching up, he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face, fingers grazing your temple with featherlight tenderness.

“You’re in pain...” he murmurs, blue eyes shimmering with concern. “And... I feel helpless just standing here. I can’t feed her. I can’t fix this…” he pauses, lips dropping into an exaggerated pout. “My nipples are completely useless, by the way.”

A choked, breathless laugh escapes through your tears, and his entire face softens at the sound, like it’s the only thing that’s mattered all day.

“What?” he grins. “It’s true. I’ve got nothing going on up here. Decorative at best. Yours, on the other hand—” he gestures with a flourish, “—doing heroic work. Damn sexy, too. Just sayin'.”

You roll your eyes through the blur of tears, laughing again, and lean into the warmth of his palm as it cradles your cheek.

It still hurts. You’re still exhausted, still raw, still aching in every possible way.

But in this moment—wrapped in Satoru's love, soothed by his gentle chaos and relentless care—you don’t feel quite so alone.

And somehow, with him by your side, you find the strength to try again.

And again.

And again.

Until finally… you get it right.

[simonz-angel]

simon taking gooddd care of his sweet dollie after a night out 🍆

he sets you down softly, letting your weight dip into the mattress. he’d been ravishing you up with his eyes all night, soaking up your sweet appearance as if he’d never laid his eyes upon your angelic look, as if the band strapped ‘round his finger didn’t tie him to you.

his fingers nimbly work the straps of your heels, they’d rubbed your ankles raw all night. there was evidence of it, as he slowly pulled them off your feet, your swollen joints and muscles red and inflamed.

“poor girl,” he murmured looking up at you from his knees at your feet. he was beautiful from this angle, eyes glowing up at you sweet and sincere, hands slowly kneading at your feet, your ankles. “wanna make you feel better.”

and he put his attention in your swelled up limbs, dipping his thumbs into the arch of your foot to dig the knots away. you couldn’t help but breathe out in relief, head rolling back as you succumbed to his massage.

“feels good, si, thank you, baby,” you sighed out, voice tipping just an octave higher bordering a sweet whine. everything tonight seemed to have simon on edge, balls drawing up just at your pretty voice.

that’s when his hands slid higher to grope at your calves. pressing the edges of his fingers into the fatty muscle. he couldn’t get his hands off you, his eyes. it was like he under some love-drunk spell, utterly raptured by you.

his lips met your knee, the soft pillows kissing at the smooth skin with an almost fervor. he wanted to soak in you, bathe in your sweetness for all of eternity.

your attention fell down to him, lip tucked gently between your pearly teeth. and when his lashes batted, pupils meeting yours, you knew what he wanted. you could see the desperation dancing around his expression.

so you slowly granted him, spreading your legs apart for him to get a sweeeet look under your dress, the smooth silk laying amongst the sheets cinematically.

his hands were suddenly lurching forward, weight tipping forward onto his knees as his tongue slid up the inside of your thigh, a slight redness welting the skin from the chafing.

and when his mouth hung open over your panties, breathing hot over the material, enough just to seep through the thin lace, he breathed you in and exhaled his thank you’s.