#if he isn't already too far gone

[piratefalls]

there’s been so much going on in the last like two weeks and i am so tired and it’s coming up on final exams at work and that’s going to make me more tired and i am now double tired in advance

[eremin0109]

God, I can't stop thinking about that one particular moment from episode 5 where Junmo reaches his hand out to Gicheol after getting slashed on the back. It's such a natural reaction too, Junmo is not acting here. He's genuinely got caught off-guard by that attack, bleeding profusely all over—his first instinct was to reach out to the man in front of him. And Gicheol is horrified and manic and fucking livid all at the same time, pulling Junmo gently to his side with one hand while the other empties his handgun into the bastard who dared to attack his right hand man. It's such a surreal moment.

This entire scene is masterfully done, especially from Junmo's perspective. He wanted to tag along Gicheol to know about the "fishing" deal, but he couldn't have anticipated this attack. It wasn't like the last time they had to fight together between just the two of them, when Junmo had orchestrated the whole thing just to gain Gicheol's trust. There was no actual threat to his own safety then.

But that was not the case here. Junmo's thrown into this bloodbath simply by his association to Gicheol, with a very real possibility of dying there. He could've abandoned Gicheol, abandoned the entire goddamn operation because fuck it, he's got an entire life ahead of him. He's got a wife he loves so much and the prospective of having a family with her. So why should he throw all of that away for a 2-rank promotion that may or may not even come, if the corrupt police system is anything to go by??

Yet, despite everything, Junmo stays. He stays and fights for Gicheol, saves his life and almost dies doing so. Sure, he might justify it later (mostly to himself) that it was all for the mission, because Gicheol was more useful to them alive than dead.

But in the heat of the moment, Junmo couldn't have been bothered to put up that mask. He wasn't "Seungho" when he took that damn blade for Gicheol, he was very much Junmo. And a part of him would've been absolutely terrified to realise that he was willing to die for Gicheol, just as Gicheol was ready to kill for him.

[elgaravel]

OC DUALITY

was tagged by @morvaris​ to take this uquiz for my ocs >:) thank you nico this was super fun!!

tagging: @numbaoneflaya @time-is-a-lake @aartyom @nuclearstorms @girlbosselrond @druidgroves @malefiicarum @swordcoasts  @aldcaldos @sufferthorn @steelport @calenhads @lavinet​ and anyone else who’d like to join in !!

you and the hat man

oh boy you're fighting demons aren't you? it's like you're in a constant staring competition with something that's always in the peripheral. what the fuck. (at least, that's how people who don't know you would react). at this point you've probably gotten pretty familiar with the hat man. he's a reliable kind of guy. keeps to himself, sure, but you can trust him to be there. maybe a haunting isn't too bad if it's never left your side. you can only imagine what it will be like when he's not there any more.

god-hungry scientist and their abominable child

you stitched something together inside of yourself and gave it life with light from the sky and now it won't die and you can't kill it because part of you loves it and you're not quite right in the head or the person you used to be but at the end of the day it's simply a beast of sadness. you crave the mercy you didn't get from your creators and so i'm telling you please forgive yourself. please hold the monster by the hand.

moon curse of the werewolf

you have found yourself hungered or sickened or ambitious to the point of emotional carnage. you are fine, until you're not, and then you could rip someone in your way apart with your bared teeth by complete accident, and later claw at yourself in fits of pain trying to apologize. do you look at the moon that blessed you in her name, at her marred beauty and baneful eyes, and wish she could just crush that loving-hateful heart of yours before it crushes itself? every bite you take out of flesh is a response to the threads of silver bullets in you that haven't healed. the duality is that the human inside is howling too, gnashing, and without the wolf pelt, everyone can ignore it and turn away. at some point, you got tired of the moon being your only witness. now the wolf is there to make sure others know that you are hurt, and deserving of humanity, of attention to wounds. because that wolf loves you; all of you; and knows when you are hurt better than yourself.

[kinnoth]

Ok but think about how fucking horrible Loki would have turned if Thor had managed to become king. Like, even when they were only princes together, there was basically nothing Loki couldn't get away with: bullying the patriciate, being a flagrant wizard, spending extravagant amounts of money on absolute tat. And then, he was only the third most powerful man in the empire. With Odin gone, and only Thor who could possibly curb him? Dear fucking god.

Bc when has thor ever showed an interest in curbing anything loki has ever wanted or done

[ovaryacted]

PAIRING: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x f! reader || WC: 900 CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. Missionary Position/Mating Press. Overstimulation. Mentions of sub-space. Logan is an endearing tease.

Alright...Y'all know I just had to. If it wasn't already evident based on my previous posts, Wolverine is rotting my brain and Hugh Jackman snuck up on me in my sleep and slipped into my head again. I had to get this out of my system before I went insane lmao, and don't worry, I have longer pieces in mind for claw daddy. When writing this, I also imagined the X-Men version of Logan cause I loved the og movies, so this isn't the variant Logan from the Deadpool movie but imagine whichever version tickles your fancy! Thanks to @ozarkthedog for helping me pinpoint his characterization btw. <3

At times, Logan knew he could be a lot to handle. Not that he would really give a fuck most days, but he became more conscious of his presence when he met you. Softer, much more pliant in comparison to him, covered in hard muscle and rugged tendons. You didn’t mind his intensity, much less his overbearing weight and heavy hand. In fact, you welcomed all of him and encouraged him to let loose and forget about his fears regarding how he handled you.

“I’m not made of glass, Logan. I can take it, trust me.”

You told him once, his eyes silently apprehensive as he glanced at you. He was always careful, always self-aware, and treated you with respect. You knew it would take much more convincing to get exactly what you wanted with your lover, who was too adamant about keeping Logan and Wolverine separated in your relationship. But just this once, you asked for his trust to try something else, something a little different.

Ultimately, you got what you wanted, but your curious ambition may have underestimated the situation.

Legs pinned above his broad shoulders, Logan’s hips hammered into you as he fucked you into the mattress. You’ve lost track of time since he pulled the first orgasm between your legs, the tip of his nose and upper lip covered in your slick, glistening under the dim lighting of your bedroom. He surprised you as he kept going, pulling another release out of you with the use of his thick fingers, and a third the moment he slipped his body into yours over and over again.

The back of your head lay limp against the crumbled pillow underneath, thighs shaking on impact and your body jolting upwards with every thrust Logan gave you. You didn’t have the energy to moan or cry out for him anymore, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and your hands loosely held his flexing biceps.

You were lost, so far gone into pleasure, your brain wasn’t working anymore. The only thing on your mind was how the tip of Logan’s cock continued to hit that spot inside you with rehearsed precision, sending you further into that fuzzy headspace you seemed to enjoy. Your eyesight grew hazy, glossed over with tears on your lashline that began to fall down your warm cheeks. You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a comforting palm on your face, fingertips tapping along your cheekbone in an attempt to ground you back to reality.

“You still with me, sugar?” He asked, gravelly voice filtering through your ears. You whined in response, pupils losing focus as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Not a single thought in your head now, huh?” The creases on Logan’s temple became more prominent as he smirked, deep strokes intensifying the heat you felt deep in your gut.

“C’mon sweetheart, need to hear you say something. Talk to me.” His nose bumped into yours, huffs evident on your bottom lip as you struggled to find your voice.

“Logan...” Your voice was breathless and raw, trailing off into a meek whimper at the feel of his other hand squeezing your waist. Your eyes trailed up to his own, hazel irises and a toothy smile came into view, causing you to clench around him. 

“There she is. This too much for you?” He knew it was, knew that this was what you asked of him, to push your limits and bring you to the point of no return.

Your mind fizzled out, the grip on his arm waning as he continued to thrust hard into you. You gave him a feeble nod, finding enough stamina to provide an answer. It was too much; three orgasms in, and your entire body felt on edge and overstimulated, sensitive to anything that was done or said within the confines of your bedroom. And yet, you didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to eat your own words and make him proud.

“I know, honey, I know. Just giving you what you wanted.” Logan teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm that matched his cocky expression.

You could feel yourself getting closer, your thighs and knees shaking on either side of his head. He continued to move against you, the hand that was on your waist drifted between your legs, seeking out your throbbing clit. His thumb pressed into the engorged nub, rubbing it in diligent circles that sent your hips jolting away from him. Logan held on to one of your thighs, pressing it towards the mattress and bending forward to pin you in place. Your heart raced, your chest ached, and you tightened at the violent wave of your next climax threatening to wash over you. 

“Keep your eyes on me, right up here. I gotcha.” Logan said, maintaining the powerful drives of his hips until you came around him with a scream of his name, doing your best to hold his gaze. You sobbed at the feeling, a neverending spiral of bliss filling your body and making your head go blank.

“That’s right, atta girl. Keep looking at me.” He rasped, groaning loudly under his breath and leaning down to give you a bruising kiss, spilling into you and filling you to the brim not that long afterwards.

Sure, Logan can be a lot to tolerate sometimes, but you didn’t mind being the one to handle him.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[sugume]

CONJUGAL VISIT w/jujutsu Kiasen

Description: in which an inmate of a prison or jail is permitted to spend several hours or days in private with a visitors

More: Fem!Reader, explicit content, unprotected sex, some d/s dynamics with Toji, American prison system? (idk if other countries allow this lol?) 

☾ Ryomen Sukuna 

He's been in solitary for so long that you start to think you'll never see him again. He finally fixes his attitude enough to come in contact with others and eventually gets some visitation rights. Get used to having sex with him here because the guards inform you he isn't leaving for a long time.

 “s’too much Kuna!” You whine into the flat pillow but your boyfriend Sukuna could care less and keeps pounding into you from behind.

“Think I care slut? Been away from this pussy for months now, shut up and take what I give you.” He grits out, pushing deeper into your back with one hand, fisting your hair with the other. He’d be damned if you tell him what to do after all this time away. Do you know how spineless he had to act in order to get this visit, on his ‘best behavior’, desperate to finally be able to sink in some cunt after being surrounded by irrelevant men and guards with their heads up their asses?

“Feels s’good,” you moan when Sukuna hits your special spot. “I’m gonna cum!”

“That fast slut, it hasn't even been ten minutes” He chuckles, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

“Missed you, ‘Kuna, c-cant cum ‘out you.”

“Can’t do shit without me, bet you can’t even function out there without me,” He groans in your hair, you don't understand half of what he’s saying you just nod mindlessly and slam your hips back on his cock.

“Then cum on my cock, whore.”

☾ Gojo Satoru 

He's on a mission that requires him to go to jail. The prison warden is in on it, but that doesn't mean your boyfriend doesn't want to experience the "real deal." He convinces the warden to allow him weekly fuck sessions because he says he can't complete the mission without them.

“i-Im gonna cum ‘Toru!” you whine aloud, to far gone to be embarrassed that your boyfriend is fucking you on scratchy sheets in a bed that probably hasn’t been thoroughly cleaned in years or the fact that multiple other girls have probably been in the same position you’re in with other inmates, on the same bed.

“So tight love, haven't you been using your dildos in my absence?’ he questions as he thrusts into your glistening cunt. Watching as you throw your head back, tears running down your cheeks.

“They’re too small ‘Toru!” You wrap your legs around his hard ass trying to get him as deep as he can.

“Aww, they can't make you cum as hard as I can, can they love?” he pouts against your swollen lips. You shake your head furiously, listening to the sounds your squelching cunt makes when he thrust back in, his balls slapping hard against your ass.

“Think i'll ask if I can get out early on good behavior. I can't leave my girl unsatisfied now.” He chuckles before diving his tongue into your mouth.  

☾ Toji Fushiguro 

Your mans got locked up again! This isn't the first time, nor will it be the last. You don’t know how he convinces the guards to allow you to visit time and time again, but you won't complain. You always miss him when he's gone every few months. The guard just sighs when he sees you’re here for visitation again

“You miss me, little girl?” he grins, sticking thick fingers in your already sopping cunt. “You know I always miss you when you’re gone, daddy.” You gasp, your back hitting the cold concrete wall behind you when Toji curls into your g-spot. 

“So so bad.” you whine, grinding your aching clit on his hard stomach, legs tightening around his slim waist when you find the perfect spot.

“You wanna cum little girl?” he asks while marking up your neck. He needs others to know you’re taken and if he can't be around you at the moment he’ll make it known another way.

“Yes Toji!” You scream.

“Yes what?” He stops his fingers.

“Yes daddy,” you whisper, moving your hips desperate to not lose the orgasm you were chasing. “Please make me come daddy, please!” 

“That's what I thought little girl” He says before continuing his movements and biting down on your heavy bottom lip.

☾ Choso Kamo

Too ashamed that he ended up in prison to allow you to visit him for a while. After much reassurance from you that you don’t look at him differently he finally comes out of his shell and makes friends. Get’s out early on good behavior.

“You think someones watching?” You mumble, looking back at the camera in the corner of the dark lit room.

“F-fuck baby, don’t fuckin’ stop,” Choso whines, gripping your waist, trying to make you bounce on his stiff cock. ‘Who cares if they are, baby? They won’t touch.”

You turn back around and grin down at your boyfriend “mmm, isn't that how you got in here in the first place Choso, beating up a man for touching me?” You start grinding on his cock again.

“Do anything for you, baby.” He moans gripping your waist when your tight walls start squeezing down on him, trying hard not to bust a nut so quickly.

“Yeah,” you moan out, feeling his cock twitch in you. “Now you’re stuck in here for months away from me.” You pout and claw at his chest when Choso starts to bounce you on his cock. God, if only he didn’t beat that man up you’d have this every night.

“Worth it.” He looks up at the camera, imagining the security guard looking down at your ass recoil when he slams you down on his cock

[unheavenlyvision]

Gojo cumming in his pants just from eating you out🤤 I just know that man enjoys eating pussy soo much

ok so reqs aren't open or anything and i know this isn't really one but i just agreed so heavily with you that i had to write something about this <3 (fun fact, i almost wrote 'bad romance' gojo doing this!) thanks for your ask btw !! i love when you guys interact :3

꒰꒰mdni // masterlist꒱꒱

Everything is sensitive, skin on fire, body jerking from the relentless way Gojo continuously licks at your messy cunt. Words lost on you and barely able to breathe properly, so far gone it’s almost embarrassing how your attempts to speak cut off into broken whines.

He’s been between your legs for what feels like hours now, never stopping his movements, his own sounds vibrating against your pussy. Not even bothering to hide just how in love with your cunt he is, drinking down your slick with such obscene slurping sounds.

Tongue insistently pushing into your hole over and over, nose rubbing against your clit, fighting the urge to roll his eyes back, wanting to watch you more than anything. Relishing in how you twitch and moan for him, your head tipped, back arched. Thighs shaking beside his head, attempting to pull back only to find resistance with how he’s holding you still.

Looking down at him, hoping to convey something to him, anything, just something coherent but everything leaves your mind when you meet his eyes. Dark and lidded, wet and glazed over, so completely drunk on you and all he’s done is lap at your pussy.

So lazy and fucked out when he looks back at you that you’d think he’s been balls deep in you, not just tongue fucking you crazy. This is the only time he’s ever quiet and even then he’s whimpering into your cunt, against his own will, not that he minds, getting off to the way you clench around his tongue when he whines at you.

So focused on how you taste, on how you smell, to really even care about his painfully erect cock rutting into the bed below. Not stopping, even when he’s already cum in his pants from licking your gooey cunt, all too happy to stay between your legs for as long as you’ll allow.

His dick twitches with his excitement when he takes notice of just how close you’re getting, your thighs closing in around his head, your whines hitting a higher pitch, he feels like he might pass out when he feels the way you tug on his hair and rut up into his face.

Barely fighting the fucked out and lazy smile on his face with just how fucking ecstatic he is to be blatantly used by you. Always loving when you get like this, so far gone that you stop holding back, only seeking your own pleasure, using him how you need.

You’re cumming hard on his face, for the umpteenth time, body shaking and eyes rolling, moans loud and unabashed. Gojo can’t fucking taking it, pathetic cock jerking as he cums in his pants for the second time tonight, hips twitching into the mattress, seeking a small amount of friction.

His own moans loud but muffled, still so intent on fucking you with his tongue properly, letting you ride out your high but also obsessed with your cunt in an absolutely selfish way. When you push at his head is the only time he starts relenting, and even then, he’s whining in disappointment.

He moves up your body to smile down at you, “Feeling good?”

“Mhm,” you nod lazily, “Jus gimmie a moment and…” Slurred words trailing off when you look down to see the front of his pants dark and sticky, his cum leaking into them.

Not even a little bit ashamed when he smiles back at you, “Hmm? You’re okay for more? In that case…”

He goes to settle back between your legs only to have you flailing to stop him, laughing out protests. He leaves your poor pussy alone after that but when he takes his pants off, the view of his pitiful, leaky cock, covered in his own cum is a sight you’re sure you won’t forget any time soon.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, best friend! Eddie, friends to lovers, mentions of bodily injury, mentions of masturbation (m), oral sex(m)

Summary: Eddie hurts his dick and as his best friend, you decide to help him ease his pain.

WC: 3K

A/N: I am so tickled by the idea of Eddie wrecking his cock and balls on accident so I had to write about it and wedge in some spice as well. Enjoy!

When Eddie had told you he wasn't feeling well enough to hangout tonight he should have realized that someone like you, caring and loyal almost to a fault, would take it upon themselves to help in any way they could, showing up at his trailer a few hours later with dinner and a zipper pouch full of medicine he might need.

"Ding dong, I'm here to take care of you, Munson", you'd gleamed at him playfully.

It was no secret that he didn't take the best care of himself whenever he was under the weather. Eddie was known for skipping his meds and spending most of the day swathed in a cocoon made of blankets, emerging hours later to pad into the kitchenette where he'd nibble at cold, leftover takeout before weakly traipsing back to bed.

So, when you showed up at his front door with your arms wound around a thermos full of homemade chicken soup and a Tupperware container warm with baked salmon, he should have felt happy. He should have felt grateful for the trouble you'd gone through just to make sure that he ate well and was looked after while he was on his own but instead, all he felt was the sharp, piercing sting of guilt.

The thing was, Eddie wasn't really sick.

He wasn't running a fever like he'd claimed over the phone. He'd purposely hidden the real reason why he couldn't come over to your place and watch a movie like the two of you had planned because well, he was embarrassed.

The truth was, Eddie couldn't come hangout because his dick and balls were killing him.

It had happened last night.

He'd been spread out on the couch while Wayne was away, dressed only in a pair of boxers snug around his hips with a movie playing on TV to keep him entertained throughout the night.

As usual, a blunt was held between his plush lips for most of the evening too, a bottle of jack by his feet which he'd pick up and gulp from time to time.

The combination of alcohol and the weed served a particular purpose that night – helping to make the tooth achingly bad acting in Zombie Lake more tolerable, a movie he'd picked solely for the gratuitous nudity.

Forty minutes of naked, unsuspecting women wading in zombie infested waters later and he was more than a little strung out at that point, rendered blissfully languid while he lay slumped against the couch.

Eddie had picked that moment to reach for the whiskey with his bloodshot, half lidded eyes still plastered on the TV screen, missing twice before he managed to pick it up with light fingers.

Bringing the three quarters full bottle up to his lips for another swig, that was when the booze slipped out of his loose grip, too high to react quickly enough and catch it before it was too late.

With his thighs spread far apart, the full weight of the bottle landed directly on his crotch, the pain shooting from between his legs like daggers, enough to make him feel like the air had been kicked right out of his lungs.

The carpet and couch soaked up most of the spilled whiskey, the nearly empty bottle lying on its side on the floor while Eddie couldn't do much but cup both hands over his junk and curl into himself, trying to grunt, groan and hiss through the pain as tears brewed in his eyes.

Now, it's almost been a full 24 hours since the incident happened but his dick's still super sore from the impact. And to make matters worse his balls are blue in more ways than one.

See, Eddie's got the kind of sex drive that had him jacking off at least twice a day to keep himself sane but now thanks to his injury, he's already feeling pent up, unable to tug his swollen cock and give himself that much needed release.

So, though your outfit isn't provocative, it's still you, his best friend whom he's harbored less than platonic feelings for so of course your denim shorts and your tank top are making him want to act up, the swirling desire at the base of his stomach burning even hotter with the way you're taking care of him, showing him a level of concern no one else has before.

It isn't fair, he thinks, having to sit across from you on the couch while he tries to fight off the growing ache in his cock, tries to will his sore member soft for the sake of your friendship as well as curbing his own pain.

You're yet to notice his dilemma though, rummaging through your bag while Eddie tries not to let the scent of your body wash trigger flashes of you sitting in your bath tub with your bare tits above water, all wet and soapy with your nipples all hard and the bubbles trailing between your cleavage and–

"Shit", he hisses when a twinge of pain flares as his dick starts to twitch in his sweats.

"Everything okay, Eds?", you look up from your bag when you hear it but he's quick to wipe the grimace from his face, faking his best smile at you.

"All good. So, what are we doing next?"

He's relieved when he watches your soft smile slowly return to your face, the kind that reaches your eyes and curves your lips in that way that makes him want to reach out and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin before he tells you how pretty he thinks you are.

"How about casual sex?", you ask, all chipper.

"…what?"

In an instant Eddie's whole body alternates between flashes of frigid cold and scorching hot. Had he heard you right? were you…offering? fuck, his dick is throbbing so bad in his sweats right now.

You dive your hand back into your bag, pulling out a VHS tape and holding it out for Eddie to see.

"Figured a comedy would be for the best", you waved the tape in his gawking face, his stomach somersaulting when he reads the title. Of all the movies you could have picked, you just had to go pick the one called Casual Sex? didn't you?

"Plus, I know how much you like Lea Thompson so I figured this would be a good pick", you smiled sweetly at him, tapping a finger over the actress pictured on the cover.

Another sharp prick of guilt and another dull ache radiates in Eddie's crotch because his mind's being especially cruel to him right now, dredging up unwanted memories of the time he wore out a copy of Howard the Duck by beating his meat to Lea Thompson's scenes all day and night.

"Uh, got anything else?", he croaks, clearing his throat when you narrow your eyes at him a little suspiciously.

After a little back and forth, the two of you end up watching The Thing to Eddie's relief. Nothing there that might trigger a boner except the couple of times you squealed adorably when Kurt Russell popped up on screen, kicking your feet and hugging your knees to your chest, inadvertently making your cleavage more noticeable over the neckline of your tank top.

Eddie's able to ignore it for the most part, that was until you offered to help clean up a little once the movie was over, bending over in your denim shorts to gather the empty soda cans sitting on the table in front of the couch.

Despite the alarm bells echoing in his head, he can't seem to help it, eyes trailing up the back of your smooth, bare thighs, settling on your ass and the way he can just about make out a peek of your cheeks now that your shorts have ridden up high.

Oh shit.

Up until now you'd been pretty pert all night but when you turn around, you're instantly startled by the look on Eddie's face, all twisted up and pinched as he presses a cushion into his lap and begins to wince.

"Eddie, what's wrong?", you set the cans aside, dropping back down on to the couch beside him.

Yet another flash of pain courses through him when he catches sight of the way your breasts bounce in your tank top when you take a seat. Jesus, this wasn't going to be easy, was it?

Eddie tries to mask it but you can read the pain there easily, especially when you're so close to him now, close enough that your shoulder brushes against his bicep.

"Eddie please, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

If there was a way out of this without having to admit the truth, without having to tell you how he'd given a whole new meaning to the term whiskey dick, he couldn't seem to find it, feeling helpless as he crumbles under the weight of your concerned, round-eyed stare.

"I lied, okay? I'm not sick, I just…"

Insides twisting, he has to squeeze his eyes shut the moment he sees the confusion register on your face, the way your eyebrows draw together and your eyes narrow. It's too much for him to handle and it all comes flooding out at once.

"I dropped a bottle of whiskey on my dick last night and now the damn thing's killing me because you look so– uh. Fuck. You look so…like, this and it's just– it's a lot"

Daring to open his eyes again, he finds that your own eyes have gone understandably wide, your lips slightly parted too and he hates himself for thinking how badly he'd like to slip his fingers between them and watch you suck.

"Oh. So like, is it– are you hurt badly?", you break the silence after a few seconds of processing his word vomit, blinking up at Eddie like you're fascinated to learn more about his injured cock.

"I mean, I don't think it's anything I need to go to hospital over but yeah. Hurts a lot", he replies a little sheepishly, a side of Eddie you don't see very often because he's far and away from the shy type that's for sure.

"Like when you get hard?", you tilt your head to the side curiously.

Eddie blinks back at you when you say it, clearly taken aback by how casually you're treating this whole situation after how hard he'd tried to hide it but he manages to answer you with a slow nod.

He shivers next when suddenly you drop your gaze to the cushion he's got pressed over his aching boner. "Hm… it’s probably not going to go away anytime soon either, huh? we should do something about that", you suggest thoughtfully.

In that moment, all he can do is look at you in disbelief, sweat beading at his temple and his fingers trembling on top of the cushion. This couldn't really be happening, could it? His best friend since, forever, offering to get him off?

Eyes drifting up to his once more, you lean a little closer, voice dropping down to a whisper. "I could help you", you offer, tentatively placing your hand on Eddie's knee. "Only if you want me to."

Adams apple bobbing, it hurts Eddie when he swallows, finding his throat's turned dry and tight in the last few seconds.

"Seriously? you'd actually do that? um, are you sure?"

You bite back a laugh because the look on his face is nothing short of adorable, all wide eyed and eager like a puppy awaiting a treat.

"Well, you could sit here with your bruised dick and keep whimpering like a baby or you could let me make you feel better. What's it going to be, Eds?", you quirk up an eyebrow at him at the same time the corner of your mouth picks up into a playful smirk.

"The second one please", he answers quickly, his cheeks flooding with so much color you kind of want to pinch them and tease him about how cute he looks right now.

"Thought so."

Smiling, you pick yourself up off the couch, carefully lowering yourself to kneel between Eddie's legs when you place your hands on his knees and gently encourage him to spread them apart.

He's quick to help you when you reach for the waistband of his sweatpants next, carefully pulling both it and his boxers down to finally free his cock.

For both of you, it's surreal being in this position – Eddie with his cock out, all hard and throbbing for you and you wedged perfectly between his legs like a puzzle piece he'd been searching for all his life.

You have to take a few seconds to admire it; the way the length of him blushes red and curves up towards his belly, the way the many veins wrap around his thickness and the dark, wiry thatch of hair at his base, untrimmed and full. Just how you'd always imagined based on how wild Eddie kept the hair on his head.

Eyes trailing lower, you have to resist the urge to palm his balls to keep from possible hurting him. You want to feel the weight of them in your hand though because you can't help but think they look so full and that makes you feel sorry for Eddie and how he'd had to deal with that discomfort all day.

The thought has you pushing your lips out into a sympathetic little pout, hand reaching out to finally touch him. Gently, you use your fingers to pull back his soft foreskin, leaning forward and parting your lips to delicately kitten lick at his red, leaking tip, keeping your eyes fixed on his face for any signs of discomfort.

You're pleased to find none, chest blooming with pride as you watch complete bliss wash over Eddie's face, swirling your tongue gently and collecting beads of precum when you hear him sigh and moan with relief.

"Oh my god, that's – that's really fucking good. Please keep going", he whines unabashedly because that persistent ache that's been troubling him since last night is being soothed so fucking well by your eager tongue. At this point he doesn't even care what kind of sounds you might pull out of him, desperate to feel more of your touch.

"Don't think I'm gonna last long", he gulps when you blink up at him with your pretty lips wrapped around his tip. "Your mouth feels too good."

His words make your confidence rise like steadily billowing smoke. "You don't need to", you tell him truthfully. "I just want to make you feel better", pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his smooth head, loving the way his breath stutters when you do it and the feeling of his sticky precum coating your lips in a shiny film. Like he's marking you..

As you continue, you refrain from using your hands while you pleasure him, keeping them pressed flat against his inner thighs, using only your mouth to kiss and lick up and down his rigid shaft as your nose nudges against it softly, returning to suckle at his tip from time to time.

It's easy to tell how badly Eddie must have needed this because he's unravelling so quickly under your touch as he throws his head back against the couch, his hands balled into fists by his sides while he whimpers about how well you're doing.

He's so pretty like this with his neck bared to you but you miss his gaze, removing your swelling lips from his cock to coax him back. "Don't hold back with me, Teddie. Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you", you coo earnestly.

Lifting his cloudy head to look down at you, it's Eddie's turn to surprise you when he brings one hand up to brush back a few strands of hair that'd gotten stuck to your damp cheek, a brief moment of tenderness that makes the butterflies resting in the depths of your stomach wake and beat their wings.

"Could you go a little lower?", he asks you, chest heaving and lips slightly pink from biting.

"Want me to lick your balls?", you try to clarify.

That makes him chuckle, a sweet, airy sound that makes you feel like there's sunlight spilling through the spaces between your ribs, filling up your whole chest with pleasant warmth.

"When d'you start talking like this, huh? Y' got such a dirty mouth on you, sweetheart", he teases you lightly, pulling his hand back so you can get back to working him.

You simply smile against his shaft in reply, feigning coy and innocence while trailing kisses lower and lower until you reach the seam of his balls. Placing your warm tongue flat against it, you draw it up slowly, wetting his heated skin before pressing more kisses against his sack, giggling when the hair there starts to tickle your lips.

"Think you can handle it if I take you in my throat? I'll go slow, I promise", you speak up from between his legs.

Given how often he's pumped his cock to the very thought of you throating him, Eddie nearly trips over himself trying to find the words to answer.

"Holy shit, yes please", he manages to let out with a strained groan.

That's all you needed to hear before you're taking him into your mouth again, bobbing up and down a few times slowly, careful not to let your teeth scrape his sensitive skin before you bob deeper and let him reach the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex and making your throat close around him nice and tight.

"Baby– baby, fuck I'm going to cum", he gasps, hips jerking, eyes squeezing shut.

And that's all the warning he can manage to give you before he's spilling down your throat, thick, creamy ropes of it which you swallow down eagerly and as best as you can.

Most of it slides down the warm, wet contracting walls of your throat but you realize just how pent-up Eddie must have been when your cheeks puff out a little with a generous amount of his cum that you couldn't manage to gulp down fast enough, pulling off of Eddie's softening cock with a mouthful of spend sitting warm on your tongue, coating the insides of your cheeks.

Sitting there on your knees while Eddie pants and recuperates, a deeply curious part of you has you swishing his cum in your mouth, savoring the distinct, tangy taste of him before you part your lips and let him look inside.

Exhausted but entirely amazed, he gawks at you and the viscous mess of spit and semen in your mouth, tempted to stick his own tongue in there and taste himself on you before you press your swollen lips back together and promptly swallow, a beaming smile breaking out on your face.

"See? told you I'd take care of you."

[diamondcitydarlin]

Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)

This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)

So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.

This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.

Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.

It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)

I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).

Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.

Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.

And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.

At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.

[nonranghaes]

heads up: mentions of wearing contacts

seungcheol is standing outside of the bathroom when you step out, arms folded across his chest. "who hurt you and what did they say."

it isn't a question, and you're already confused by how suddenly imposing he's become. you sniffle again though the tears are long gone, and he gives you a pointed look--as though your crying gives you away.

"mingyu said you left crying," he says. "who do i need to talk to?"

he's always been protective of you, standing up for you when you're too anxious to do it. but you're still confused. "cheollie, what are you talking about?"

something about him melts a little when you call him cheollie, but he takes a deep breath, squaring back up. he's not cheollie, not when he thinks something is wrong enough that you cry, and you see the way he pushes back on the urge to become all soft and tender with you. "mingyu said you were talking with jeonghan and the others when suddenly you started crying and ran out of the room."

what was he...? oh! the realization hits you all at once, and you almost laugh. "no one hurt me, cheollie."

"i know they can go a little far with their jokes sometimes," he starts to say, taking your face into his hands, "all you have to do is tell them to stop--or tell me, and i can tell them--"

"my contact slipped," you say, resting your hands over his own. "it hurt, so i teared up and booked it to the bathroom so i could fix it."

he stops entirely for a moment, staring at you. a moment later, he's just quiet as he lets out an "... oh." yet when you snort in laughter, he's already pouting. "i was worried about you! are you going to make fun of me for being worried?!"

"a little," you lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, still giggling as you walk away from him. "gonna tell the others you're so protective you're gonna fight my contacts--"

seungcheol gasps as he rushes after you. "don't--they'll never let me live it down!"

"that's the point!"

[yazmarina]

dime, ¿esto es lo que tú quería'?

charles leclerc and oscar piastri x fem!reader

how about a reward for monaco's p1 and p2?

warnings/notes: smut, threesome, a blowjob, slight degradation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it up, people!!!), cumshot, creampie, gagging, light choking

a/n: very ambitious and would not set me free until i wrote it...so please enjoy <3

.

You really had no idea how you ended up here.

Arthur is a good friend of yours, having met him when you first came to work for Ferrari under the communication department, mostly being assigned to handle the Academy and development drivers' communication needs. You and Arthur got on well, and eventually, you were hanging out with him and his other friends on the weekends.

The two of you were strictly friendly, something you've had to clear out multiple times to work superiors, nosy colleagues, insistent reporters, you name it.

Arthur isn't your type, point blank, period.

His older brother was a different topic altogether.

Charles was sensitive, artistic, a prince charming in all aspects. Being in close proximity to Arthur meant you spent some time with Charles, too, but those were few and far between and every time you were within five feet of Charles, you were reduced to a tongue-tied mess.

Regardless, Arthur insisted you come along to the celebrations after Charles' most recent win in Monaco.

"Charles knows who you are and you're my friend. He won't mind," Arthur pleaded earlier that day as you were packing up after the podium celebrations.

"What if you go running off and I'm left alone?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I won't go running off," Arthur promised. "I'll be with you the whole night. I'll even help you look for a guy you can go home with!"

And yet you're here in the present, sitting on a couch in the VIP section, alone.

Well, not really. You're surrounded by people but none of them are talking to you. Arthur had gone to get more drinks half an hour ago and you know by now that he probably was sidetracked by other friends or something to that effect.

You have half a mind to call it a night, your hand already reaching for your purse, when you hear a voice call out.

"________! You're here!"

You look up and your heart seems to jump right into your throat.

Charles is beaming down at you, a flag of Monaco draped around his shoulders, his previously styled hair now sticking up in all directions.

You caught a glimpse of Charles earlier when you arrived with Arthur, but the race winner was too busy doing shots for you to have properly said hi.

But he's here now. And he's sliding into the space beside you.

"Where's Arthur?" Charles asks, reaching for an unopened Heineken on the table in front of you.

"I have no idea," you half-yell, leaning closer so Charles could hear. You feel goosebumps erupt on your skin when Charles lays a tentative hand on your back.

"You can spend time with me, then," Charles grins, moving his arm further so it fully wraps around your shoulders.

A nervous laugh escapes you but your instinct is to lean even further into Charles' touch. He's still smiling at you, though clearly inebriated with the way his eyes seem out of focus.

"Ah, Oscar!"

You turn your head to see the other third of the podium finishers, Osar Piastri himself.

"Hey!" he calls over the din of the music. "I can't find anyone! I think they just abandoned me," Oscar adds, laughing.

He takes the seat on your left, effectively sandwiching you between him and Charles. You smile politely at Oscar, reaching your hand out.

"Hi, I'm ______," you say, smiling wider as Oscar takes your hand in his and squeezes.

"I'm Oscar," he says then pauses, realizing that you probably already knew who he was if you were any friend of Charles'. He laughs, practically giggles, hiding his face in his hand.

"Sorry, I see you around the paddock sometimes, so I probably didn't need to do that," Oscar explains, cheeks turning pink, or at least you think they do, given that the lighting in this club is atrocious.

Oscar is still holding your hand and you can tell that he's tipsy too by the way he's smiling, eyes hooded and sleepy-looking.

"________ is part of communications in Ferrari," Charles explains, rubbing his thumb over the exposed skin of your shoulder. You turn to look at Charles, and the way he gazes back at you, a half smile on his lips, breath hot on your cheek, has your heart pounding incessantly against your chest.

"She's very efficient," Charles praises with a chuckle. "I like seeing her around when she works."

You make a move to swat at Charles' thigh as if to tell him off. "Stop it, I'm not at enough races for you to see me that often."

You're laughing, mostly in disbelief at the words that just came out of Charles' mouth. He likes seeing you around?

Charles shrugs. "But when you are, I notice."

You feel your neck heat up and even more so when Charles maneuvers you closer, seemingly protective. If you moved any more, you'd be on Charles' lap.

Oscar eyes the two of you and you'd give anything to read the thoughts in his head right now. The younger man locks eyes with you and smiles, sweetly at first, but then his pupils glance down briefly at your chest, barely covered by the tube top you decided to don for the evening.

The sweetness quickly melts away as Oscar bites his lip.

"You're close, then?" Oscar asks casually, scooting closer to you and Charles.

"Arthur and her are good friends," Charles points out.

"So I guess by default, _______ and I are good friends, too."

You laugh and Oscar is grinning once more at you, and god does he look handsome under these lights. You can tell that he wants to come even closer, his fingers tapping nervously on his knee. Some slow song is playing over the speakers, bass loaded and making the entire place vibrate.

You reach out, laying a hand on Oscar's thigh, squeezing just enough to get the point across.

Oscar looks over at Charles and you follow his line of sight, seeing some sort of unspoken agreement cross the two drivers.

Charles dips his head, moving even closer to you. He breathes out right next to your ear and you shiver.

"Ma chèrie," he begins. "I think we need to take this somewhere else."

You turn to look at Charles, blood roaring in your ears. "What?"

Charles looks straight into your eyes as if searching for something. He rubs a soothing hand down your back, letting it settle on your waist.

"You want to, no?" Charles asks, momentarily glancing up at Oscar. "With me and him?"

You feel a rush of excitement course through you. Surely, this isn't happening. The idea of Charles bringing you home crossed your mind briefly the moment he touched you earlier, but that's as far as you allowed yourself to imagine. But the remnants of alcohol in your system and the intoxicating atmosphere of the club must have gotten to you with the way you so brazenly made a move on Oscar.

And now you reap what you sow.

"We can hang out at my place," Oscar throws out nonchalantly as if he was simply inviting you and Charles to more drinks at his apartment.

"I just moved in and it could use a little...housewarming," Oscar adds with a pointed look.

Charles bursts out laughing, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder before nuzzling into the side of your neck. You glance around, hyperaware that all eyes have been on Charles the whole night, and for sure it isn't any different now.

"Andiamo," Charles whispers. "We'll make it good."

Let's go. Your months of Italian as a prerequisite to working in Ferrari barely register with you now.

Oscar slips his own hand over your thigh, his large palm covering an expanse of your skin.

"You'll love the view from my balcony," Oscar offers, tilting his head towards you. He smiles, innocent and sweet once more, simultaneously squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.

You bite your lip, suppressing whatever sounds that threatened to come out.

-

You thought you'd never make it out of the car ride to Oscar's place.

Oscar had brought his own ride and being much, much more sober than both you and Charles, he took the initiative to drive. You and Charles piled into the backseat, giggling.

"Not fair, you guys," Oscar teased from the front, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. Charles merely snickers, hands sneaking up over your chest as you settle on his lap.

"Eyes on the road, Oscar," Charles ordered, yanking your top down, exposing yourself fully to Oscar. You gasped, the cold air of the air-conditioning lending to the stiffening of your nipples. Charles began to toy with them, pinching and rolling them between his fingers, reducing you to a speechless mess. You noticed just how hard Oscar was gripping the steering wheel, tight enough that his knuckles were drained of color.

You barely had time to cover yourself back up once you got to Oscar's place, with Charles tugging you out of the car as soon as Oscar killed the ignition. The younger of the two comes around to your side of the car as you and Charles stumble out. Oscar takes your hand in his and leans down briefly to kiss you, tongue darting out to lick at the seam of your lips.

Oscar pulls away, sending Charles a look. "I was on the podium, too, mate."

"Ah, sorry Oscar," Charles says lightheartedly. "Sharing isn't really my strong suit. But for her, I will try."

Charles lands a smack on your ass, the sound loud enough to make you flinch. You involuntarily whine at the sting, tripping over your feet a bit. Oscar steadies you, laughing along with Charles.

"We're gonna have so much fun with you, chèrie," Charles teases, kissing your cheek.

The elevator ride is even worse. Or better. You can't decide.

It's just the three of you, and you're backed up into the corner, Charles being the handsier of the two, creeping both hands up your sides, his knee pushing between your legs.

"Ch-Charles, not here," you manage to warn. He increases the pressure against your core, grinning as he watches you shiver.

Oscar watches from the side, arms crossed, leaning casually against the elevator wall. You meet his gaze and he winks, smiling languidly just as Charles kisses down the side of your neck.

Soon enough, the elevator doors open and you push Charles away, startled to see a pair of middle-aged women waiting on the other side. You hurry past them out into the hallway, following Oscar who saunters down towards the end with an easy step.

"Right here," Oscar declares, unlocking a door at the very end. Charles guides you inside just as Oscar turns the light on.

The living room is spacious, with a single couch and coffee table occupying it. A deep blue rug breaks the cream flooring. Past the receiving area is the dining and kitchen, set against floor-to-ceiling windows, a staple of Monegasque apartments, as you've come to figure out. A hallway veers to the right.

"You weren't kidding about the view," you comment, taking in the night sky and the sprawling harbor.

Oscar turns back to you, and only now do you get a good look at him. The first three buttons of his shirt undone, his hair the right kind of messy, and his eyes, darker than what you're used to.

"The view in here is just as good," Oscar replies, eyes raking over your body. He reaches out, a hand resting on your waist.

"May I?" Charles whispers from behind you, tugging down the zip of your skirt. He gets it open and you let it fall to your feet, kicking it off to the side.

"So pretty," Charles adds, kissing along your upper back. Oscar hikes your top up and you let him pull it over your head, leaving you bare, save for your panties.

"I could see your tits through your shirt the whole night," Oscar comments, pointer fingers ghosting over your nipples. "Imagined what they might look like."

You gasp, leaning further back into Charles. You had no idea Oscar had that kind of mouth on him.

It turned you on to no end.

"Better than what you imagined?" You breathe out, Charles' fingers making their way over your mound, pressing over the wet spot on your underwear.

"Chèrie, you're so wet," Charles curses, rubbing you through the thin fabric. "Will you let me get a taste of you, hm?"

You nod frantically, already buckling under the lightest of touch from both men. You can only imagine how pathetic you look right now, stripped bare, with them still fully clothed.

"We should move this to the room," Oscar offers, delivering a final pinch to both of your nipples. You yelp as Oscar chuckles darkly, taking your hand in his.

It hasn't even fully started and you're already made to do the walk of shame.

Oscar's walls are still mostly bare but you feel exposed somehow, shivering despite the fairly warm temperature. He leads you and Charles to the door at the end of the hall, stepping inside while undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

You're met with large double doors on one side of the room, leading to, what you can only assume, is a large balcony.

"We can do it with a view, amour," Charles says, wrapping both arms around your waist.

Oscar shrugs his shirt off and you watch as his muscles flex beneath his skin, taut and defined.

"We sure can," Oscar agrees, flinging the doors to his balcony open. The cool night breeze blows past your face and you sigh, heart rate picking up even more.

Charles gently maneuvers you closer to the open doors and your hands start to clam up. Shit, are you really doing this?

"W-Wait," you mutter. "Won't anyone see?"

Oscar approaches you, pointer finger hooking into your underwear. He tugs at it harshly, yanking it halfway off.

"We don't have to do it outside if you don't want to," Oscar says, voice low. He looks at Charles. "Don't wanna get kicked out after I've just moved in."

Charles snickers. "The bed is right there. We'll leave the doors open and let them hear you, instead."

And it's true. The bed is directly in front of the balcony doors, moonlight spilling onto Oscar's navy blue sheets. Oscar grabs fully at your soiled panties now, ripping them clean off.

You gasp, but any shock is melted away when you see Oscar ball up the torn fabric in his hand, bringing it closer to your face. He raises his eyebrows as if questioning you.

"Yes? No?" He asks, tapping beneath your chin. It clicks a little late what Oscar is asking of you but you nod, parting your lips.

Oscar grins, pushing your panties into your mouth.

Fuck.

You hear the metal clang of a belt being unbuckled behind you, followed by the crinkle of fabric as Charles lets his pants and underwear pool around his ankles.

"You and I are going to have so much fun with her, no, Oscar?" Charles asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

Oscar undoes the button of his pants as well. "Yes, we are."

"How do you want to do this, baby?" Charles addresses you, taking hold of your hips. "Tell us."

"And maybe if you're good, we'll give you what you want," Oscar adds, a hand sliding up your chest before resting around your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel Oscar test the waters, squeezing lightly.

"Oh, wait," Charles laughs condescendingly. "She can't talk."

There's a glint in Oscar's eyes as he adds pressure around your neck. "Guess we have to decide for her then."

You whimper, arms reaching out to wrap around Oscar's own neck. He smiles at you, almost warmly, but you can still see the bubbling desire in his irises.

"You can take the gag out any time you want," Oscar instructs softly, releasing your neck. You take in a big breath through your nose.

"And if you don't like anything we're doing, say 'Monte Carlo'," Oscar adds. He nods at Charles and you feel yourself being pulled backward.

"Get on the bed," Charles commands and you scramble to do so, crawling over the mattress before turning around and laying back on your elbows.

Charles and Oscar eye you intently and you're tempted to cover yourself, but with how they've been acting the whole night, you're not sure how that would be received.

"You wanna go first?" Oscar nudges Charles lightly. The Monegasque grins widely like a kid on Christmas.

"Oh, yes," Charles concedes, getting on the bed with you. He scoots down so his face is level with your cunt.

"Hold tight, my love," Charles says before licking a thick stripe up your core. Your whole body jerks and you cry around the gag in your mouth.

Charles continues to work on your dripping pussy, alternating between flicking against your clit and circling your hole. You moan and whine and whimper, eyes tearing up as you look pleadingly at Oscar.

"Look at you," Oscar laughs. "We've barely done anything."

Charles spreads your legs even wider, licking even deeper. You're fully crying now, the buildup proving too much as you feel your body shake at your approaching orgasm.

Oscar reaches over and toys with your boobs, brushing over your nipples just the way you like it. Without warning, Oscar dips his head down and takes one in his mouth, circling the nub with his own tongue.

The added sensation nearly drives you crazy. The pressure builds rapidly inside you and you're left incoherent as you beg without words.

Not yet, fuck, I can't cum that fast–

You twitch and involuntarily press your pussy harshly against Charles' mouth as you come undone, toes curling and body seizing up. Oscar pulls away and watches as you throw your head back, fingers twisting into the sheets.

"Already?" You hear Charles' voice through the ringing in your ears. "You must really want it."

You blink through your tears, momentarily confused as you see Oscar reach for your face. You cough as you feel the dry fabric being pulled out from your mouth. Oscar tosses your ruined underwear to the side.

"I think she deserves a reward for getting there so fast," Oscar suggests, turning to Charles.

"Which one do you want a taste of first? You get to pick, sweetheart," Oscar says, wiping a stray line of drool dripping down the side of your mouth.

"Ch-Charles," you croak, throat still dry.

Charles and Oscar share a curt nod and the former moves to the head of the bed.

"Hands and knees, my love," Charles orders and you follow, getting on all fours. He settles against the headboard, leaning back as you take his cock in your hand.

"Guess you want me here, then?" Oscar says from behind you. You turn to peek over your shoulder to see Oscar stroking languidly at his cock, one of his hands coming down to spread your ass apart.

"Fuck, this view," Oscar hisses, smacking your ass once.

"I reckon, you don't need me to prep you? I can just–"

You shriek as you feel Oscar push in without warning, and though it was a surprise, the obscene amount of arousal coming from your cunt aids in the stretch that Oscar's cock brings.

He fully sheathes himself inside and he groans, grabbing your hips with both hands.

"Chèrie." Charles' voice forces your attention back to him.

"Don't forget about me, hm?"

You try to compose yourself as best as you can as Oscar starts to fuck you at a relentless pace. You lower your mouth down to Charles' cock, wrapping your lips around the tip.

You take half of him in, coating him in your spit, going lower each time you come down. Charles is nearly as incoherent as you were earlier, curse words in three different languages falling from his lips.

You feel the tip of his cock reach the back of your throat and you stop, gagging around it. Charles threads his fingers through your hair, yanking you back up.

"Open your mouth," Charles says, tightening the grip on your hair.

You do as you're told and Charles angles himself better. He holds you in place as he fucks up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat each time. You will your breathing to slow, but the constant assault on your pussy muddles your brain and destroys your focus.

"She's so fucking tight," Oscar says through gritted teeth. You can feel his nails dig into your sides.

"Here as well," Charles agrees. "So warm and so wet."

All you can do is sob as you let the two of them use you, filled up on both sides, reduced to nothing but two holes.

"Fuck, I wanna cum on her face," Oscar says hurriedly, hips slowing down, probably in an attempt to keep his orgasm at bay.

Charles pulls you back off of him and he surveys you for a second.

"And I'll do it inside," Charles says. "Will you let me cum inside, chèrie?"

You nod, unconsciously clenching around Oscar. He curses, speeding up his movements again.

"Mate, I can't take it anymore," Oscar rushes, pulling out. You whine at the loss but Charles is quick to get off the bed, replacing Oscar's place behind you.

You feel the Charles' tip press against your hole and you plead, rocking back, desperate to be filled up.

"Charles, please, n-need your cum in me," you stutter. "Wanna be filled up, I need it, need you, please–"

Charles slides in one swift motion and your eyes roll all the way back in your head. He's thicker than Oscar and the stretch is almost painful but in the best way possible.

The older of the two wastes no time and starts pounding into you, rendering you speechless at how brutal his pace is. You're dizzy with arousal, spit and tears mixing on your chin and cheeks.

"Look here, sweetheart," comes Oscar's voice, rough around the edges, his hand cupping your chin.

He's stroking his cock at an impossible pace, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You look straight into his eyes as you stick your tongue out, waiting for him to release all over you.

"Fuck, you really are desperate for it," Oscar sneers, gripping harder at your face. "Open wide."

A warm spurt of liquid shoots straight onto your tongue, landing on your cheeks as well. You squint as it hits nearer to your eyes but you obediently lick up everything you can from your lips, swallowing Oscar's thick cum down.

"Oh god, baby," Charles warns. "Je vais bientôt jouir–"

Charles presses you closer to him, caging your hips against his own. He groans and you feel him twitch within you. You clench down as hard as you can around him, earning your hair a harsh tug from behind. Charles yanks you back against him as he gives a few more thrusts to ride his orgasm out.

"We are not done with you yet, amour," Charles warns.

Oscar's face comes into view and he's eyeing you up and down, his thumb swiping at a stain of himself on your cheek. He brings it to your lips and you lick his digit clean.

"Good girl," Oscar praises. "But he's right. You can give us a few more, right?"

You swallow.

You nod.

[seungkw1]

white t-shirt — csc

💿🎧 white t-shirt - jonghyun 🎶🤍

♡ pairing: bf!seungcheol x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], pwp ♡ wc: 2.3k ♡ warnings: dom!cheol, sub!reader, size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), nipple play, creampie, dacryphilia, sexting, brief wrist pinning (f. receiving), gendered petnames (good girl, babygirl) ♡ a/n: i went insane no fewer than 15 times while writing this. hope u enjoy <3

1:32am

You didn't mean to rile up your boyfriend when you sent him that picture. 

It was late at night. You should've been asleep already, but the bed felt empty without him. Seungcheol had only been gone for a few days, off on a trip with the boys, but you missed him. Normally, you spend your nights trying to escape from his immense body heat - an impossible task, as he insists on clinging onto you, wrapping his strong arms around you, holding you tight against him as he drifts off to sleep. But you're having a hard time sleeping without his touch. 

It's only one more night, you remind yourself. He'll be back tomorrow. But it isn't helping. 

So in his absence, you do the next best thing you can: put on one of his t-shirts. 

The shirt is thin, a simple plain white tee, buttery soft, and most importantly - it feels like him. You plop back into bed, cozying up under the sheets, ready to sleep. However, his scent against your skin is arousing, and you find yourself longing for him even more. Your hand leisurely slips downward, resting between your inner thighs. The coolness of your skin contrasts with the heat radiating from between your legs. You try to resist, but your fingertips drift toward your core. They arrive at the delicate fabric of your underwear, just barely grazing over your clothed slit. You inhale sharply - you knew you were wet, but the sticky spot that has formed reveals just how fucking much you need him right now. Your middle finger ever so slightly presses against your clit, your other hand moving to your breasts, lightly pinching your hardening nipples through your borrowed shirt. You let out a quiet whimper. As turned on as you are, you'd love to get yourself off, but you don't want to do it yourself. You want Seungcheol here, touching you, worshiping your body with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. You feel your cunt throb at the mere thought of him. 

You sigh. Rolling over, you reach to grab your phone. You didn't want to bother him too much while he was with his friends, but your neediness is winning right now. 

You open up your messages. You click the top thread, labeled “Cheollie ❤️”, and open up the selfie camera. It's dark, but the moonlight seeping through the curtains illuminates you just enough. You position the phone above you, placing your body in full view. Your nipples poke through the thin, sheer fabric, showing off your tits nicely. You lift the shirt up slightly, revealing your tummy, but also displaying the visible wet spot spreading on your panties. Perfect. 

The screen flashes as you hit the shutter button. You type out a quick message.

missing you babe 😘

You hit send. You don't even know if he's even awake at this point, but almost immediately the typing bubble pops up. He types for a good minute, then the typing stops. But no message. You wait, staring at the screen, another minute passing before he starts typing again. Finally, a response. 

you can't just send me a picture like that out of nowhere. look what you've done.

His message is followed by a slightly blurry photo: him, in the bathroom mirror, pants hastily unbuttoned and boxers shoved aside, his thick cock fully erect. 

Another message follows. 

we were in the middle of a game. i had to run off and hide because of you. 

You grin, pleased with yourself. You wanted to tease your boyfriend, make him excited to come home to you. Instead, you've made him incredibly horny - and you want to see just how far you can push him. 

i take it you like the pic then? ;)

brat. i saw how wet you are. you need me that bad babygirl? so desperate for my cock that you can't even wait til i'm home tomorrow?

i need you babe, i wanna cum so bad 

don’t you dare, love. wait for me. 

i’ll be waiting ❤️

good. no touching yourself. only i’m allowed to make you cum.

You say goodnight, then and roll over - but you're certainly not sleepy now. Your mind wanders, thinking of your boyfriend, fantasizing about how good he's going to fuck you tomorrow. 

You pull up your phone one last time to check the time, calculating the hours until he’ll be back - far too many. 

It's going to be a long night. 

—

3:34pm

Your eyes are glued to the little gray circle with a C on it as it gets closer and closer to your apartment on the map. Cheol is almost home. 

Thank fuck. If you have to wait any longer, you’re simply going to explode. 

You reread the text he sent you earlier in the day:

omw home baby, i'll be there in a couple hours. wait in bed for me, wear the same thing as last night.

So here you are, laying on the bed, in nothing but his t-shirt and your underwear, which you can already feel getting wet again. You've been obedient, ignoring every urge in your body to touch yourself - but that's only made you even hornier. 

Finally, you hear the jingle of keys as the front door unlocks. You hear your boyfriend enter, taking off his shoes and setting down his things. Then - footsteps, growing louder as he approaches the bedroom. He slowly pushes the slightly-ajar door, standing in the doorway and taking in the sight of you, nearly naked, waiting for him in bed - just like he told you to. He gazes down at you, practically licking his lips, his eyes brimming with desire. You give him your best doe eyes as he saunters toward the bed. 

“Such a good girl for me, doing exactly as I told you,” he praises as he takes your face in one hand, rubbing your cheek gently. You say nothing, but tug at his arms, trying to pull him onto the bed - but he resists, standing tall as he stares lustfully into your eyes.  

“Oh, but you're still in trouble for what you did to me last night.”

You bite your lip as you grin, beaming at how much you managed to provoke him with only a single suggestive photo. Before he can stop you, you slip your hand onto the thick bulge in his sweatpants. He groans as you stroke his cock through his clothes; he lets you do so a few more times, savoring the sensation, before grabbing you by the wrist - pinning you to the bed as he climbs on top of you. He interlaces his fingers with yours as he holds you down, locking lips with you as he kisses you with aching necessity. His soft, plush lips tug at yours as he places his weight on you, pressing his hardened cock into your core. You cry out as his erection rubs gently against your clit, giving you the stimulation you've been craving. 

“Cheol,” you moan under your breath. “Missed you so much.”

He kisses your neck, humming in your ear. “I know, baby.”

His lips trail down your neck, sucking tenderly at your skin, until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in each hand, squeezing them as his thumbs repeatedly brush against your perked nipples. He positions his mouth right above one of them - you feel the warmth of his breath before he latches on, sucking gently on the bud through the thin t-shirt. You moan softly as his tongue creates a wet spot upon the fabric, making your nipple even more visible. He rubs the first nipple again as his mouth moves to your other boob, sucking more intensely as you begin to wriggle underneath him. He takes his time, going back and forth between each bud. 

“Cheollie,” you whine, “gonna cum already if you keep doing that.”

His mouth pops as he unlatches, glancing up at you amorously and giving you a sly grin. You are putty in his hands at the slightest touch - and it turns him on so badly. 

He tugs at the shirt - you lift your body off the bed, allowing him to pull it off of you. Throwing it aside hastily, he returns to your now-bare tits, kissing and licking them some more before his lips continue down your body, planting deep kisses on your stomach. He arrives at your cunt, situating himself comfortably between your legs, ready to devour you. His tongue licks a fat stripe over the growing wet spot on your underwear, the lightest of touch causing your back to arch slightly. He sucks on your clit through the fabric a few times before he grabs your underwear, pulling them off of you hastily, your soaked cunt now exposed and ready for him to eat.

He wraps his arms around your thighs as his tongue meets your pussy, licking up and down your folds. You whimper as he swirls around your clit, kissing and softly sucking on the sensitive bud. He slips his tongue into your cunt, pushing its way into your hole - his nose pressing deliciously against your clit as he tastes all of you, the vibrations from his moans making you see stars. You place your hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair as he goes down on you, your grasp growing stronger the more intensely his tongue works against your cunt. As you pull his hair he begins to grind into the mattress, needing relief from how painfully hard he’s become. He worships your pussy, eating you out as if it was his last meal on earth, savoring every drop of your juices as you writhe under him, overwhelming pleasure pulsing through your entire body. 

“Cheollie, ‘m gonna cum.”

He removes his face from your cunt, taunting you with his lips hovering just above your clit. You lift your hips, trying to put your pussy back in his mouth, but instead he slips two fingers into you. You cry out as he curls his fingertips upward, reaching your g-spot with ease. He keeps pressing the sweet spot as he slides in and out of you, his thick fingers stretching you out as he fucks you.

Not as much as his cock is going to stretch you out, your subconscious reminds you. 

“Please,” you whine, looking down at him, “need your mouth on me.”

He glances up at you, his big brown eyes meeting yours, drunk with lust. 

“Beg for it.”

“Please baby.”

“Please what?”

“Please make me cum.”

He smirks at the sight of you, tears welling in your eyes as you plead desperately for his touch. 

“My baby’s so pretty like this,” he coos, his bottom lip brushing lightly against your pulsating bud. 

You yelp as he dives back into you, his mouth latching onto your clit as his hand increases its pace, his other hand pressing against your tummy. Any remaining thoughts in your head vanish - your mind overtaken by pleasure, overtaken by him. You scream his name out as the white-hot sensation in your stomach builds, your body starting to tremble as your orgasm takes over. Seungcheol continues sucking your throbbing bud as you cum on his fingers, shaking from the powerful rush of dopamine exploding through your body. You’ve never cum this fucking hard in your life. 

You haven’t even caught your breath by the time he crawls up on top of you, his cock lined up with your entrance. You moan as he slides the head inside, your drenched walls stretching around his size. He slowly begins to thrust into you, filling you up, your pussy taking his entire length with each stroke. His body presses against yours as he buries his head into your neck, his cock pumping into you, fucking you deeper with each stroke. He groans as you tighten around him, his voice low and gravelly in your ear as his orgasm draws nearer.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growls, “pussy so perfect for me, fuuuck…”

Tears stream down the side of your face as you take his cock. Your nails dig into his back as you cling to him - sending him over the edge.

“Please,” you beg, “cum inside me."

“Oh god,” he moans, his body beginning to tremble as he bucks his hips into you. “I’m cumming baby…”

His cock throbs in your cunt as he releases. You whimper as he fills your pussy up, his hot ropes shooting up into you. He slows his pace, coming to a stop as he comes down, his still-twitching cock resting inside you. His lips tenderly suck at the delicate skin on your neck as you wrap your arms around his broad torso, squeezing his body into yours as tightly as you can. Eventually, he lifts his head, his face meeting yours with a kiss on the lips. He gazes at you, enamored. You lay there, breathing deeply together as you recover from your highs.

Seungcheol strokes your hair softly. “God I missed you.”

“Don't leave me ever again,” you pout playfully. 

“I can’t,” he replies, shaking his head. “Not if you’re gonna send me pictures like that. I nearly came in my pants.”

You grin lazily at him, head still spinning from your orgasm. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Cheol kisses you again, cradling your face in his hand. He grabs onto you as he rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You feel his cum dripping out of you, spilling onto his still-erect cock. He grabs you by the hips, pulling you toward his face. 

“C’mere,” he instructs, licking his lips at the sight of you about to straddle his face. “I'm not done with you yet.”

—

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 4 and the finale of the Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the support and nice comments. It means the world to me! No content warnings. Enjoy!!)

If the ground would swallow him whole, Simon would consider that a blessing. God, he never should've asked his mom about you. Of course she'd clock him. Who knows the man better than his own mom?

He stares blankly at you for far too long. Long enough that you're wondering if there was a chance Mama Riley had it all wrong. You open your mouth, ready to backtrack the statement, when Simon settles a hand on your thigh.

“I… yeah. It's true,” he answers you. He tells you it's fine if you don't feel the same. You were his mom's friend first, and he can see how deeply you care about her and vice versa. He wants his mom to be happy.

“What about what you want?” You ask, curious.

Simon's quiet for a moment, thinking. He wants to marry you, but that might be a bit much to admit right out the gate. So he gathers his nerves, and quietly admits, “I want to kiss you.”

You can't help but smile in response. You lean in a little closer to him, your eyes already half lidded. “I want you to kiss me,” you reply softly.

The kiss is a little awkward. It takes Simon a second to get comfortable in the kiss, but it's good once he does. (You find out later on that it's his second kiss.) His hands come to cradle your face, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. That's when the kiss becomes perfect, the kind that makes your head spin.

You break away at the sound of the door opening. Simon's hands linger in your face for a moment longer, before he drops them back down to his sides. But you're quick to lace your fingers with his, more than eager to start displaying affection. You've been holding back for far too long.

Mama Riley smiles at the both of you, a coffee in hand. “You kids get your feelings worked out?” She teases.

You and Simon share a look, before responding simultaneously.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah, Mum.”

Going to sleep that night is incredibly bittersweet. You two finally made progress, just barely started your relationship, and he's leaving in the morning. Simon has never hated his job more than now. He's waited, since the day y'all met, for this, and he doesn't feel like he even has a chance to enjoy it.

But it makes returning, two months later, all the more worth it. This isn't the first time you've gone with Mama Riley to pick him up, but this time is different. There's no fanfare, no balloons or signs, although you and Mama Riley had joked about it. But there is a new energy in the air, excitement to see your boyfriend.

He's easy to spot amongst the crowd, tall and imposing. But you see the way his shoulders sag with relief, when he spots you two. He greets his mom first, crushing her in a hug. There's some whispered words between the two of them, before Simon turns his attention to you.

He hesitates, before tugging his face mask down. “Can I kiss you?”

You can't help but giggle a little, nodding your head. His hands move to cradle your face, so gentle despite the horrors he's witnessed. And when your lips meet his, Simon decides there's no better way to welcome him home.

[talaok]

Like a Virgin

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.

warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol

Now this wasn't like him.

He hadn't done this in a long time.

The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.

But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-

And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?

Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.

You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.

He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.

God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.

And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.

"Joel please"

Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.

Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.

"need something?"

He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.

"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"

fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.

He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:

"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.

"want me to stop?"

For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips  

"Definitely not"

You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze

He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.

"Good christ"

that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.

"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.

"Joel please-"

"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.

He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.

The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this

"god you're so deep"

Yeah, you definitely knew

"and so big-" you cried

He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.

"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.

"just like that Joel- oh-" 

And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.

"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.

And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore

"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.

"why?" 

"nothing it's just-"

And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.

Goddamnit.

"you just feel too good Joel" 

"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"

"what is it?"

"Jesus Christ I-"

"is there something wrong?"

"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"

And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.

"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together

"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.

"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"

You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.

"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"

You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.

"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"

"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head

"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"

He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs

"that I can do"

[literaila]

are you stupid?

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you come home injured and satoru isn't cool with it

warnings: literal hurt/comfort, descriptions of a wound bad enough to warrant stitches, little angst, fluff, slightly ooc satoru

last part | next part

*

year six.

“are you stupid?” 

your hands are frozen to the touch, barely able to grasp the doorknob when his voice comes from nowhere at all. 

you almost don't notice it when satoru opens the door. you have to blink to focus on him, but by the time you do, you're already falling against the empty space in front of you. 

satoru is quick to catch your arm, righting you before you break your nose on the hardwood.

“that’s my line,” you tell him, slightly coughing--it sends shocks down your spine and you shiver. you shake his hand off of you, trying to walk forward, but there's a wall of a man standing there. you blink at him. "hey, satoru. would you mind moving?” 

“i could smell the blood from down the block,” he says, his voice rougher than usual, completely still. “what did you do?” 

you roll your eyes, waving a hand (even though it makes you a bit woozy). “there’s no way you could smell that. it’s not even that bad.” 

“it’s dripping down your shirt.” 

you pout, looking down. "i just washed this, too.” 

it is a lot of blood, you realize suddenly. you would definitely get some looks if you were walking down the street in public. 

still, you don't feel all that banged up. it's not really your fault that you were slightly distracted when that curse snuck up on you... or at least, you're pretty sure it's not. 

satoru, shaking his head--maybe finally realizing that you're fine--moves out of the way, holding the door open for you. "what did you do?"

you step through, using the wall to keep you steady. “how do you know i did anything?” 

you finally look at satoru, even though he's fading from your eyeline, in and out of focus. he's not wearing his blindfold or his glasses, and he's got a frown that rivals one of megumi's at the moment. 

it makes you laugh, just a little, as you try to shake the shoes from your feet. 

he was probably sleeping, you think. usually, you'd probably feel... at least slightly bad. but right now? you don't even care. 

you're just happy to see him, right in front of you like your own personal greeting card. you've only been gone a day, but satoru feels much further away than that. 

especially with his frown and his furrowed eyebrows. he's in a mood, you remember, frowning. 

“why are you bleeding, y/n?” 

you cough again, tapping his chest as you move past him. “jeez, lighten up, satoru. i’m good,” you say this as you limp down the hallway, wincing with every step. 

you don't get to watch satoru's eye roll, but it takes less than a second for an arm to wrap under your shoulders, satoru forcing your weight onto him, and he practically carries you through the house until you reach the kitchen, where he sets you on the countertop. 

he's looking at you like you're a fragile baby bird. 

and he doesn't bother to ask--of course he doesn't--before he lifts your shirt from your abdomen, it slightly sticking (due to the blood) before it rolls up. 

satoru's eyes widen as he inspects you. "woah," he whispers, paling just a little bit. 

you don't look down with him--because that's a terrible idea--but you watch satoru. 

you can barely feel it, actually. it's basically just a minor cut, nothing too--

you try not to gasp when satoru presses a finger near your ribs, not directly touching the wound, but far too close to it. it would be embarrassing to double over in pain, wouldn't it?

“is it bad?” you wonder, breathlessly, feeling a bit light-headed. 

satoru’s head snaps up, “you didn’t look?” 

“i was a bit distracted. the curse wasn't gracious enough to give me the chance to grab a couple of bandaids, the bastard."

“how did you even manage to do this?” 

your eyes trail down unconsciously, but all you can see is your bunched-up shirt--drenched in blood. yeah, you'll probably have to burn it. 

satoru is looking up and down, his face entirely disgusted, nose scrunched up and eyes avoiding your own. 

it makes you laugh a little--because you're very familiar with satoru and his opposition to anything humanly--which then makes you wince with him. 

it doesn't hurt that bad, really. 

“can you get the first aid kit?” you ask him, pushing his hands away from you and your cut. but as soon as satoru isn't right there to lean on, you begin to tilt forward. 

satoru immediately resumes his position as your pillar. “are you kidding? i’m calling shoko.” 

“i know how to do stitches, satoru. it’s late.” 

“you need, like, a stomach replacement for that.” 

you roll your eyes, leaning even further into him. at least when you're pressed up against his chest, you don't have to breathe. “you’re so dramatic.” 

satoru is still frowning. “doesn’t that hurt?” 

“nope,” you lie, sitting up and pushing his hands away again. “i’m running on adrenaline. it’s not that deep, anyway.” 

he gives you a hard look. 

you sigh. “what’s wrong with you? you can drop the act.” 

“what act?” 

“the ‘i’m the caretaker’ act.” 

“what if i came home with a hole in my stomach?" satoru's jaw is clenched. "what would you do?” 

“i can't think about hypotheticals right now, satoru,” you whine. “please get the first aid kit?” 

“should i get megumi too? might as well teach him how to stitch you up, he's getting to that age, you know.” 

“funny,” you say, dryly. “do you want me to bleed out on our counter, or…?” 

satoru sighs, but he walks out of the kitchen a moment later. hopefully to save you from dying. 

you exhale, feeling your chest tighten. you can't feel much, for the most part. but then there's that feeling every couple of seconds, a memory of the whole thing playing out-- except your head is fuzzy, and everything looks sort of… colorful right now. 

you can’t even remember how you got here. or the last time a curse managed to actually injure you. 

it feels a bit juvenile, really. 

especially because you’re in no position to be taking care of yourself—but in no world would you wake up shoko in the middle of the night for this. in no world would you wake up anyone, except for satoru, to deal with you, with your blood and your stubbornness. 

god, you hate pain. you hate having to wash blood out of your clothes, and you hate sitting here by yourself. 

you slump down. only seconds have gone by, but it feels like so much more than that. the wound burns, you think, in an unnatural way. 

you probably got poisoned and you're probably going to die and satoru is going to stomp on your grave, and--

“do we even have enough gauze to cover that up?” satoru is asking you when he walks back in. he's wearing nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, you realize, watching him. 

his eyes are stern, focused, and the rest of him is morose. you should be able to gaze at him, to stare--but you can't because your vision has spots in it, and everything about satoru is too hard right now. 

he’s been like this for days. casual but stuck—like he can’t find it in him to laugh about anything. his face has been a field of lines, with no breaks in between, and his eyes have been greyer than they should be, a sort of dim color that you hate. 

satoru's eyes are wild, usually. they are blue fires and the vast expanse of the universe. 

but not right now, when he's looking at you like this. and not this week--because he's barely been looking at you at all. 

and it's unfortunate not just because you miss him, but because you're not as good at casting it all away as he is. you can't shove things aside and make light out of the darkest situations. 

you can't fill his role, and yet you keep trying to. 

it's an inevitable cycle of failing and never being enough. 

“i’ll just cut up your shirt if there’s not enough,” you tell him, putting on a smile so he can’t tell how badly you want to start crying.

is this real pain, you wonder, or a dream? 

“use your own shirts.”

you pout. “but yours are the best quality.” 

satoru rolls his eyes, again, and begins to wipe off all of the well-used tools you have. a needle you've had for years, stolen from jujutsu high, and thread you can't remember taking. 

“what are you doing?” you try to grab the instruments from his hands, clumsily, almost cutting yourself again in the process. 

satoru is quick to hold them away, keeping them up and out of your reach. not that you were going to try very hard anyway. 

“i’m going to stitch you up," he says, like he's scolding you. 

“you don’t know how.” 

“please,” satoru scoffs, shaking his head. he gets a cloth wet under the facet, and then holds it towards you. “i probably learned how to do this before you were even born."

“when you were nine months old?” 

“clean it.” 

you listen, holding the cloth to your wound and still not looking down. it feels sort of ticklish, and also like you're being tortured. 

“you don’t have to,” you tell satoru after a moment, breathing through the nausea that comes with the pain. “i know you’re squeamish around blood.” 

“i am not squeamish.” 

you grin at him. “sure.” 

satoru looks up, and finally, his face relaxes, just a little bit. you can even see the workings of a smile on his mouth—the first you’ve gotten in days. 

he shakes his head. “i’ll be fine. sit up.” 

“seriously,” you say, again, catching his hand just as he’s about to touch you. “i can do it.” 

“seriously, i’m not letting you. your hands are shaking.” 

you look down, releasing his wrist. “oh.” 

“yeah, oh.” 

satoru kneels so he can see your cut properly, his face narrowed in concentration. you focus on him as he touches the tender skin by the wound, featherlight fingertips trailing across your skin.

you shiver and apologize under your breath. 

he hasn't been this close in days. 

“does it hurt now?” he asks you, voice so quiet that it almost echoes through the house. 

“not really,” but you look up towards the ceiling. somehow you know it’s going to be worse if you watch. 

“i can call—“ 

“no, satoru. i already told you, if you don’t want to do it then i—“ 

“okay, i’m doing it. i’m doing it.” 

you close your eyes when he punctures your skin, waiting for the feeling to subside. it's just a prick, but you still have to think about getting the mail, going to the store, taking a shower after this, or maybe just crawling out from your own skin and becoming a spirit.

but satoru seems to recognize this, maybe from your face, and he asks, “what kind of curse was it?” 

“dunno?” you breathe out, mapping a picture on the ceiling in your mind. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i can't remember.” 

satoru looks up. “what?”

“it’s all a blur,” you say, wanting to shove his hands off of you. you've been trained to kick people away, so it's really not your fault. “i think i won though.” 

“i don’t think this is winning.” 

“keep going,” you tell him, instead of arguing. “i’m fine.” 

satoru tsks but does as you say, resuming the smooth movements of suturing. any normal day, you'd probably want to watch his hands work, want to inspect his job and make fun of him for the way he holds his breath while looking at an open wound.

“how were the kids?” you ask him, after a moment. 

satoru breathes out, nodding. his hair is messy, his face slightly wrinkled from sleeping still. “they missed you.” 

“it was only a day. did megumi get that book report back yet? he was worried about it before i left, but i told him—“ 

“i missed you.” 

you look down, forgetting about pain or blood. “what?” 

“i miss you,” he says, this time, like it’s any different. satoru keeps his eyes down, his hands moving. but there's a guilty look on his face--something that tells you he didn't mean to say anything. 

“satoru…” 

“are you still mad at me?” 

you tilt your head. “mad? why would i be mad at you?” 

“you haven’t been coming to bed,” satoru answers, obviously.

your eyes widen. “satoru—“ and there’s a sharp pain in your side. 

“sorry,” he murmurs, softly, at your flinch. 

“i’m not mad at you,” you tell him, trying not to double over. your voice is high-pitched and breathy. you feel like a child—ridiculous and foolish—but it doesn’t stop you from speaking. “i was never mad at you.” 

“you weren't?” 

“you asked me for space. i was just giving it to you.” 

satoru pauses, looking up at you. 

“i… i didn’t want to push you into talking to me. i thought—i don’t know, that maybe things had changed. i mean, we don’t have to…” you wince, and it’s not because of the pain this time. “to sleep together. or in the same room. if you don’t want that anymore—“ 

“no." 

"no what?" 

he shakes his head. "i want that."

“satoru, you’re not going to hurt my feelings—“ 

“i was wrong," he cuts in, voice rough. you don't think you've ever heard him say those words before. "i don’t want space, i never did.” 

you blink at him, brows furrowing. “then why did you…” 

“i—“ he stops. looks around. “does it hurt?” 

and you know, just as you know most things about satoru, that he can't continue. that the truth is going to cut just a little bit too deep--deeper than your injury--and he can't bring himself to say it. 

so you only take another deep breath, pushing away the feeling of your skin being patched back together, and nod. 

“a little,” you say softly. 

an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you, and breathing gets a little bit easier all of a sudden. 

maybe it wasn't the pain. maybe it was just the tension, the build-up of days apart. 

it makes sense, even to your slightly fogged-over mind. 

and then the two of you sit there while satoru patches you up, sharing a glance every couple of seconds—a glance with so many words, so tender and feeling that it succeeds in making you even dizzier. blood loss has nothing on the way satoru makes you feel. 

you can't see his hands--don't dare to--but you can feel the softness of them, the care he's taking in stitching you up. 

if it were any day, you would laugh at him for it. but right now, you just accept it. bask in it. 

“how’s that feel?” satoru whispers to you, after he’s tied it off and wiped the blood from your skin. 

you don't bother to look down. really, you don't want to see the freshly sutured line on your abdomen, but also, you just want to keep looking at him. 

it's much more gratifying, at least.

“good," you say, voice stronger, easier. "is it going to scar?” 

satoru scoffs. “if you wanted untouched skin then we should’ve called shoko—“ 

“shut up,” you interrupt. “i’m not listening to the medical advice of someone who’s never gotten a scratch in his life.” 

“i let you scratch me.” 

“well, obviously, i’m the exception,” you smile at him, exhausted and sweaty and still a little out of it—but home. with him. 

and this time satoru actually smiles back. 

it’s a bizarre thing, his smile. the first one you’ve gotten in days and it wakes you up immediately. almost like realizing you’ve been in the dark for weeks, just getting a glimpse of the light. 

he's a peek into something more--unearthly. if the closest thing you get to divinity is satoru, then you won't complain.

“you okay?” you ask him, but you’re only teasing. 

“that’s my line,” he says. 

“you sure?” 

satoru leans towards you, forehead against yours. “i’m sure.” 

you sit there for a moment. satoru is usually the one clinging to you, but tonight you feel like if he moves away you might never get him back. 

so you sit there, make sure to hold him to you, secure with your hands wrapped around his biceps, his arms grazing against yours as he leans against the counter. 

you're probably a mess right now--your skin stained with blood that shouldn't be outside your body, your face covered in dirt, your hair and clothes drenched in sweat and rain. but satoru doesn't seem to mind, so you don't think about it too hard. 

he deserves it, at least, for making ridiculous assumptions. you have to get him back somehow, after all. 

after a minute, or two, or maybe even three, you clear your throat. “great. i’m alive, you’re… less annoying than usual. let’s go to bed.” 

“‘less?’” satoru gapes at you, but his laughter is unmistakable. 

“yeah, i know," you say, feigning shock, "i was surprised too.” 

he flicks your forehead but you’re still smiling at him. 

“okay,” satoru whispers, leaning back. “bedtime.” 

you rub at the spot around your wound one more time, already feeling the days of sore skin and itchy muscles, and then you push satoru so you can hop off of the counter. 

“hey,” he says, suddenly, stopping you. his voice is quick, almost lost. but his hands wrap around your wrists, keeping them between the two of you so you can't escape. and satoru's eyes are on your face, flickering between the different points of your skin, looking like he's just realized that he's lost something.

you raise a brow, but don't push back against his chest or try to pry his hands away. “what?” 

satoru swallows, still watching you. 

his eyelashes are long enough to touch his skin, and his eyes are blue enough to take up the whole world. you want to grin at the saturation of him--so much brighter than you've seen him in days--but you refrain. you don't want to scare him away. 

but you're not so eager to move. it's easy to wait on satoru, really--to wait for his words, to let him collect his thoughts--because you've only spent nine years studying his face. you've only admired the slope of his nose and the tilt of his chin since you were sixteen, and there's much more to be discovered. 

so staring at him is simple. especially when there's so much to look at. 

you have plenty of unmarked territory you need to take over. 

you keep a slight smile on your face while you wait, and eventually, satoru groans, hanging his head back. 

“what?” you repeat, laughing just a little. 

“can you stop looking at me like that?” 

“like what?” you nudge your head against his chin, and satoru glares at you. 

“i’m trying to be serious.” 

“oh, okay,” you try to push away your smile, but you can't. it's glued where it is. “i’m serious.” 

“you’re not.” 

“what is it, satoru? i’m listening.” 

his eyes meet yours, again, and you almost flinch. 

everything about satoru is forceful, except for the way he looks at you. the way his eyes relax, his entire face falling when you're both eye to eye. it's a look you've only observed on one person, in only one particular moment. 

and, you think, all of a sudden, it might be your favorite look. 

but you're still fed up with waiting. you're tired of his consideration, his contemplative eyes. you want satoru back--with his ridiculous laughter and stupid jokes. you want him irritating the sanity out of you and simultaneously bringing you to life. 

you don't tell him that though, because in this moment you'll take what you can get. 

any version of satoru is better than none at all. you’ve learned that the hard way. 

“hey,” he says, one more time. his smile is unusual, a frightened little thing. “i love you.” 

you freeze. 

your face falls flat, thinking of the words in a million different ways. you might've misheard him--but you're so locked in on him that it seems impossible. 

at once, you consider exactly what he means, so many different variations of the same thing. 

does he love you like your parents did, always too much but never enough?

does he love you like you love megumi and tsumiki—like your life depends on it? like you’d be wrecked without them? 

or does satoru love you like you love him? does he love you like it’s breathing? like there’s never been a choice in the matter? 

but, it's simple. a beat passes, three seconds of contemplation--just enough for the words to ring true throughout your body. 

the way he’s looking at you is enough to answer any question you have. 

satoru loves you like a promise, and nothing less. 

“you idiot,” you say, a sudden, day-breaking smile on your face. “don’t you think i know that?"

*

"should we wake them up?" tsumiki asks, walking up behind megumi, staring down at you both. she's rubbing her eyes, her hair slightly messy.

megumi considers it for a moment.

neither of them have woken up like this in a while. you and gojo are getting better at falling asleep in bed instead of on the couch.

but, at this point, megumi thinks that it's probably a habit. or just to annoy him.

gojo's face is shoved into your chest and your hands are tangled in his hair. the both of you have silly smiles on your faces, and seriously. how do you both manage to fall asleep in such uncomfortable positions.

"no," megumi whispers, yawning. "i can make breakfast. mom probably got home pretty late."

"okay," tsumiki says, still staring.

megumi rolls his eyes and walks away. honestly, what did he do to deserve getting two idiots for parents?

*

next part | series masterlist

[justporo]

Astarion sees you're almost falling asleep and will drag you to bed now!

I would need this on like a daily basis. And I guess so do many of you - so let the vampire drag you to bed and GO! GET! SOME! SLEEP!

It was so late it could have been called early. Outside you could already hear the birds chirping, cheerfully greeting a new day. Which meant that it was more than high time to crawl into bed. And doubly so because you lived with a vampire who fared even worse with sunlight than you.

But you were still crouched over your desk and the papers there.

Your eyes were tired. You barely saw what you were working on anymore. And you knew you could get this done when you were fully rested and it would only take a matter of minutes. But you were so desperate to finish this.

Unfortunately, you had a tendency to be very determined (someone else usually called it stubborn but you always pretended you had gone deaf all of a sudden when that happened). But this tendency had brought you this far and probably saved your life more than once. And you wouldn't be bested by this piece of work!

But your head was slowly falling, your eyelids growing as heavy as lead.

And you only jumped back up when you heard that certain someone enter the room, being purposefully noisy to make you aware of it. You were grateful for that because if the vampire had snuck up on you, like he was fully capable of, it might have not ended well with you being this exhausted.

“Slacking off on the job, are we?” you heard his familiar teasing voice as he came closer. You felt his presence as he leaned on the table around you - basically caging you with his arms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as usual. His lips were awfully close to your ear and the hairs on your neck stood on end as you didn't dare rip your eyes from your work.

“Don't you think this can wait, love?” he whispered now directly into your ear causing a hot and cold shiver to run down your spine.

But with this he had pushed the wrong button. Almost involuntarily you felt one of your eyebrows rise up and your lips forming a pout: “No, Astarion, I don't think it can wait.”

You turned your head around to face him and saw him smirk, making you even more annoyed at him. He leaned in closer, causing his chest to brush against your head now, his hands moved to cover yours.

“Do you really think a stack of papers can't wait more than your caring lover craving your calming touch?” he murmured with a pout that mirrored yours while his deft fingers freed your writing quill out of your angrily clenching fingers. You couldn't resist him long. His hands were used to open up more difficult things than your desperate grip on your writing utensils. Also his absolutely instrumentalized big red eyes he looked at you with were absolutely working their usual enchanting magic on you.

Not enough though for you to not make a snide remark about what was happening.

“Well, for starters the stack of papers doesn't talk back.”

“You think I'm funny, my love.”

“It also isn't as full of itself.”

A mockingly offended gasp while Astarion’s hands moved the papers out of your reach.

“My heart, you hurt me.”

“Ah see, it also doesn't guilt trip me.”

The vampire's hands wandered up over your arms to your shoulders. “I can't do right by you tonight, can I?”

“You could just let me keep working on my thing.”

A dramatic sigh and Astarion let his head fall forward and onto your shoulder. Then he let go of you and took a step back.

“Do you really want to keep working, dear?” he sounded sincere now and you suddenly felt true guilt as you looked at him. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, eyes still awfully wide and shining.

But the urge to not keep business unfinished still had you in its claws.

After a few heartbeats you opened your lips to answer, but-

“Too bad, you're coming with me now, my love.” Astarion exclaimed and with rogue quickness grabbed your chair by the armrests to drag it away from the desk and turn it around to him. “You need your beauty sleep, I can't be seen walking around with a walking corpse!”

You squealed when you felt your body get yanked around so quickly while your tired brain was almost incapable of catching up. Thus you were almost confused when you had ended up on Astarion’s shoulder a moment later.

There was no energy left in your body to resist this infuriating man any longer so you just played the part of dead weight draped over his shoulder - since he had already coined you as such - and couldn't stop yourself from giggling.

“See, darling, I told you: you think I’m funny.”

“It's just sleep deprivation talking.”

“Ah, so you agree with that too.”

You resisted to answer him with something he would only twist around again to fit his agenda. Instead you just slapped his butt you had quite the delectable view of at the moment.

Astarion hissed and just slapped your behind in return. You only giggled more.

“I should have left you at your godsdamned desk, let you fall asleep right there to drool on the papers,” he murmured under his breath and ended it with something about how ungrateful you were while he threw open the bedroom door; your favourite drama queen.

Then he made quick work to get you off his shoulders with an exaggerated groan which you were sure wasn't fully acted.

As soon as your body hit your soft bed the last of your energy decided to evaporate into the aether. You were almost falling over if not for the vampire's quick reflexes catching your wrists.

With quick fingers and more snarky remarks you had no power to reply to anymore he undressed you to your underwear.

And with more overly dramatic groaning and a roll of his eyes since you provided absolutely no help did he turn you to lay down. He carefully placed your head on the pillows which you thanked him for with a dreamy sigh. Your eyes closed on your own. The blanket was thrown over you and more rustling told you that Astarion was quickly undressing as well.

When the mattress shifted under the vampire's weight as he got into bed next to you you barely even noticed it anymore.

With final efforts Astarion dragged you onto his chest. Your arms slung around him and your legs tangled with his automatically - you had done so hundreds if not thousands of times already.

“All this work just to get you where you belong,” Astarion whispered to you and clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he began rubbing lazy circles on your back. You only hummed contentedly as you felt your body relax fully into him and his touch.

Your last half-coherent thought as you drifted off to sleep was that, indeed, you had to agree with him on this one: you were right where you were supposed to be.

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