#n: collab

[loonavrsl]

PinkPantheress learns about ARTMS and praises 'LOOP' by Yves 💘

"I was a fan of LOONA when they were together".

Source: cococoxo1215

[cherry-mash]

Happy Father's Day! (in USA at least)

Also have a prologue fic of this AU :D

first / previous / next

(PS: 'Ants on a log' is just celery, peanut butter and raisins. Great kid (and adult!) snack, but Sanji ain't about to even PRETEND to put bugs on his food, THANK YOU)

[shegetsburned]

❝ sensory night ❞ w. gyōmei himejima ੈ✩‧₊˚

.nsfw.smut.

underrated character collab entry !!

• — synopsis. himejima carries you to bed when you’re sleepy and tipsy after a gathering. one thing leads to another when you help him explore his other senses. • — a/n. it’s hereeeee. here’s my piece for the underrated character collab hosted by @honeybleed! ty again for letting me be a part of this. always love writing for my man gyōmei. • — wc. 3,7k

how long has it been? five? six years? you hadn’t had this much time to relax for years. you and anyone included at this small gathering. some hashiras gathered on the terrace, and some slayers gathered inside. for once, you were all decompressing and having fun. including yourself. you had drank enough booze to see blurred whenever you tried to get up from where you were sitting, words meddling themselves into your mouth. 

the stone hashira was watching you, as much as he could. when himejima heard your shiny laughter from the other room, he knew you were safe, it’s when it stopped that his brows connected in concern. he had to go take a look. 

sliding the wooden door to the adjacent room where some of your colleagues were gathered, he felt the pressure of the floor change when your back met the mat. it wasn’t long before the slayers made way for himejima’s giant stature to come over and gently pick you up, wrapping his arm under your back and knees. you were sound asleep. pretty little snores escaping your mouth. a warm chuckle made its way out of his lips when he heard how peaceful you felt between his hands. “i think it’s time for bed, precious one.”

the others laughed in unison before agreeing that your time at this gathering was over. your bed was waiting for you. 

gyōmei had been watching over you for years now. and you were certainly grateful for his presence. the wisest and strongest hashira looking out for you? you couldn’t have been more safe. 

but it wasn’t all innocent and you knew it. 

he couldn’t quite discern your facial expression when he was dreamingly staring a little too long. or how gently his words landed in your ears when he reassured you after a mission. or your blushing figure when he was standing always so close to you. 

oh. you were so grateful.

tuk 

the flask you had been carrying between your fingers made contact with the floor when your weight was lifted by his strong hands. leading you to your chamber was an easy task for the hashira. nevertheless, he wasn’t sure if he should leave or stay by your side. would you need more help later when you awoke? would you still be tipsy and unable to stand? 

why was it harder to make a quick decision when it came to you than on the terrain?

deep in his thoughts, gyōmei hadn't realized you had just woken up, still in his arms. it’s your giggle that alerted him. a soft and sweet giggle that could’ve warmed his heart if it wasn’t already so full of love for you. 

“gyōmei.” your sleepy voice reached him as he walked into the corridor leading to your room. you still weren’t on first-name bases after all these years so hearing it coming from you made his heart skip a beat., but his face stayed composed, as strong as ever.

“gyōmei, gyōmei-” you insisted, lingering on his name. you couldn’t quite figure out why you were in his arms in the first place but it seemed to not bother you when you searched for contact, placing a hand on his cheek with an impudent smile. “gyōmei. look at you, gyōmei.” your left thumb trailed his jaw before you extended your whole right hand around his other cheek. “your face is so soft, gyōmei..” 

you jiggled with his cheek, pinching his skin but he did not flinch. he wasn’t bothered, wearing his usual stoic demeanour, as he kept his gaze straight towards the door that was coming to your left. “you’re tired, small one. you should sleep.” if you had his perfect sense of hearing, you could’ve heard his strong heart beat faster ever since you laid your fingers on his face. 

he opened the door, with you still comfortably tucked into his arms before delicately setting you down on the squishy bed. you whined, now cold without the warmth of his body as you only wore that kimono that was barely holding on around your shoulders, revealing parts of your cleavage.

his eyes flickered when he heard a ruffle coming from your sheets where he had left you. he was standing on two knees beside your bed now, and you could’ve sworn he was taller than anyone you knew even when in this position. 

“gyōmei.”

“yes. what is it?”

he was always so patient with you. so composed and polite. so, was the moment right? was it right for you to continue your sentence and express these buried feelings you had felt for so long? 

“don’t you sometimes wonder...” 

hesitation drawn in your eyes– it was a good thing he couldn’t see.

“don’t you sometimes wonder what i feel like?” 

your words were followed by your hands wrapping around his wrist, slowly lifting his arm towards your face. 

he let himself be handled with apprehension and silence when he realized you were leading his hand closer and closer to your mouth. there was no resistance on his part when you moved it further, landing on your face. 

his hand was warm, scarred and calloused but it felt so soft against your skin. he was hesitant at first, all of his senses aleterted when he felt your body shiver against his touch. it was the first time he could allow himself to touch you so intimately. his hand cupped your jaw before slowly making its way towards your mouth. he pressed his thumb against your lips. it was such a comfortable gesture when he started caressing your upper lip, slightly opening your mouth with its movement. 

you couldn’t help but stare at him. the concentrated gaze he wore when he tried to memorize every inch of your lips made you nervously exhale. your hands were still wrapped around his enormous forearm as he took the lead from you.

the idea that gyōmei had of you was constructed only by the sound your voice made, by the wind caressing his face whenever you moved and by the musical chant of your laughter reaching his ears. all of it was enough for him to favour you. 

he didn’t only favour you, he longed for you. longed for more. longed for touch. he wanted to memorize the shape of your figure, the taste of your skin, the weight of your body, the sound of your moans-

he wanted to explore all of his senses with you. and maybe this time you’d be able to help him.

you couldn’t help but realize that he was completely silent when he moved his thumb past your lips without resistance. feeling your tongue and teeth was a whole new experience for him. a slight pressure applied with your teeth made him nervously inhale, but all you could hear was a deep groan when your tongue made contact with his finger.

while he inspected the interior of your mouth, you kept drawing small circles with your thumb still tightly gripping his forearm. you wanted gyōmei to feel welcome and not hesitate to feel more parts of you. 

you showed him by releasing your teeth around his thumb and sucking on it. he could feel his heartbeat all the way to his hands when you started to move your mouth. it was all so new and all so sudden, he didn’t know how to react to your invitation. he felt like losing himself. he wanted to lose control. 

you took your time, imprinting your lips around his thumb before letting him go with a sloppy pop. now that gyōmei had a taste of your saliva on him, he wanted more. as soon as you stopped, thinking he’d be too hesitant to continue, the gentle giant raised himself on one knee, leaning his whole figure on top of you and wrapping his hand around the back of your head. it was his turn to get a taste.

he started at the beginning of your neck, covering it with kisses and bites. It was slow and measured. he made sure he could remember every spot by heart before moving on to the next. his lips made you quiver as you uncontrollably let your head fall back with your eyes closed so you could get the whole experience. timid moans that he could hear so clearly hurried him to move downward to your exposed chest. 

you had never seen gyōmei like this. so imprudent. so eager to explore every single one of his senses with you without minding the consequences. he was already too deep.

when he shifted downward, you could feel his hand run across your whole body, tightly gripping and touching your shoulders, your waist, your hips. his breathing made the most sound when he opened your kimono, meticulously unwrapping the decorative obi string that kept the tissues together without even thinking about it.

gyōmei was so skilled with his hands, you had just now realized, and you too were excited to see what more he could do. under his strong and passive exterior, you knew he’d surprise you with his hunger. 

he started attacking your belly with his mouth when your upper body was naked, moving his hands further up so that he’d reach your breasts. his hands were huge when they grazed your nipples. he used one of his palms, slightly rubbing his skin against your pointy nipple. feeling a new part of you made his heart skip a beat. you were so small and frail under him. he could cup both of your boobs with one hand, but he waited. he waited patiently until a small whimper came out of your lips to play with you. 

he couldn’t hide it, the sole purpose for his next move was to hear more of these sounds you made that reassembled the most beautiful melody.

one hand firmly grasping one of your breasts provoked another sound before he rubbed his thumb on the tip of your nipple. at his touch, gyōmei could feel your body tense under him while he continued to make circles, taking care of one of your nipples, while his mouth did the work on the other. again, he was deliberately steady and torturous. with his tongue now flat against your nipple, he spread his drool around it. it was wet and sweaty and he loved it. he loved how it made you feel and loved how lucky he was to be able to explore your body like this. when his lips squeezed the tip, you reached for his head, planting your fingers on his scalp. he was immovable but it was mostly for you, so that he wouldn’t leave this perfect spot. 

when he finished working on your breasts both with his hands and mouth, he placed a last kiss under your right boob before moving his whole weight again. at the sudden stop, you lifted your upper body to have a view of his next actions and when you realized he was heading between your legs, panic settled in. 

“g-gyōmei.” half-drunk you tried calling to him. 

“it’s alright, sweet one..” 

even when he was whispering you could hear the power in his voice. you could feel his hand clutch around one of your hips and his exposed chest graze your pelvis when he lowered himself even more. one of his hands always stayed put on your chest but the other ran from your hip to your thigh. “let me rediscover myself with you.” 

and you let him. you were at a loss for words under gyōmei. even now, nothing about him was stiff. he was as tranquil as all the other times you had seen him, but something differed and you could feel it by the way he took care of you. he was lustful and stimulated. his giant figure towering over you earlier had undoubtedly made you flustered. you never expected to be so overwhelmed by all the attention he could give, but here you were, squirming under his large hands when he separated your legs. 

the mix of your sweat and body odour agitated his nose. it made him feel euphoric. he had no problem guiding himself to your naked pussy with one finger trailing along your skin to the interior of your thigh until he could feel your pussy.  when he did, his thumb played with your lips. feeling every curve by dragging his finger delicately, until he was satisfied. 

he waited a couple of seconds at your entrance before inserting his index in. feeling the wetness of your folds tightening around his finger made him flinch but he went deeper when he heard you yelp. one finger was already enough for you, you thought. it almost filled you and you couldn’t comprehend how he was so huge inside of you. 

you tried to close your legs but were unsuccessful under his strong hold. there was no way you’d be able to control your reactions now. grasping the sheets with one hand and your kimono in the other, the only thing you could try to do was hold onto something. unfortunately, gyōmei hadn’t had enough of your sweet sounds and started exploring your insides, fingering your pussy so perfectly. his hot breath against your skin only made your pussy pulsate around him more.

he felt everything around his finger, from the gummy interior to the slimy fluid that drenched his finger. without wasting any more time, he moved around which provoked a sudden cry. you couldn’t believe gyōmei was actually going there. you couldn’t believe that he was between your legs, working his way through your folds while you couldn’t do anything but stare at the silent man. 

despite his quietude, the feeling was exhilarating and he wanted more. soon enough you felt another one of his fingers enter your fleshy folds, making its way past your inner lips and joining the index, moving along with it. it made your back arch with pleasure when his fingers filled you entirely. his large digits made their way in and out in unison, searching for the spot that would make you twitch out of delight.

gyōmei took his time when he felt his fingers squeeze every time he went past that ring of muscle. he could intelligibly feel and hear the effect he had on you which made his hand clench around your thigh. 

while his fingers took care of the inside, he shifted his thumb landing perfectly on your clit. you could’ve sworn he had done this before but his eagerness made you think otherwise. he could perceive your positioning so distinctly. he knew when you closed your eyes, when you tried to silence your moans with a hand on your mouth and when you placed the other on top of his, towards your inner thigh. he could also sense that you were already so close to finishing with how he worked his way against your clit and how he had stretched you out easily with two of his fingers. 

your body tensed up as you tried to restrain yourself from completely letting go of the little control you had over your own body. thighs clenching, with your hand tightly wrapped around gyōmei’s, but he had little to no regard for your current state. 

he only wanted you to let go. but these sensations you both felt needed to last so that they’d left an imprint- so that he’d remember it.

“himejima-san.. please.” you begged when you squeezed the hand he had planted between your legs. you felt yourself so close to cumming, but the sudden switch to proper naming frustrated him and you felt him get rougher with his fingers. he knew it would cause discomfort if he tried to insert another one of his digits, so he maximized the hold he had on you. 

when gyōmei finally felt your body twitch with anticipation, he completely stopped his movement and felt moans of complaint through his ears. your head peaked up, brows connected in confusion. “h-himejima? why did you-“ 

he still wore a concentrated gaze when he took his fingers out, letting your plump pussy wrap them one last time, feeling every little inch of your walls against his skin. slimy fluid covering him and dripping out of your swollen and demanding hole.

gyōmei’s euphoric-like state sent shivers down your spine. his mouth was slightly agape like an idea had just blossomed in his mind. nevertheless, you could see that he was still captivated by the unique feeling you had procured him. his fingers were still grazing your skin when you felt a low grunt coming from the man as his breath tickled your skin once more.

you called his name once more but a sudden movement interrupted your words.

gyōmei lowered himself even more onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your thighs in a tight hold, easily moving your lower body along with him, until his mouth faced your empty pussy. 

when he was correctly positioned, he placed a trail of kisses along your right thigh, eventually sucking on the inner part and stopping towards your swollen lips as his warm breath landed on your skin.

“please. allow me, little one.”

his next words were followed by his hungry mouth against your wet cunt as you yelped out of surprise. flustered, with both hands on your mouth, you tried and muffled the next moans that were bound to come out, but gyōmei couldn’t allow it. he couldn’t allow you to silence the noises that made him feel all kinds of ways- that made him so hard. as a result, he extended one of his arms, effortlessly grabbing onto your wrists and pulling your hands down against your chest, before he continued to devour you any further.

it was when he parted your lips with his tongue that you let out your whimpers and it was like music to his ears. his mouth extended to the outside of your cunt, so he could easily suck on your nub before going back inside with his tongue. he had a large mouth that took such good care of you.

the taste couldn’t be described. this new mix of savour and odour was heavenly. it gave gyōmei a good idea of who you were and how you felt.  he was drinking out your soft and tired movements when you pushed your pelvis against his mouth. you let a long-ish moan when he lingered on your clit, a soft touch of teeth before completely engulfing it with his lips. sucking until he felt confident enough to shift to your spit-covered lips. 

to get a better grip, he pulled your legs further so they could rest on his broad shoulders. eating you out was like a dream come true. he could taste everything he had felt with his fingers minutes earlier. it awakened his senses and brought a whole new meaning to pleasure. his olfactory glands and taste buds were so stimulated that you felt deep groans and moans vibrating against your entrance that made you flutter. to hear such a composed and collected man lose his mind over you only pulled you closer to your orgasm.

a few minutes in and he had already explored every inch of your cunt, and you finally felt yourself coming. not wanting to make a mess and way too agitated to cum on gyōmei’s mouth, you tried to voice your concerns, tangling words mixed with pretty moans.

“g-gyōmei, w-wait-” 

he hummed against you, as if to approve. as if to tell you that you had the right to release yourself upon him. 

so when you gave up on containing yourself and with gyōmei’s encouragement you let out a long yelp, cumming all over his lips.

he drank you up, tightening his grip on your thighs while he enjoyed the sweet taste of your seed on his tongue. 

he stayed stationed between your legs for a while, properly sampling this new exquisite liquid and taking his time to savour it. he exhaled loudly before parting with your cunt, pressing soft kisses over your lips.

after a while, gyōmei finally decided to pull back completely, sucking at your inner thigh’s skin and taking in a final deep breath before lifting his gaze towards your face, with your sweet cum wetting his lips. he couldn’t see the state you were in, but could guess you’d be a mess.

sweating and trying to catch your breath, you had completely relaxed your body against him. your head lazily tilting back against the pillow, you had never felt more at peace. 

your orgasm had left your cunt pulsating, but the only thing you recognized was gyōmei’s fingers rubbing against your palm.

“thank you.” 

when you had enough strength to realize that he had thanked you, the sudden gratitude startled you. you lifted your upper body with one of your arms against the sheet while the other was still tightly gripped around his hand.

“you’re thanking me? himejima, why.. why are you thanking me?”

he raised his body with ease, all the way up so that he could stand above your naked figure, facing you. 

“sweet one. you taught me how to see without my eyes.” he murmured, as he moved his hand to wrap yours entirely.

“your touch, scent and sound have changed me. I have been waiting to explore these with you.”

his confession warmed your heart and you couldn’t help but stare at his face. he was still drunk on you but he spoke genuine words that made you uncontrollably blush. a cheeky smile appeared on your smile, fully surrendering to a hypnotic whirl of happiness.

that night, after a well-deserved break, gyōmei himejima had explored and reinvented the meaning of senses with your help; when you moaned into his ears, when he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, when he tasted every part of you and when your elated scent almost brought him to tears. 

although.. he did promise you he’d need more than one lesson to perfect his technique.

© shegetsburned 2024. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ don't let go, okay? | gojo satoru

wc: 2.1k

summary: it has to be some sort of fate that you happen to be stuck with gojo on valentine's day.

contains: f!reader, slowburn, fluff, reader and gojo are 21, reader and gojo are ‘guardians’ to megumi and tsumiki but they are not romantically together, japanese valentine’s chocolate tradition, reader’s cursed technique (vaguely), kind of pining

a/n: in the 'conversations on love' universe but takes place before the main series (would be nice to read but not necessary to understand this). theme song for this is what love is by zimmer90.

part of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within 'conversations on love'. also included in how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

The night is crisp when you step into it, the clean cut of a cool breeze tickling your cheek; it sweeps past you in the edge of winter and spring. 

You walk along the street. 

A sort of faded, vintage hue paints Shimokitazawa, wooden boards with worn down signages holding names of antique shops in every corner. The night feels older here, retro lights tinging bars and pubs more maturely than those nearby in Shibuya. At the street across, the sign of a cafe is flipped the other way to formally open the speakeasy it transforms into. 

You’ve only been here twice before: once with Nanami and Utahime years ago, while searching for old vinyl records the three of you had gotten into, and another with Tsumiki, some time last month because she’d mentioned wanting to check the thrift shops. 

Who would have thought you’d be back so soon? With—

“Satoru,” you call out, half-giggling, “why are you sniffing?” 

Gojo trails just a few inches behind you, body bent over closely to catch a whiff but not near enough to touch. Each inhale he takes is punctuated with the sound of whizzing air, condensing to fit through his nostrils. 

“You smell like chocolate.”

Out of all the plans you’d anticipated on Valentine’s Day, being roped into a mission with Gojo at the last minute was definitely not one of them. 

You shake your head knowingly, the corners of your lips curling; Gojo can smell sweets miles away, you could honestly mistake it for his cursed technique. 

He pulls back, falling into step with you. 

“Tsumiki asked me to help make some earlier.” 

Heavy jazz floats through the air as you pass by a bar entrance, the music muffling as the doors fall shut a few seconds later. Your boots clack against the pavement. 

“Oh?” Gojo perks up, voice turning an all-too-familiar hint of nosy as he teases, “What kind?” 

You snort as you dig your hands further into your pockets. For someone who claims to be all-seeing and all-knowing, Gojo is a lot more inquisitive than he seems; his nonchalance is but an added security much like his infinity is, dissipating only in company he’s comfortable sharing that side of him with. 

It’s been a while since Gojo’s been ‘home’ in the past week, so you don’t blame him for wondering. 

“Tomo mostly,” your gaze shifts to the side, waiting for his reaction, “though I did notice her sneaking a few honmei ones when I wasn’t looking.” 

There’s a slight stagger to his step as his shoulders tense up, his sunglasses shifting higher as his ears push back. You bite down your laugh. 

For as clueless as both you and Gojo are when it comes to being guardians to Megumi and Tsumiki, you think Gojo’s grown an odd mix of semi-brotherly-kind of-fatherly-mostly-guardianly protectiveness over the both of them—to Tsumiki especially. You can tell because his reminders to Megumi are always sealed with some form of ensuring Tsumiki makes it home safely. 

‘Home’, which is where the kids stay, but it’s neither yours nor his—just a place nearby that keeps them protected and comfortable. You’re with them most days, Gojo staying when he can, but with the higher-ups assigning him on missions left and right, there’s hardly any time for him to drop by. Hell, you haven’t seen much of him either, besides the rare instances of bumping into him along the halls of Jujutsu Tech, a whine almost always drawn from his throat. 

You see his curiosity as an effort to check in.

He only hums, hollower than his usual responses. The sound of his footsteps fill the gaps of what would typically be a seamless back-and-forth with you; you try not to comment on it. 

Indinstinct chatter brings the street to life, smooth beats cascading warmth against the chilly breeze. Despite the noise, Gojo’s silence feels unsettling—as if there are words forming at the tip of his tongue, withheld for reasons you can’t quite get a read on just yet. 

So, you wait, learning more and more that he usually comes around when—

“Did you?” 

The question is half-murmured, part of it lost to the night. 

Did you what? Notice Tsumiki?

“Hm?” you tilt your head towards him, tucking strands of hair behind your ear in an attempt to hear him better. 

He doesn’t answer. 

You stop walking. 

“Did I what?” you adjust your coat before turning towards him, catching the slightest of his gaze before he looks away quickly.

(“Did you make honmei chocolate?” he means.) 

Still, no answer. 

The tips of Gojo’s ears dust pink, and you try not to comment on that too.

His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, slipping free before his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he changes the subject, removing his sunglasses and turning back to you as if none of it happened. As if he didn’t ask you anything, as if you didn’t ask what he meant—as if you didn’t just catch him at the tail end of a wistful stare. 

The shift in his tone happens so suddenly, it feels disjointed. Unnatural. But you’ve gotten used to moments like this from knowing him for so long; Gojo always says less of what he truly means. 

You focus on his face, yellow and red retro lights dancing on clear blue. He looks almost freakish this way, otherworldly—a crazed look you’ve gotten familiar with. His hands are stuffed inside his pockets when he stops, gangly long legs outstretched by the shadow beneath him. 

There’s really no time to be doing this right now, the both of you just 10 minutes away from the mission’s location—an abandoned building housing a special grade curse that lures people in with fabricated memories. Around you, the neighborhood’s nightlife has dwindled, your walk thus far having brought you farther from the heart of the place and closer to somewhere quieter, more secluded. 

Gojo looks too excited, eyes beaming wonder and mischief along with something else you can’t quite figure out yet. You purse your lips in thought. 

“C’mon, it’ll be quick.” he smirks, the dimple on his cheek deepening as he shrugs, “I’ve finally perfected it.”

A beat—skipped before your heart races. 

You wonder if he knows, if he’s using this to his advantage, because—

—when have you ever denied him when he looks at you this way? 

The higher-ups should have known better than to pair you together for a mission. Your instructions were merely ‘to assist’, but you hardly believe it considering Gojo almost always handles these things on his own. It’s more babysitting, you know, to keep the damages of his technique to a minimum. 

They shouldn’t have called on you, of all people—you’re on Gojo’s side. Always. 

A smile threatens to escape your lips, warmth spreading within your cheeks; you roll your eyes jokingly, stifling a giggle before relenting.

“Fine.” 

He guides you forward, chest bumping against your shoulder blade as he picks up pace. It’s a clear road ahead of you, the streets emptying out to more greenery; your senses are filled with the smell of the earth mixed in with the faint cotton of Gojo’s cologne. 

This is bad for your feelings. 

(Being this close to you feels like the ticklish drag of fingernails just right before it creates indents in his chest.) 

There’s something brewing between you and Gojo, neither of you have just addressed it yet. He pulls away when the moment is too close but still looks for you first after missions, an almost automatic question to either Shoko or Ijichi about your whereabouts.

You’ve been catching his stares too, almost always at the split-second before he turns away—a reaction on impulse. The silence between you feels fuller lately, as if there are words he wants to say but is choosing to withhold. 

When the space is vacant enough, he steps a few inches to your right, left hand stuffed inside his pocket as he shakes his arm hesitantly, almost awkwardly. 

“You have to hold on to me,” he instructs you. 

Your eyes widen, equally surprised and shy as you slowly take your hand out of your coat and slip it into the empty space, resting it on the crook of his elbow. Gojo freezes very slightly. 

He shakes it off just as quickly, “You might be sensitive to my domain because of your technique, so stay close just to be safe.” 

Then, his head tilts towards you, a little closer than you’re both used to. This near, his eyes hold a perfect morning sky, eyelashes hanging like wispy clouds on a clear day. 

Your gazes meet and you blink twice, goosebumps littering your skin. 

“Don’t let go, okay?”

Another beat—followed by another, and another, the sound of it growing louder. 

You almost miss the way he says it gentler than normal, how sincere it feels with his breath tickling your cheek. 

“Okay,” your fingers curl around his arm tighter. 

He lifts his other hand up, crossing his fingers as he recites the mantra to his domain. In an instant, the greenery around you disappears, stark white taking its place. 

“What do you think?” Gojo asks almost immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. Your fingers stay curled onto the crook of his elbow, sandwiched between his forearm and bicep; his other hand rests a few centimeters away from yours, nearly touching. 

You scan the space, examining its vastness. Minimalist. A blank sheet—

“It’s…” you try to find the right words, “... empty?” 

He gasps exaggeratedly, “Hey!” then pouts in fake offense, “I made it porcelain white at least. This isn’t pure white you know.” 

You eye him from the side.

He chuckles, breaking his act, “You should be honored.”

A pause—his tone shifting to something softer, more vulnerable. 

“You’re the first person I’m bringing in here.” 

His admission is unexpected, but it feels relevant, makes you feel like it, too. 

You’re touched, knowing how secretive he’s been on perfecting his domain since Toji and Geto; he only ever tells you and Ijichi about it. No one ever pressured him into achieving his perfect domain, but he feels like his existence necessitates it. 

“It’s clean,” you finally say, playing along, “I like it.” 

He eyes you this time, dimples deepening the more he attempts to poorly push down his smile. 

“Shame I can’t really do much with it, would have wanted to spice up the interiors a bit.” 

You snort, knowing full well that Gojo’s very much the type to pick one piece of furniture and anchor the entire place’s aesthetic off of that. 

“Someday,” you catch his eyes again. 

(It echoes in his ears, the quickening thump of his heartbeat—pink noise that can’t possibly be a product of your technique. 

In the silence of his domain, all he hears is that sound and you.) 

He hums before looking back to the empty space, “Acoustics would be good by then, we can try your technique in here.” 

You nod, the corners of your lips curling; his pinky presses against yours so faintly you wonder if you just imagined it—if he had meant it or not. 

. 

The special grade is dealt with within a quarter of the time it took you to travel to here, but Gojo seems to bear the consequences with another one of his migraines—a mixture of fatigue from activating his domain earlier along with sensitivity from the increased bustle in Shimokitazawa’s night life as you exit the neighborhood. 

You make a mental note to get him something that covers his eyes a little bit more than those circle frames he uses—an imbued blindfold maybe? You’ll have to think about it some more. 

(When you both get ‘home’, you set up the couch, offering him the spare bedroom so he can sleep off the headache. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen for a glass of water when he catches a glimpse of it—a fully decorated box of honmei chocolate partially hidden at the corner of the counter. 

The card has half of his name written in your handwriting.

You don’t end up giving it, but he does receive some chocolates from you, still. It’s a belated gift the next day, along with the ones you gift to Shoko, Yaga, and Ijichi—a tradition you’ve kept up since you were 16. 

But, his box has an extra piece, and you even tailored each one to all his favorite flavors: sakura, strawberry, zunda, and anko; his card is the same one you left half-written, just now fully spelling ‘Satoru’. 

So, he thinks his might be a bit more special, and he’s realizing that he likes it that way—he might prefer it much more, actually.)

a/n: haven't written col in a while but this is the official launch of 'do you know what love is like?', a mini-series of almost's within the 'conversations of love' universe! there are lots of details that connect to some of the col works but this happens before all of the ones released so far (so you don't need to read the main series to understand this, but it would add to the full experience if you do!).

thank you notes: @augustinewrites love u my valentine, this fic wouldn't exist without you 🥹 + @stellamancer col couple is here!! with chocolates!! thank you for going over this for the first read 🥹 ily niku + @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat my cheerleaders!! thank you for the support always 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[simplygojo]

Another Speeding Ticket

Author's Note: Hey y'all, tysm for all the love n care you've been sending me. I am basically back to normal now, so lets assume our resume Kinktober schedule..haha.

Spooky Szn Masterlist

This kinktober oneshot includes a Kinktober Prompt request, I hope you enjoy ;) I am getting very smutted out, so I unfortubatly will not be able to complete all of your requests! I will try my best, even if I finish them in November, but thank you guys so much for the support!

Pairing: Cop!Nanami x f!reader

Request: This request was by @aurorascorpio, although I slightly altered it. I hope you enjoy :) The request is linked here for any interested <3

I also included a few other anon requests in this fic, so I hope YOU ALL ENJOY!!! (shoutout to 🐜 !!)

Kinks: Spanking, Overstimulation, Edging, Size, Brat Taming, Breeding & Gun Play

Word Count: 2.2K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, gun play, fingering, spanking, size kink, overstimulation, breeding, brat taming, aggressive sex.

The sound of your engine roaring down the empty highway was almost therapeutic, the thrill of speeding through the night air intoxicating. 

But as soon as the familiar red and blue lights flashed behind you, your heart sank. Not again.

You groaned, already knowing who it was. Every time. It was always him.

You pulled over, slamming your palms on the steering wheel in frustration, and your forehead followed, leaning against it in defeat. 

You didn’t even need to look in the mirror to recognize the tall figure walking toward your car. 

His slow, measured footsteps sent your pulse racing, not in fear, but in a way that made your body heat.

Nanami Kento—your boyfriend—who was also a cop, and didn’t mind giving you speeding tickets despite your relationship.

Blonde hair slicked back, face perfectly composed and stern, his broad shoulders filling out his uniform almost too well. 

You swallowed as he approached, your heart hammering in your chest. This was probably the fifth time he’d pulled you over in the last month alone, and each time, his scolding made you feel like a naughty child being disciplined.

But this time felt different. There was a tension in the air you couldn’t quite place, an edge to his movements, like his patience had finally run dry.

He tapped on your window, and you rolled it down, biting your lip as his sharp eyes locked onto yours.

“Step out of the vehicle, Miss y/l/n,” Nanami’s voice was clipped, no room for argument.

You blinked, your stomach doing nervous flips. "W-wait, is this really necessary? I wasn’t going that fast—"

“You were going twenty-five over the limit. Again,” he said, his tone hard as steel. His gaze pierced through you, making you shrink back. “Step. Out.”

You hesitated but did as he commanded, heart pounding in your chest. 

The night air was cool against your legs as you stood beside your car, your skirt fluttering slightly as you faced him.

Nanami stood tall in front of you, his jaw clenched, looking every bit the no-nonsense cop he always was. 

There was a certain dominance in the way he towered over you, the stiff set of his jaw making your breath hitch. You could practically feel the weight of his authority pressing down on you, making your knees weak.

“I’ve warned you so many times, y/n,” he sighed, his voice lowering as his frustration bled through. “And yet here you are, speeding again. Reckless.”

“I-I’m sorry, really! I swear this is the last time—"

“No. You don’t get to talk your way out of this one,” Nanami cut you off, his tone sharp. 

“You don’t seem to learn your lesson. Maybe I need to teach you a different way.” His eyes darkened, and before you could process what was happening, he grabbed your wrist, spinning you around and pressing your front against the side of your car.

You gasped, heart racing. “Wait—what are you doing?”

“Bend over,” he ordered, voice deep with authority.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand pressed against your back, forcing you into position. 

You could feel his presence looming behind you, his large frame towering over your bent form. 

The cold metal of his gun on his waist grazed your lower back as his hips pressed into you, and the weight of it sent a shiver through you.

“You’ve been a brat every time I’ve caught you,” he muttered darkly, his hands sliding down your waist, roughly pulling your skirt up to expose your panties. 

“Maybe it’s time I put you in your place.”

The thrill of it all made your thighs clench together, heat pooling between your legs. You squirmed, trying to protest, but he was having none of it.

“Be a good girl, my dear,” he commanded, his voice laced with danger. “Or do I need to use more force?”

You shook your head, biting your lip, already feeling the wetness soaking through your panties. 

“No, sir…”

His large hands roamed over your ass, kneading the flesh before giving it a sharp slap. You yelped, the sting sending a rush of pleasure straight to your core.

“You like that, don’t you?” He growled, landing another smack, harder this time. 

The sound echoed in the quiet night as you gasped, body arching against the car. 

“You act like a brat, and you’ll get treated like one.”

Another slap, then another. 

The rhythm of his spanking had your ass burning, your legs weak. You were dripping, your panties clinging to your slick folds as he continued his punishment.

Without warning, he yanked your panties down, leaving you completely exposed to the night air. 

Your heart raced, both embarrassment and excitement swirling together in a heady mix.

Nanami’s fingers slid between your legs, teasing your entrance before slipping one thick finger inside. 

You moaned, your body instantly responding, grinding back against his hand. The stretch of just one of his fingers was enough to send a surge of heat through your core, your walls clenching around the intrusion, desperate for more.

“So eager,” he muttered, pleased with the way your body reacted to him. 

“My job is to enforce the law, and teach people lessons when they break those laws…” 

He unholstered his gun, the metallic sound making your pulse quicken. 

The cold barrel pressed against your hip as his fingers moved inside you with deliberate slowness, curling against your walls. 

The juxtaposition of pleasure and danger sent a shiver down your spine.

The pressure of the gun against your skin made you gasp, your body arching against the car. 

He wasn’t rough, but the weight of it was enough to remind you who was in control. His thumb brushed against your clit, applying just enough pressure to have you trembling beneath him.

“You don’t learn, do you?” Nanami murmured, his voice deep and steady, even as his fingers slipped deeper, hitting a spot that made your legs weak. 

“I’ve warned you time and time again, and yet here you are, acting like a reckless brat.”

You whimpered, pushing back against him, desperate for more. But Nanami wasn’t having it. 

He withdrew his fingers almost entirely, barely grazing your entrance as you squirmed in frustration.

“Stay still,” he commanded, the gun now resting against your waist as a cold reminder. “You don’t get to decide when you get what you want.”

Your hips moved on their own, seeking the friction he was withholding, the need in your belly tightening like a vice. 

The absence of his touch left a hollow ache, but his control over you kept you teetering on the edge of submission.

Every time you felt yourself climbing toward release, he would slow down, making you gasp in frustration. 

The ache between your legs grew, your need for him becoming desperate, but you couldn’t bring yourself to beg. Not yet.

His fingers slipped back inside, slow and deliberate, rubbing against that sensitive spot that made your legs shake. 

“Look at you,” he muttered darkly. “All that attitude, and now you’re desperate for me.”

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to moan too loudly, your pride still intact despite the torment. 

But Nanami could read you too well, knew how close you were.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he taunted, his thumb brushing over your clit in maddening circles. “I can feel how badly you need it. How you’re shaking for it.”

“Yes…Yes sir” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop it. 

Your pride wavered as the pleasure coursed through you, leaving you trembling against the car.

Nanami hummed in approval, but instead of giving you what you craved, he pressed the gun harder against your skin, reminding you who held all the power. 

His pace slowed again, the edging cruel as your body throbbed with need.

“Have some patience, my dear” he growled, his voice dangerously low. 

His fingers worked you with precision, drawing you to the edge once more, only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink.

Nanami’s grip on your waist tightened, the authority in his touch clear as he held you firmly against the cool metal of the car. 

His voice was low, commanding, as he muttered darkly into your ear, “If you don’t learn, maybe I’ll have to give you something to remember. Maybe putting a baby in you will finally get you to listen.”

Your breath hitched at his words, heat pooling between your legs as the weight of his intention sank in.

His fingers left you aching, desperate for more, and before you could respond, Nanami moved swiftly. 

His belt clinked as he unbuckled it, and you felt the heavy press of his cock against your slick entrance.

The size of him alone had you gasping, your body trembling with anticipation.

Without warning, he pushed into you, his cock stretching you wide as he filled you completely in one rough thrust. 

The sensation of him deep inside you made your legs buckle, and you braced yourself against the car, the overwhelming fullness leaving you breathless. 

He was so thick, so impossibly big, that it felt like your body was struggling to take all of him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Nanami grunted, his voice strained with restraint. His hands roamed your hips, holding you steady as he pulled out only to slam back into you, his pace rough and unrelenting from the start. 

Each thrust pushed you forward against the cool surface of the car, your ass burning from the rough spanking and your body tingling with overstimulation.

“Such a fucking brat,” he growled, landing another sharp slap on your ass that sent a jolt of pleasure straight through you. 

“Maybe this will finally teach you to behave.”

The sharp sting of his hand contrasted with the deep, pounding thrusts of his cock, and you could barely keep yourself together, the combination of pain and pleasure sending you spiralling toward the edge. But Nanami was far from done.

He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, 

“You’re going to take every inch of me, and you’re not going to cum until I say so.” His thumb found your clit again, rubbing tight circles that had you clenching around him, desperate for release.

The pleasure was too much, your body trembling as you felt your orgasm build, but Nanami wasn’t giving you the satisfaction. 

He pulled back slightly, dragging his cock out of you slowly, only to slam back into you with such force that you cried out, your hands scrambling for purchase against the car.

“You think you can just do whatever you want?” Nanami taunted, his hips snapping against yours with punishing force. “Breaking the rules like a spoiled brat? Not anymore.”

His pace quickened, the force of his thrusts driving you closer and closer to the brink, but every time you felt yourself teetering on the edge, he slowed down just enough to keep you from falling over. 

The overstimulation had your body shaking, desperate for release, but Nanami wouldn’t let you have it.

His words sent a shiver through you, the promise of him filling you making your body respond in ways you couldn’t control. 

You wanted it, wanted him to finish inside you, to claim you in every way. The idea of him filling you with his sweet release, of the possibility of it taking, had your thighs clenching with need.

“Please,” you whimpered, your pride shattered as you begged him. “Please, let me cum…”

Nanami chuckled darkly, his hand landing another sharp slap on your ass before he picked up the pace, fucking you hard and deep, his cock hitting spots that made your vision blur. 

Your body tensed, teetering on the edge once again as he fucked you harder, the pleasure overwhelming as he pounded into you. 

His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing with brutal intensity, and the combination of his size, the stinging spanks, and the threat of being filled finally pushed you over the edge. 

You were practically seeing stars as you felt the familiar sense of pleasure begin to creep up on you.

“Cum for me,” Nanami commanded, his voice sharp as he thrust into you with one final, deep stroke. “Take it all.”

Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as you came hard, your walls clenching around him as you milked his cock. 

The intensity of it had your legs trembling, and you barely registered Nanami’s groan of satisfaction as he followed you over the edge, his cock twitching as he spilled inside you, filling you with his cum.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, his voice muffled as he squeezed the skin on your hips tightly, staying buried deep inside you as he emptied himself, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned down. 

“Maybe now you’ll finally listen.”

Your body was spent, your legs weak as you leaned against the car, panting and trembling from the overwhelming pleasure.

Nanami stayed inside you for a moment longer, making sure you felt every bit of him before he finally pulled out, leaving you breathless and full.

[therekinperson]

Doing a fake collab challenge, draw your goat, lamb, nari, whatevs as the sketchy red person (as presented)

emptys + inspo--

Have fun!

[heartorbit]

MERRY CHRIMMIES 🎄❤️💚🍬🌟❄️

[loonavrsl]

250621 [💌] Loossemble will feature on a yet-to-be released song by singer June

Hyunjin:

Also Loossemble featured on something and that hasn't been released yet ㅜㅜ It's for a singer named June Featured starting in verse 2

Translation by: litell_johnn

[lenny-link]

Epic doodle page with @kahzthesick ‼️‼️

[makkiwyy]

Collab with @haako060!!

I love doing this 💛💜🫶

[h8ani]

In which a silly thought of teasing Rindou for a month would be fun, but after a simple week he would surely snap and make you remember why you should never play games with him

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: fem!reader, dacryphilia, edging/orgasm control, rough sex, reader is alluded to squirting, mean!rindou, potential dubcon, choking, established relationship, masturbation (male)

Here is my submission for @wakashawty NNN collab! This is my first collab ever and was so so so fun to do!

Something about Rindou is, don’t test him. He isn’t one for jokes and there will be consequences even if it’s meant as a joke.

You thought it would be funny, a comical lil thing to do. If you were smart and had even an ounce of self-preservation, this thought wouldn’t have crossed your mind, the thought being discarded as you went on with your day. But yet here you were. Wanting to participate in No Nut November was supposed to be a little joke, you must’ve taken it too far because now you found yourself bent over the back of the couch, hands pinned behind your back, and being edged for what seems to have been hours. You never meant for it to go this far yet here you are.

Rindou’s thrusts are rough and unrelenting as he fucks up into you, his grip on both of your wrists keeping you in place draped over the couch. The sound of skin slapping skin is all you can hear, constantly ringing in your ears as your pussy continues to take the abuse. You felt the wetness drip down your thighs followed by the sickly squelching sound your pussy started to make, you wince once you felt Rindou’s cock still from within you. Embarrassment wasn’t the word you felt while you were powerless over the couch, you were mortified. Rindou pulls his cock out of you and you feel a quick ‘slap’ against your pussy. His fingers gather up your slick before pushing two of his digits in knuckle deep eliciting a choked out moan from you. Rindou kneels down so he’s eye level with your dripping core now, a proud smirk appearing on his face. “Oh? What’s this? Are you enjoying yourself?” He curls his fingers hitting your gspot perfectly, your legs tremble as he starts finger fucking you. “You’re not meant to enjoy this.” He tsk’s from behind you, fingers slamming against your pussy allowing the wetness to drip down your legs.

You try to twist your wrists free, the feeling of being defenseless was something you weren’t particularly fond of, you hated it really, preferring to hold him close to you and have your hands roam across his body— he knew that of course. He knew everything about you, from the way you loved having your hair played with when you had a long day and were sleepy down to what you loathe, but you weren’t meant to like this; this was a punishment for a stupid idea that was brought to fruition.

You hear him groan suddenly, thrusts slowing down and a sigh slips past your lips as you think it’s all over now.

Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He says, voice ever so present in your ears.

Rindou sees you tense up, your body stiffening once you hear him. He has to fight back another groan once you involuntarily clench around him.

Rindou doesn’t particularly care to be like this with you, never a fan of “punishing” you if that’s what this even is. He fucking hates being teased, but you knew this, so why did you even try?

“Babe!” Rindou hears you call, your footsteps heard climbing up the stairs. “Babe! Babe! Babe!” You rush into his room with a smile coming across your face. He raises an eyebrow, curious as to what you were so excited about.

“What?”

“Guess what we’re going to do together this month?” Your smile only gets bigger as you speak to him.

“Thanksgiving?”

“Wha? No! Well yes, but not the answer!” Tired of guessing already, he gives you a bored look and waits for you to continue, hands motioning you to finish what you wanted to tell him. “We’re gonna do No Nut November!”

“Absolutely not,” Rindou says quickly which only leads to the most devious smile you could muster.

“Too bad! If I’m playing then you have to play!” You exclaimed before slipping out of his bedroom before he could interject again. You were serious about playing the game too, he knew you were. What he didn’t know was just how dirty you would play it. He could deal with you purposefully grinding your ass into him at night, that was nothing new to him. What he didn’t expect was the tease of a century of you sending lewd photos of yourself while he was at work.

Once his phone vibrates against his desk he thinks nothing of it when he sees your name pop up with a notification of a text, you always send texts while he’s at work. Clicking in his password he clicks the notification only to slam his phone hard against his desk. The photos sent were of you, in a short mini skirt bent over with no panties on, he could see only from the waist down but he noticed your fingers gathering your own slick, slim fingers prodding your entrance like you were teasing yourself. Rindou picks his phone back up to see multiple photos sent that he couldn’t look away from, another text comes in from you ‘ Wish you were the one touching me:( ’ His face now the shade of a tomato and cock pressing hard against his slacks he stands up abruptly and marches down to the single stall men’s restroom. Fingers lock the door quickly and tug his pants down even faster until he finally fists his cock. A low guttural groan leaving him while he thinks of fucking you in that mini skirt, how he wouldn’t even let you touch yourself one bit and allow him and only him to touch you. He strokes himself faster while his thoughts run rampant, precum leaking past his tip until he spills the rest of his seed all over his hand. Rindou curses internally once he looks down to see the mess, head falling back against the stalls door. Once he got home, your little game was going to be over.

To his surprise, he had more restraint than that. In your eyes that was a green light to keep going, you continued, and continued, and continued to tease him. Until one day, you wore that dress, that one fucking dress. The one that you wore on your birthday that brought back so many memories to his mind, specifically memories of him stripping the dress off of you. The dress you were wearing drove him up the wall. You couldn’t plan to wear that and expect him to keep his composure like he did the past week, you just couldn’t.

He knew that you knew what that dress did to him, how the satin snug around your curves in the most perfect way that he went crazy for. So you coming downstairs acting as if you were going out, that didn’t fly with him.

“Y/n” the tone in his voice was enough to send shivers down your spine, you dared to glance over your shoulder to see him standing up. “Come here.” He says simply. You may like to tease and play games but you knew better than to argue, especially with the way Rindou was looking at you.

You made your way over to him, the only sound that could be heard was of your heels against the floor. Once you made it in front of him, his presence seemed more threatening than it was when you were a few feet away. Slowly looking up at him you’re met with his cool lavender eyes, staring so emotionless back down at you.

“I’m only going to say this once. Bend over, before I bend you over myself.”

You were tired yet you needed more, you needed to cum. Constantly being brought to the edge only to be pulled back was a pain you never knew before.

A gasp escapes from your lips once you feel his arm slip in front of you and press two cold silver ringed fingers to your clit. The pressure is enough to bring you back to a high so quickly and make your legs shake. “Please…” you whimper while pushing your plush hips back into his own. Instantly his fingers still against you, hot wet tears beginning to well up in your eyes. The frustration and growing pain in between your legs reaching a new all time high.

“Please what?” His head tilts to the side although you couldn’t see it.

“Wanna cum, ‘m sorry.” You try to grind down into his fingers to alleviate yourself, you expected this not to work in your favor, what you didn’t expect was for Rindou to let your wrists go that he held, the dead weight of your arms falling forward ached from how long they were pinned behind your back, you rubbed your wrists, moving them around in the process.

You’re pulled up by his strong and steady hands, spun around to face him, suddenly making eye contact with him brought a suffocating tension in the air you didn’t feel when your back was the only thing that faced him. The air around you is so weak and brittle, feeling as if it would snap at any moment if given the chance. Your eyes met his with an alertness as he stared through you, the stress from the situation you put yourself in was evident even to him. His stare was uncomfortable, it was meant to be, making you squirm just from a single look from him. Your breath felt constricted as you finally spoke. “Baby…” you say, eyes stinging and rimmed red. You blink and let the stray tears fall, hand quickly wiping them away as you utter, “Please.”

His face softens, arms dipping and hooking around your legs so you can sit on top of the couch, instinctively you wrap your legs around him. “Tell me, love,” he positions himself at your entrance while he speaks. “What month is it again?”

“November?” You say confused, legs spreading to allow him in further. “Why are you asking? What are you getting at?”

“What was that little thing you wanted to do called again? No Nut what?”

“November…” you glare at him, irritation running high now. You begin to close your legs but his hand that was holding onto your waist stops you, causing you to hold yourself up on the couch now. His grip on your thigh is rough as he pushes your legs open further.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? It’s the name of the game sweetheart.” He smiles, a deep chuckle erupting from him. “You’re not cumming, end of story.” With that he pushes in, burying himself to the hilt. A sob rips out of you once he starts fucking you at a brutal pace, the way he still has any energy to continue, his pace unwavering was unbeknownst to you because you were tired, drained even. He was so deep and it was sending your mind into a frenzy making you dizzy with each thrust, your own body wanting to give out and let Rin take you as he pleases.

Tears rolled down your cheeks with every slam of his hips against yours, Rindou just laughs, grabbing your cheeks with one hand simultaneously squishing them, you muster enough strength to glare with the tears blurring your vision. “Don’t you look cute crying, you mad at me now? ‘s that it?” He angles his hips in a way that has you crying his name out, thrusting upward he hits the spongey spot within you that sends your legs into a spasm. You feel your stomach tightening up for the nth time tonight. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulder as you feel yourself so, so close to your orgasm.

Please, please, please.

You were ruined. Silent sobs were let out as you hooked your ankles together, a desperate move for him to stay inside of you. Rindou watches the way you blink more tears away, the hopeless look you had as you stare up at him, silently begging him to allow you to cum. “You gonna quit it with these games?” He brings his hand to your cheek, thumb wiping away whatever tears that continue to fall. You nod almost before he can finish, a slight peek of hope appearing on your face. “You pro-”

“I promise! P-Please, please I wanna cum, I need to cum Rin.” You shakily blurt, pulling him in even closer, feeling him even deeper than before.

“You pull this shit on me again and I won’t be so nice next time.” He says before slipping a hand in between you two, you feel his fingers press against your clit, moving in quick circular motions.

It should embarrass you how quickly the knot in your stomach tightened up, you should be even more embarrassed with the sounds you were making, how pathetic you sounded, but you didn’t care, all you cared about was your impending orgasm and how it will be the best damn orgasm of your life.

Rindou thrusted up into you roughly, now pulling away his hand which elicited a desperate whine from you which he quickly shut down. He wraps his hand around your throat squeezing ever so slightly, your attention now centered on him. “You cum from my cock, understood?” Nodding as well as you could, his grip tightens around your throat, fingers pressing in just the right spot that makes your head tingle. His pace quickens, thrusts still rough and hitting you just right. You were breathless, eyes glazed over and head spinning from the lack of oxygen, but who needed to breathe when all you wanted to do was cum.

Unperceived to you, you clenched tighter the longer you were without any air in your lungs. Rindou groans while watching you with lidded eyes as he feels himself nearing his nth orgasm of the night, thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic. A strangled gasp leaves you as you suddenly feel the coil inside snap, your body overcome by the pleasure consuming you and the mess you were making. Your body shook against his and Rindou releases his grip on your throat. His hands now hold your waist as he finishes inside of you with a grunt, his hot cum pumping inside you, painting your insides white as he rides out his high.

Your mind was spinning, unsure if it was from the sudden oxygen rushing to your head or from the intense orgasm. You slump against him with an exhausted huff, Rindou runs his hand through your hair as you both calm down, the heavy breaths from you both are the only sound that can be heard.

“Learn anything today?” His voice suddenly heard, barely having any energy you lazily nod, head tilting up from against his chest.

“Yeah, November is for Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving alone.”

@bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network

[musings-in-spades]

hey lear community is this anything

[sunkissedscribbles]

☆ 𝑀𝐸 𝐼𝑁 𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑆𝑊𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐸𝑅 – 𝐻𝑂𝐺𝑀𝐴𝑆 𝐷𝐴𝑌 𝟹 

PAIRING: fred weasley x reader SONGS: i'd say heather by conan gray but there is no heather. just you, in his sweater on the 3rd of december

☆ HOGMAS 2024 LIST ☆ MASTERLIST ☆ TAG LIST ☆ KIARA'S PART

You would’ve never thought you’d ever see the day Fred Weasley got a girlfriend. He was silly, always showing his mischievous and childish side to the world, earning applaud and angry scoffs at the same time – as well as longing gazes of girls who you saw as a hundred times prettier than you.

You would’ve never thought he had a serious side to himself either, hiding behind the prankster persona he used as a shield, as a subconscious self-defense mechanism against those he didn’t know just how much to trust.

And you surely hadn’t taken it as a possibility that Fred Weasley himself, would ever take an interest in you. Not seriously, at least. For a prank? Maybe. But not like this.

And yet, here you were, sitting at the breakfast table, wearing his sweater against the cold weather, and to make it obvious and official: you were together, you were his girlfriend.

You hadn’t even had time to process anything before you felt a hand slipping something into the pocket of the back of your jeans. A flash of ginger hair caused the frown on your face to grow into a heartfelt smile as you reached into your pocket for the note your boyfriend had just put into it.

“You look bloody beautiful in my sweater. It looks better on you than it does on me<3 – F.W.” it read, only making the grin grow further, so much that you had to bite down on your bottom lip.

Looking up from the paper your eyes met his, gleaming with a mix of mischief, adoration, and love as he took the sight of you in his sweater in once again. And if it had been on him, he’d never have taken his eyes off you.

tag list: @mattiesgf @inksoakedparchment @girllblogging777 @myysunshine @yelanare @mamartinez @s00ty-feet

[chanranghaeys]

🥂 a tale of two lonely souls

pairing: idol!minghao x gn!bar owner!reader word count: 1.4k+ genre: fluff rating: pg tags: christmas fic, open ending, meet cute in a bar, yes it’s yet another slice of life from me, minghao is cocky as always but you’ll love it bc reader will make minghao realize he’s found his match at cockiness warnings: alcohol, drinking, mentions of multi-race parents, reader owns a bar in this setting

a/n: i’m so honored to be part of @camandemstudios’ A Very Seventeen Christmas Secret Santa event for this year and surprise @ylangelegy, i’m your secret santa! 🥳 bless u kae, here’s a little gift for you for making me feel so many things this year bc of your fics 🫶 merry christmas and happy holidays to y’all!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“All alone on Christmas Day?”

The hooded figure at the bar looked up from their phone. You notice their fingernails painted in shades and lines of black and glitter that glinted under the lights. When the figure pulled down their hood and face mask, you realize that the man looked startlingly familiar. You just couldn’t place from where…

“Maybe,” he replied. A slight smile graced his features, a welcome warmth from his initially cold aura.

“Well, that makes the two of us alone on Christmas.” The place was empty, save for two tables with a few customers—one large group, two duos, and this man on the bar counter.

It was a few hours before the end of Christmas Eve, and this recently opened Asian fusion bar had yet to welcome its throng of guests. In hindsight, maybe setting it up in a more secluded area of Itaewon wasn’t the best decision.

“If that's the case then maybe we’re not alone.” He gestures his finger between the two of you. You roll your eyes at the attempt to lighten the mood.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” He tilts his head curiously.

“Being alone.”

“Why not change it then?” He steeples his hands and rests his chin on them, his eyes studying yours as if trying to decipher a puzzle—as if he was used to analyzing people quietly.

It was unsettling…but you liked the challenge.

“Well, why don’t you change?” You counter back at him.

“Change what?”

“You being alone.”

He snickers. “Why don’t you get me something to drink first?”

“Alright, Mr. Bossy,” you say with a raised eyebrow and a matching smirk. “What are you having?”

“I heard you have Kweichow Maotai. That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Interesting. He’s a man of taste. The way the Chinese syllables easily rolled off his tongue gave you further evidence of his identity—you just needed one more clue.

Without a word, you turn to face the wall of bottles to find the spirit you’re looking for. But before reaching for the iconic white-and-red bottle, you stop yourself.

“You know what, it’s Christmas.” You turn back to him with a smile. “I’ll get you something special.”

You return with another bottle of Maotai—but he instantly recognizes the difference from the one at the bar. His eyes widened the moment you came in holding the gold bottle tied with a red ribbon.

“No way you have that.” He marveled at the sight in front of him, his eyes filled with seeming reverence. “How—”

“That is a story for another time. But now, please enjoy. I’ll just charge you the regular Maotai rate, don’t worry.” You wink and hand him the small tulip glass, full to the brim.

“Just tell me that I’m not drinking a shot of illegally-sourced vintage Maotai.” There it is again—the analyzing look.

“If it were, then I’d be out of business. Can’t have that then, can we?”

“Of course not.” The man raised his glass to meet your own. “I can’t lose my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea now that I’ve found you.” The light brought the ring on his pinky finger to your attention. Suspicion confirmed.

You didn't reply, but opted to down the contents of the small glass—potent but familiar. He followed suit. You hoped that the warmth that bloomed in your mouth and your chest didn’t manifest itself too much on your cheeks. You could blame it on your Asian flush anyway because you had to give it to him—he was surprisingly smooth with his words.

“This is the rare moment I get to be alone,” he said after a beat. “Believe me, I wish I had more of it, but my parents are arriving here tomorrow from China. So no, I will not be as alone as you think.”

It took you a moment to realize he was continuing the conversation from earlier. “That’s nice. Why are you here in Korea then, if you’re from China?”

“Who said I was from there?”

“Well, you have parents coming from there.”

“Who’s to say that they aren’t coming home here?”

“The way you said Kweichow Maotai was too smooth.”

He shrugged deliberately. “I know Chinese.”

“I know Chinese, too. You can’t fool me.” You said this in perfectly placed Mandarin. The look on his face was priceless as he was rendered speechless.

“I cannot believe you managed to surprise me twice in one night,” he replied in the same tongue.

You smirked and poured another tulip glass for the both of you. “Glad to know that I managed to surprise a K-pop idol tonight. And in my bar, no less. Xu Minghao, correct?” You push the refilled glass and meet his ever-analytical eyes. It seemed like you knew how to play his game, after all.

The smile he returned was ethereal. “To whom do I owe the pleasure of tonight’s company?”

And that’s how you spent the remaining hours of Christmas Eve, with conversations as free-flowing as the Maotai and whiskey and bar chow. You learned that his parents’ flight was actually delayed—he was actually on his way to the airport—and he learned that your Chinese is courtesy of your father’s heritage and your Korean address from your mother.

You also ended up telling him the story about the vintage Maotai, which had him in stitches by the end of it. Thankfully, the bar had long been empty and your staff had all gone home.

“Why haven’t you left then?”

“You might’ve forgotten that I own this place.”

“And how does it not have more customers at this time?”

“It’ll pick up soon. I’m sure of it.”

Minghao pursed his lips in thought. “Give me your Maotai bottle. And a marker.”

“The vintage one?”

“No, the regular one over there!” You obliged to his requests, and he returned the liquor bottle with a freshly minted autograph from Seventeen’s The8.

Why didn’t you think of this earlier? It might be because the whole time you were talking, he didn’t even seem like an idol. He was just…a guy. A frustratingly charming and quick-witted guy.

“Merry Christmas to you and this wonderful place.” His examining gaze was long gone, replaced by eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled wide. “Thank you for…making me feel safe.”

“Merry Christmas, Minghao. Everything’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

“Absolutely not.” He brandished his card and pushed it to you. “I will not rip off a starting business all because of celebrity status.”

“I didn’t say it was for your celebrity status.”

“Still.” He was insistent. He took your hand and placed his card in it. “Charge me as necessary.”

You were just as insistent, though. “No.”

“Fine. Then give me your phone.”

You did. And he input his personal number in it.

“I have to go now, but please message me. I mean it.”

You did. And the back-and-forth banter didn’t stop. Surprise remained an element in your dynamic, apparently, because the conversations seemed as natural as the days transitioning from one to another.

You didn’t catch when Minghao took photos of your place. But the moment he posted it on his Instagram, customers started coming in waves. This secluded corner in Itaewon has never had a lull day since Christmas.

New Year’s was no different. After the festivities and the celebrations, it was finally time to call it an early morning at 3 am. But not before you welcomed your last customer.

“Alone on New Year’s as well?” You hold back a smile when you find him standing at the door. The way your heart was beating was undeniable, and you knew you couldn’t hold that back.

Up until then, you didn’t know if you would ever see Minghao again beyond your messages. They became more occasional as time passed, but you knew enough from his stories that their schedules were not to be underestimated. Seeing him here now was—as expected from your dynamic—a surprise.

“No. I’m with my favorite Maotai supplier in Korea, how can I be alone?” He drew closer to the bar and to you as if you were reeling him in with an invisible string.

“I thought your parents brought you a bottle last Christmas?”

“It isn’t a vintage Maotai, though.”

“What makes you think I’m bringing it out tonight?”

“Because we’re starting the new year together. I’d say that’s a cause for celebration.” And bring it out you did. As if you could resist him.

Before you can open the bottle, he grabs it from your hands to pour out the drinks himself. As you two raise your glasses, he leans in close, and you see nothing but an openness in his eyes. Warmth. Hope. “Happy New Year to you, then.”

“To us. Happy New Year, Minghao.”

Your glasses clink and your Maotais are downed. It would seem that happiness is on the books for the year ahead.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: pleaseeee i felt so pressured to write for u (looks at my inbox with full knowledge your request still lies there unwritten fskf) ((i promise i’ll get to them)) but i hope i did minghao justice. i was very much inspired by your own minghao fics skl hehe and tbh this is almost less of a drabble and more of a potentially longer fic but i held back bc gah. merry christmas again and i hope you liked my pamasko, kae! 🎄🎁✨

post post a/n/n: ALSO thank you to @tusswrites for quick beta-ing this one even tho she wasn't supposed to bc she's also in the same event and apparently you can't do that HAHA thank you still all love mwa

[aixeko]

Hi good evening, morning or afternoon Aixeko. I was wondering if you could write an intersex Arlecchino x fem reader who spend their wedding night on the beach.

𓆩♡𓆪 “ DID I DREAM THAT WE DANCED FOREVER,

in a wish that we made together, on a night that I prayed would never end ” 𓆩♡𓆪

| Starring | Newly-wed Intersex-Service-Top!Arlecchino x Pillow princess?Reader

| Setting | Wedding night on the beach

| Scenario |  [ REQUESTED WORK | SHORT FIC ] SMUT! With tooth rotting fluff. Pronouns are not used, only female anatomy is used. The children call the reader by the title “Mother.” Soft Arle. Skinny dip. Semi-Public love making. Aftercare. So fluffy it’s making me barf rainbow. Arle is mainly referred to as Peruere. Not really proofread.

► RADIO CHANNEL [Author note]

× My first request, had to prioritize this first over my current w.i.p arle fic lmao × This also reminded me of my first fic of Arle, which is the "Peruere" one, it's exactly how I imagine their wedding was like 🥹 Perhaps those who read it can take it as a little prequel to the fic × Anyway, I assumed you wanted smut from the intersex Arle part so here it is, no angst which is surprising. Hope you enjoy <3

[ Word count: 2240 ] | Art credit: Nuiilar on Twitter

The harmonious voices of the children's choir sound through the velvety night sky, their melodic tones blending in perfect unison with the tender moment unfolding before their very eyes. At the sight of their father dipping their mother for an intimate kiss, the children can't help but be sent into fits of gleeful excitement, ending their synchronized orchestration.

You all but chuckled at the audible jubilation; you could practically hear their eyes sparkling with enchantment as they cheered and clapped upon witnessing such a rare affectionate display between their parents. Even after the mandatory altar kiss, the kids were still bubbling over with joy, perhaps influenced by such an intense, delightful air of love.

The kiss lingered, time seemingly freezing in tune as if the world melted and revolved around you, suspending this tender moment to an everlasting core memory in a sea of recollection. Yet, with much reluctance, you were the first to break the magical spell laid upon her lips, pulling away despite your heart's yearning to savor the embrace just a little longer. After all, you were still in the presence of your children; you wouldn't want the situation to escalate to something much too inappropriate in a public setting.

You sense a slight disappointment from Arlecchino as your eyes open to absorb one another's souls once more. The edge of your lip twitches upward into a knowing smile, and Arlecchino, who notices it, can only shake her head in infinitesimal embarrassment at her sudden need to be as impossibly close as she can be to you.

You lean in close, hot breath trickling against her pierced earlobe as you whisper, "Quite eager are we now, my dearest, Peruere?"

Your voice is laced with playful teasing, yet your vocals do not reciprocate the soul; your body, betraying your hypocritical saying with the factuality of reality being that every fiber of your being is aching with desire for her; you can practically hear your heart racing like a dog off its leash, a clear evidence of your struggle to contain the passion that threatens to consume you whole.

The laughter in your throat burst out of its confinement as you saw a tint of red painting her cheeks. The infamous Knave, Arlecchino, the fourth of the Fatui Harbinger, a woman of near godly power and the Father of the House of the Hearth, whose shyness is one of a thousand lifetimes' worth of rarity, has fallen prey to your shenanigans. Despite the silliness of it all, a warmth envelops your heart in gratitude for having a chance to live in a lifetime where she, whose heart is covered in frost, can blaze in your presence.

The discordant atmosphere slowly faded to one of a gentle breeze, the moon rising to its fullest, symbolizing the dead of the night, where beauty arises in the silence of humanity. Under its moonlit gaze, you drag Arlecchino with you, grinning and laughing like the carefree days when the world was a simpler, less complicated place, one in which your shared young minds felt like their rulers.

Footprints imprint the sand, lasting mere seconds before being washed away by the shore like those traces have simply never existed. Reaching what seems to be the midway point of the enormous coastline, you release your hold on your lover to dance a few inches away, allowing your body to embrace nature's hug.

You let out a sigh of contentment, letting your arm remain outstretched while your eyes linger on the moon. A smile creeps upon your face at the familiarity of such a scene, more specifically the one who illustrates it similarly.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?" You questioned, turning to look at her with closed-eyed grins.

Arlecchino—Peruere, who had not once settled her gaze on where your perspective retained the attention of nods in agreement. Because once the world was obstructed by its blind spot, she had surveyed its scenery and details like an ancient book lost in the depths of falsehood. She had watched her world countless times, wondering how she had been so fortunate to stumble upon such treasure. How can someone like you allow someone like her to take your hand in a marriage vowed to withstand beyond life and death?

"My dear Pierre, are you alright? You seem to be in a daze of sorts."

Half worried and half-amused, you made your way to her, pressing a palm against her forehead to check if the woman had contracted a fever, knowing full well it was rare for such a thing to occur.

"My enchantress, had you not satiated yourself enough with this relentless amorousness?"

Arlecchino's words have you in light giggles; you had not intended for her to feel seduced by you, but it seems your obliviousness has added fuel to the caged flame since the next thing you can render is her lips against yours.

You're left stunted for a while before finally, your body relaxes within her embrace, returning her eager kiss with equal ferocity. You can feel the air in your lungs being drained lifelessly out of its source as if a vampire has wrapped its sharp fangs around your frail neck. You struggle to keep up with the intoxicating atmosphere, trying desperately to chase after her momentum while still maintaining a semblance of control to leave oxygen for breathing.

"Per—peruere—" You choked between the small gap of the kiss, barely allowing even a whisper; no longer are you able to stand in the same balance as hers.

Her ears luckily picked up on your pleas, and immediately she pulled away, allowing you to inhale and exhale in rapid motion in the sudden presence of oxygen once more. She's apologetically whispering countless expressions of regret to the point where her mother tongue and dialect slip into the mixture.

"No—no, it's okay. I-I'm fine now, just... I didn't expect you to be so pent up." 

At your own words, your eyes linger on the bottom half of her body, your point being proven further by the observation of the large bulge that is threatening to be released from confinement. Arlecchino didn't say anything, either out of shame or at a loss for words in the situation that she let advance despite her usual meticulous calculation of actions.

You mentally estimated the distance and the time that would be wasted in making your way to the resort and decided that the sea was much closer.

"Shall we dive into the sea? You look like you require some cooling, do you not, Peruere?"

You speak of teasing remarks whose tone is masked by an innocent facade, making sure to emphasize your point by allowing your body to press up close against her tall, defined stature, an arm around her neck, and another palming the growing arousal. Arlecchino finally registers the escalation of the situation and opts to play along with this little game of yours.

"We shall, my bride."

Without a moment of hesitation or an added explanation, your lover brought your lips against hers, all the while undressing you with practiced ease. You didn't protest her actions, mirroring them by both the kiss and the clothes, which were tossed to who knows where, but amidst the mayhem, you deliberately saved the most anticipated removal, her pants, for last to savor the tense sexual air a little longer.

The moment you have your hands on her zipper, Arlecchino lifts you by the knees, causing a gasp of shock to escape from your swollen lips. This moment of withdrawal allows you to see that she has not worn boxers the whole time and how truly ravenous her cock is with the way it stands tall, twitching.

She carries you into the cold water, and once inside, she leads you to a boulder, remaining silent throughout. This leaves you speechless, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, partly from a lack of words and partly from the freezing temperature.

"All talks with a lackluster action to speak for, and yet you still refuse to commence your needs when necessary; you have not changed once since we were kids."

Fiery energy erupted from Arlecchino's hands, casting a flame not strong enough to scorch you but one that emits gentle warmth throughout the cool surroundings. The burning fire danced harmlessly, its soft glow illuminating the dark space, creating an inviting scenery in contrast to the abyssal one. It paints your features with luminosity; such radiation makes both of your details more prominent for one another's enjoyment.

"Mn, sorry, love, it seems old habits die hard," you whisper, now in a much raspier and softer tone due to the recent past event that conspired.

This time, you take the initiative and lean in for a kiss. What sets this moment apart from the others in spite of the short range of time is that this is driven by a pure, heartfelt love that comes from the very core of your being—and you can tell it is the same situation for Peruere.

Through lidded eyes, you pull away slightly to consent to her entrance. "Go ahead, Pierre. I'm sure it's starting to hurt, and worry not; I promise you that I will mention any sort of discomfort," you murmur, your voice low with reassurance.

Peruere is hesitant as she presses you lightly against the smooth boulder—not that she doesn't have faith in your words—quite the opposite, really. She wouldn't admit it to you, but whenever it comes to lovemaking, the woman is absolutely restless; having you so close and so vulnerable is a core memory everlasting in her heart, yet she's afraid that one day she might accidentally hurt you in some way, somehow, pathetic, isn't it? She is so deeply in love with you that any brute force against you could practically kill her as well.

It wasn't until you pressed a soothing kiss against her temple that she obliged and inserted her throbbing member inside you, starting slow with just the tip. Regardless, a pleasured whimper betrayed your will, excitement coursing through your veins at her entry. This singular expression of enjoyment is all it takes for Peruere to continue, and sure enough, the full length of her consumes your wall like a perfect piece dug through a pile of unmatched pieces in a puzzle.

You arch your back, a hand covering your eyes as she begins to fasten the pace of thrust, a clear sign of a soon-to-be thrilling momentum and a now comfortable adjustment to a once ocean of anxiety.

"Ah...! Mmm... Just like that, Peruere—" Your voice hitched at the sudden intrusion of her mouth against your neck and the tip of her member pressing on your g-spot.

She elevates you higher against the stone, allowing her to be in position for a deeper reach within your core; meanwhile, her free hand uses its thumb to rub against your clitoris, and the added love marks all over your neck and collarbone have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was only a matter of time before your body felt the sensitivity of the stimulation at its maximum, followed by a quickened heart rate, capricious breathing flow, and tension in the muscles around the pelvic area. Clear symptoms of your upcoming climax.

"Peruere—Please, Oh Archons! ... Don't stop!" You cry, practically clawing her back.

Peruere follows with your desperate plea, allowing her to do what she is best at by hitting your g-spot at the precise time, and she is quick to swallow your moans with a feverish kiss as you come to your long-awaited, blissful orgasm.

She keeps her cock inside, thrusting at a gentle and slow speed to prolong your enjoyment in exchange for her own needs. When you come back to your senses, your energy is practically nonexistent, at which point you feel guilt forming when you realize you won't be able to return her pleasure. Sensing your worries, she plants a kiss on your ear, whispering sweet nothings to ease your blameworthiness.

"Stress is not good for the heart, little dove. My pleasure does not account for the one I am rewarded with by seeing you in euphoria; now do not taint this moment with sorrow. Rest now; I will deal with everything."

A small smile curves at the edges of your mouth, a mental note in the back of your mind forming to thank her for this moment later. Safe and content with her, you fall prey to your exhaustion, resting in utter peace without worries, knowing your Peruere is here to protect you from the accursed world.

꧁ᬊᬁ𓆰𓆪ᬊ᭄꧂

When Arlecchino is sure you're comfortable and clean, she finally decides to take care of herself and opts to go for simple nightwear.

She sits on the edge of the bed, a tender expression consuming her face at your moonlit features in such tranquility. Even when you are not conscious, she still feels as if she is protected just by being near your presence, as if away from the judgment of the world where no name of the Knave or Arlecchino is mentioned, a world in which she is only known as Peruere by her one true soulmate.

Peruere, who grew up with nothing, finally has everything she ever wanted.

Arlecchino slips in under the cover, her arms engulfing your body in a protective cocoon.

With you,

Peruere has a reason to live. 

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ] × Am I slick? No, not all.

[ccazimi]

Epistle to the Wolves

Chapter 1

chapter index

cw: blood, hostage/captive situation, nipple/breast play wc: 1.9k a/n: this chapter's more like a prologue tbh?,,, the other chapters will be more interesting guys i promise

You wake to the sound of pages being turned—slow, deliberate, like someone savoring each word.

Shapes move in the shadows. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of a single exposed bulb hanging overhead, swaying slightly.

A basement, probably. You can smell the mildew and rust, the sharp bite of blood in the air—your blood.

A film is caked along your temple, dry and flaking. Behind your eye, pain pulses steadily, like something blooming in your skull.

Your arms are sore and heavy.

Chained.

The realization crawls up your spine slowly, like ice.

A voice slices through the silence, deep and amused.

“This one’s my favorite. The deer that smiles. The smile’s what makes it, don’t you think?”

You turn your head with effort, your neck protesting the movement.

He’s sitting in a chair across from you, one ankle resting over a knee, a notebook in his hands—your notebook. The one you never meant anyone to read.

Sukuna looks exactly like the photos—and so much worse. His hair is a dusty blush, almost too soft for the man it belongs to, face sharply drawn, jaw shadowed in stubble, black tattoos curling along his skin like vines. And where one eye should be, there’s only ruined flesh.

But it’s the other eye that holds you, red as a wound, watching you like you’re something caged and trembling.

“Tell me,” he says, flipping to the next page, “Why do they smile when they die in your stories?”

You don’t answer.

Your throat is too dry, your heart too loud.

He stands slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, save for the echo of his footsteps on the concrete as he walks toward you—each one measured, almost theatrical.

“You know,” he murmurs, crouching in front of you, “I thought you were just another parasite in heels. Flashing your little badge. Pretending you’re saving the city by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

His hand grazes your knee in a gesture that’s disturbing in how casual as possessive it is.

You jerk back, but the chains give little room to retreat and the metal bites into your skin.

“But this—” he lifts the notebook “—this is something else.”

He flips a few more pages. You watch him with wide eyes as if he might strike you.

Instead, he traces his finger over one of the lines, then another.

“The way you describe the deer’s breath. The way the hunter feels when its blood runs hot over his hands.” He looks up at you. “Do you even hear yourself?”

You try to pull your gaze away from his, but the room is too small for cowardice, his gaze too scrutinizing.

“Those stories weren’t meant for anyone,” you finally croak out.

He chuckles, something low and sinister that makes your skin crawl.

“Oh, but they were.” He leans in, voice a near-whisper. “They were meant for me.”

He reaches up and brushes a lock of hair from your face, smearing the dried blood at your temple. His thumb lingers on your cheek before dragging slowly down to your cracked lips.

“Open.”

You don’t.

His other hand moves fast—one palm braced under your jaw, tilting your head back until your throat is exposed.

He presses his thumb between your lips. You taste blood. Yours, maybe his. You don’t know—you don’t want to know.

When he pulls back, you’re shaking.

You wish you were angry, wish that you wanted to scream, to spit and thrash about, but the shame crawling up your spine is worse than fear. Because part of you, some wretched, trembling part, is responding. Not to the pain, not to the alarming situation you’ve been thrust into, not to the fact that you’ve been kidnapped and are being held by someone whose influence runs so deep you could vanish without so much as a whisper.

To him.

“You wrote these stories for yourself,” he says, standing again, flipping the notebook shut with a snap. “But they read like confessions—like love letters.”

You glare at him, and it takes everything not to look away.

“Fuck you.”

His grin spreads—slow, cruel.

“Patience, sweetheart. We’ll get there soon enough.”

Your mouth goes dry, but he’s already moving on.

“But first,” he hands the notebook to you, placing it on your lap. It’s open to that story, and you already know what he’s going to make you do before he says it.

“Read it out loud.”

Some kind of humiliation ritual; he already knows what’s in those pages.

Your stomach knots as you shake your head. “No.”

His breath fans across your averted cheek as you try to stare at the walls of the room. Anywhere but at him, at those words sprawled out in what you’re sure is your handwriting.

“I wasn’t asking.”

Still you don’t move.

You’re pushing your luck, you can feel the silent threat of defying him growing like pressure around you, but something keeps you utterly frozen in place.

Sukuna tuts softly. He reaches around you and grabs the back of your neck just tight enough **and guides your face down toward the open page.

“Read. Or I’ll start choosing what gets read out loud.”

A droplet splashes against the paper, blurring the ink. Another streams down your cheek as you lift the first page with trembling fingers.

You inhale once, unsteady.

And begin, trying your best to ignore his presence—easier said than done, of course.

“The hunter hadn’t meant to feed the doe, that creature which was all ribs and wet eyes. But when he held out the apple, and she came so willingly, he wondered if maybe she was asking for it—asking to be tamed.”

Sukuna hums in satisfaction and kneels behind you, slipping his hands under your shirt—palms cold against your skin. The sudden contact makes you jolt, notebook nearly slipping off your lap.

“Keep going,” he murmurs into your hair.

You suppress a shudder, words faltering a bit as your heart pounds in your chest, though you push forward.

“He took her home. She followed him without a sound. At first he didn’t touch her. He just watched. The way her ribs moved when she breathed. The way her lashes quivered when she slept.”

His hands slide up your stomach, over your ribs, thumbs tracing the lines of your bones, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

You pause to swallow the lump forming in your throat, and continue.

“He fed it with his own hands. When it licked the blood from his fingers after butchering other animals, he laughed and called it clever.”

You hate how frail your voice sounds, how it comes out higher than you mean for it to—especially when his hands crawl higher and higher along your torso. A soft gasp escapes you when the sharp edges of his nails graze the soft swell of your breast, teasing over the tender skin.

And then they skim along the peaked bud of one of your nipples.

You twitch, the words break.

“I… I can’t focus when you—” Your voice trails off, caught between a plea and an accusation. The words don’t even feel like yours anymore.

Sukuna doesn’t move his hands from under your shirt. Instead one cups your breast, enough to hold the weight of it, till you can feel the heat that flows under the cool surface of his skin, thumb sweeping deliberately over the stiff bud—until he pinches.

Hard.

Pain stabs through your chest and you inhale sharply.

“Focus isn’t yours anymore,” he says, cool and unflinching. He twists the bud slightly, till you wince, trying to pull your torso away. “It’s mine. Just like the story. Just like…this.”

He lifts your shirt up all the way, fully baring you, gaze dropping to the way your tits heave as your breath comes faster. You can’t meet his eyes, especially when he leans in, mouthing your pert nipple.

“Keep reading,” he murmurs, heat ghosting against your skin. “Or I’ll teach you the kind of focus that screams.”

You open your mouth but it feels dry, too dry. So you try again, eyes flicking back to the paper, trying to ignore the sudden warm wetness of his tongue pressing to your sensitive flesh, circling the areola with a ring of saliva in quiet deliberation.

“As spring came, the fawn grew large. Its eyes followed him everywhere,” you pause involuntarily when his tongue lifts away from your nipple, leaving it slick with sticky saliva that cools in the air. He barely gives you the slightest warning glance before you’re already continuing.

“*It never ran, never resisted. It watched him eat. It watched him sleep. It stood outside the—*mmph!”

You bite your lip, trying to muffle the little moan that accidentally slips out when he presses his warm lips to your aching bud again, and sucking it harshly between his teeth. In between the slight pinch his tongue laves around, soothing the mild sting.

But in a second you do your best to recompose yourself.

“It stood outside the shower door, waiting. One morni—ng,” the word breaks a little midway when his hand kneads your other breast, rolling the nipples between his fingers. “—he led it deep into the woods.”

You pause, hesitating.

His mouth releases your breast with a wet pop, your nipple hardening further at the sudden chill.

“Go on,” he whispers, lips trailing to the soft flesh on the underside of your breast. You nearly choke on air when he nips at the skin there, teasing it, nibbling on it gently between sharp teeth.

But you force yourself to read.

“Without a word, he slit its throat. And… And as warm blood poured down its neck, legs kicking like wind-tangled branches, it looked up at him and smile.”

You pause again, sucking in a shaky breath.

“A wide, human smile.”

The room is dead quiet after—it makes you feel even more exposed.

You feel Sukuna’s breath, hot against your ear. The pad of his thumb brushes against the soft underside of your breast, lazy but intentional.

“Do you think she loved him?” he asks, the words low and velvet.

You swallow, breath shallow in your lungs.

“Or did she just want him to do it?”

Your tongue is parched, it feels like it may just stick if you try to answer. You stare down at the notebook like it might save you.

He leans in, tongue flicking out to taste the shell of your ear, and you flinch despite trying not to.

That earns a chuckle.

“I’ve killed a lot of women,” he states, as if it’s just background noise. “But you—you’re…different.”

He presses his palm flat against your chest, right over your heart pumps erratically.

“You probably think you’re the deer.” The words come tinged with a hint of dry amusement, like maybe he knows something about yourself that you don’t.

There’s a dull ache surfacing in your wrists against the cuffs. You’re starting to shiver, not entirely from the cold.

He lifts his hand from your chest only to gently tilt your face toward him. His eye gleams, but there’s no warmth in it, just something ravenous.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “By the time I’m done, you’ll know whatever’s the truth.”

Then, he pulls away, just like that.

The absence of his body is almost worse.

He picks up the notebook, flips to another page, and walks back to the chair as if nothing’s happened at all.

“This next one,” he decides, “The Orchard of Tongues. You’ll read that one tomorrow.”

And you’re left on the floor, breath uneven, wrists chafed and shaking—wondering what it means when you weren’t entirely horrified.

Just… confused.

divider cr: @/uzmacchiato