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#so i can keep icing my knee
camillahex · 4 months
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okay my knee is doing better, i think the swelling is down a little and it's getting easier and easier to walk more on that leg. i figured out using one crutch is the best way for me to get around; i can get a little weight bearing on my knee and walk on it without pain and it's less cumbersome than using both crutches. i did keep forgetting to take ibuprofen today so it's been a little more painful but this morning there was less pain and stiffness than yesterday morning - that could also be because i actually slept on my back with my knee propped up rather than on my side last night, so. things are looking up
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cinnamon-bunni · 25 days
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NOT okay right now im thinking abt pokemon leaving scars on their trainers + everyday, domestic problems.....
#this is abt my top gun au btw <3333 which will forever haunt me even though im less likely to write it everyday </3333#like.....getting thin scars from rowlet as a kid which have now all basically faded to time#(though the ones gained as a teen from dartrix can still be seen)#while in the other hand always having angry red scratches along both arms because hes always holding up rufflet who fights like no tomorrow#(believe me; its better to hold him up and take the damage than put him down and let rufflet pick a fight with someone)#OR like....getting electrical burns because elekid doesnt know how to control its discharge yet. and the scars that stay bc of that#(which tbh is an ash + pikachu thing i would love to see)#or how one accidental poison jab from toxicroak will leave you utterly sick for days#(like serious he should probably go to a hospital or smth) and toxi just has the biggest saddest puppy dog eyes in existence it feels so ba#(its fine this has happened before he'll be fine. probably)#bruisings on your shins bc pawmot punches your legs to grab your attention or to get smth it wants....#rooms always being like ten to twenty degrees colder (or even more) when he has his ice pokemon out for whatever reason...#the reverse of that with fire types..... ough...#having to BEG flygon not to fly rn bc it starts a sandstorm every fucking time and it does it anyway#(PLEASE i took you out of your ball to eat dinner why cant yiu behave this one time)#and then dragonair fixing it to be clear skies again.....the never ending cycle....#any trainer who have pokemon that start sandstorm needing a pair of safety goggles for when they battle#(maybe even bringing a spare just in case or--if theyre kind enough--for their opponent to wear so they can see too)#dont even get me started on mythical pokemon interacting with the tg characters.....#anyway tried to stay as vague as possible for the characters lolol#bergmite is just a lil guy who wants to be carried around like all the other small 'mons....i am so sorry sweetie you are over 200 pounds#you cannot be perched on your trainers shoulder like someone else's rufflet can#having ice burns bc froslass tried to freeze him.....#anyway. can you tell i love pokemon#sorry to anyone who sees this in the pokemon tag </333#delete later#i feel like im begging on my knees for someone to ask abt my au....but also if they did id die of embarrassment from answering it...#the pros and cons of having a dumb little au </3#sigh maybe one day i'll write a fic... (<-keeps saying it but has written nothing for it (yet))
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binch-i-might-be · 2 years
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😡
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fingertipsmp3 · 1 year
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Guess who fucked up her knee again??? And AT WORK no less
#oh god i hate this. everything about this. like i am crying and screaming and throwing up#GOD girl. honestly i think the worst part was it was almost the end of my shift. it was ~4:05 and i was sipping my water as i do#and i was about to go back to the counter and get back at it and serve the customers that were there. but i must have.. slipped? or twisted#something wrong??? i don’t know. all i know is my knee popped straight out of its socket and i SCREAMED and fell to the fucking ground#my coworker (we’ll call the sheriff) tried to grab me and failed. i just sat there with my head in my hands thinking PLEASE tell me this#didn’t fucking happen. it did though. VERY publicly#i don’t know who summoned them but the retail manager and my ultimate boss wheeled me out 🫠 and the marketing guy drove me to the hospital 🫠#which didn’t have an x-ray because shitty small town hospital 🫠🫠🫠 but we managed to rendezous with my stepdad there#at which point i was handed over to him. at which point i decided ‘fuck the hospital’ because literally they did NOTHING the first time i#dislocated my knee. they didn’t even x-ray it or prescribe me anything!!!! they just hurt me more; told me i’d overextended a ligament#and sent me home to convalesce. so i was like.. i mean i don’t feel like doing that again#i can tell my kneecap is back in the socket because girl i made it upstairs. like. yes it hurts like hell but i don’t think anything#is broken. i DO need to find out why this shit keeps happening to me and what i can do to stop it; but that’s not an a&e situation#that’s a gp or a physio or a fucking knee expert or something#so basically i’m going to stay in my bed with my brace and an ice pack and some entertainment and see what happens to me#i already know this is bad. like. as bad as the first time probably#the second and third times i was able to walk unassisted afterwards. i can’t walk unassisted. so.#basically tomorrow i’m going to call my boss and be like ‘i don’t think i can come in for the rest of the week on account of my knee#is approximately the size of texas and i have officially sprained it badly. but i’ll update you’#i hope i’m wrong. i hope i wake up tomorrow to just like a mild ache and feel STUPID#girl i can’t believe i’m saying this but i want to go to work. i want to work bank holiday sunday PLEEEEEAAAAAASE#i don’t want to limp around my house and cry. recuperating from an injury is the fucking worst WHY must i do it again#so. if you need me i’m going to be eating whatever the hell my mom has prepared (worst part of this is i can’t even cook for myself)#and reading… something. or i might play stardew honestly. or write!! i’ve been wanting to write for so long my god#so that’s my life currently 🙃🙃🙃#personal
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screampied · 5 months
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໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ F★CK ME LIKE U WANT ME ! ’﹒
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𐚁̸ sum. how the jjk men fuck—feat. gojo, geto, choso, nanami, toji.
𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, size kink, hair pulling, hitting it raw, face sitting, manhandling, impact play, degradation, squírting, faking it, spit, overstim, breeding, choking, mdni.
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☆ NANAMI KENTO fucks like he’ll never see you again.
he loathes his dreadfully long work hours more than anything, spending time away from you was like a death sentence to him—all he knew at the end of the day was that he missed you, he missed his wife. the moment he’s buried deep inside you, interlocking his fingers with yours—it feels like pure bliss. “hey,” he’d breathe, and for a moment you feel his weight press against you. he’s hovering, you’re in the classic missionary position. he feels warm, tenderly hot inside. you then instinctively wrap your legs around his waist with your arms slinging around his shoulders. “my love,” he kisses near your neck, starting up a frantic yet sensual pace again. “oh, how i missed you,” and he kisses near your chin. “mwah,” he concludes before you feel his knees spread a bit more wider for a more better base. “keep those eyes up here—i missed my girl,” and he says it again and again until it sounds like a mantra.
“i missed you more.” you’d coo out in a soft voice, the back of your heel gingerly running down his back. your knees open, nanami’s kneeling between your legs and you moan at his sloppy yet erotically risqué thrusts. his sweet rotating rhythm was the icing on the cake.
“oh, honey that’s just impossible,” he’d purr in a honeyed voice, a big hand pressing against your tummy. “tell me one thing though,” he hums, and the more you listen to his voice—the more melodic it sounds to you. “when i press . . here, do you feel me or do you feel our future baby?”
a candied moan runs out your mouth before you cling onto his hips that continue to delve in and out of you. he’s piercing straight into you at full speed, you merely get whiplash from it all.
he was so thick, so hefty…
the stretch made your mind speed run, he knew just the right spots to drive into. your gummy walls clamp down on him tightly, and he bites his lip at the way your loving cunt keeps him continuously hostage. every time, he’s forevermore entangled with nothing but your warmth. bodies on bodies, he liked being on top of you—the shared warmth of his skin brushing against yours, it sends you and him both various amounts of secretive inevitable shivers.
“future baby?” you inhale with a sheepish grin, his body, the way it strenuously rocks against you in such sync makes you fall more and more and love with him. “you want another baby, kento?”
“i want a whole family with you,” he murmurs in a quavering breath, leaning up close to you to nip a few sugared kisses near the corner of your neck. glacé, a perfect word to describe your taste—in nanami’s eyes, you were the sweetest treat anyone could get their hands upon. to him, you never failed to taste so appetizing, he loves more than anything to softly run his tongue near the very inner parts of your neck. he gives it a few concise sucks, meanwhile he’s still got you right where he wants you. his cock’s idly jackhammering in and out of you and you’re holding him close with the most harmonic sounds leaving the back of your throat. “you’re such a good mommy. whenever this tummy’s all round ‘n plump, it’s so pretty,” and he brings another kiss near your lips. “you’re pretty, my love.”
the very back of your heel continues to skim down his back. nanami’s muscles tense a bit from your touch and he steadies his pace for a bit.
“let’s m-make another baby then,” you stammer, his cologne scent making you a bit dizzy. he always smelled so good, his fragrant was so loud, forever reaching your nostrils the more he’s getting himself closer and closer. nanami loves the feeling of your touch, the way your hands grab onto him—pulling him closer so he can be more thorough with his deep deep strokes. he adores it.
more importantly, he adores you.
he’s panting heavily, a few strands of sweat beads race down the corners of his forehead before he kisses you once more. after a lengthy amorous kiss, he departs with a cute flushed expression and you moan. “you’re always such a good daddy too, kento.”
“. . . oh, i try to be the best for my gorgeous wife, after all.”
nanami’s words dripped with tenderness and warmth. as the bed creaks, creating a mere harmony within itself—he feels himself coming close, he knows it. blond strands of his begin to stick and glue to his forehead from the sweat that already coats his skin. “m-my love,” he suddenly says, and his grip on your hand tightens, still intertwining his fingers with yours. “i’m gonna give you so much—sooo much,” and he kisses the top of your forehead. “you’re gonna look even more stunning once you’re done being f-filled.”
“k—kento.” you’d whine, feeling his heavy base thwack against you consistently. you could tell by the sheer hits against your cunt, he was full of incoming ropes of seed.
his breathing becomes heavy and as his kegals flex and flex. a few long extended amounts of seconds pass before he finally finishes. his tip radiates with a feeling of hotness, and once he starts to flood the inside of your pussy with strings of his load—he lets off a cute strained moan himself. “f-fuck,” he’d huff out in a short breath, and even his swears were cute. nanami’s hooded eyes stare at you, and he leans against your chest, still plugging you up. feeling his cum trickle into you furthermore, nanami then slithers a hand down your tummy. “oh, m—my gorgeous girl. now we wait.”
☆ GOJO fucks like it’s the end of the world.
“yeah so angel, we’re gonna like die in five days.”
“what?”
“i read this article earlier—the world’s ending ‘n i also just so happened to stumble across this position i wanted to try on ya.”
“……”
with gojo, it’s always abruptly unforeseen moments such as these. he’s so unserious, if unserious was a person—it’d be satoru gojo.
yet, that’s all it took because it doesn’t take long before you’re literally being stretched out to the very fullest. with your legs thrown up in the air, just dangling and dangling over your shoulders like an earring, you’re whimpering your head off.
“o-oh my god, s—satoruuuu,” you’d babble out, and he’s got you in a full nelson. in the flesh, this position was practically known for having someone feel everything. each nerve, each pulse, you felt it all.
with a clouded mind and a stuffed cunt, you felt like you’re residing in cloud nine. your mouth was just stupidly hung open—you were sure a few strands of your spit were about to run past you’re lips and you whine. “you’re so d-deep, ‘s good, more.”
he’s laid back all lazy like, manspread with you all on top of him. gojo feels his thighs ache a bit from the rough repetitive slams your cunt makes against him before he groans huskily. “s-shittt,” and his arms lock around your neck. the sounds your cunt makes in retaliation were so lewd. soaked and oh so sopping wet.
you were dripping profusely, drenching his lap with nothing but your pool of sweet arousal. “clampin’ all on me, such a nasty g—girl.”
each time your pussy flings down against his lap over and over, it sends multiple shockwaves all throughout your body—so many shockwaves. you’re hot and bothered, he brings a hand down to grab near your right tit, giving it a soft firm squeeze.
“so cute. how deep do you feel me, angel? grab my hand ‘n show me. i wanna know where my girl feels the most stuffed.”
hesitatingly, you grab onto his wrist leading it towards the very lower part of your tummy—he hums a sweet tune, nearly having you in a headlock before you mewl out.
“feel you here, ‘toru,” and you feel your knees sink. he’s so deep, the stretch has your mouth salivating before you gasp. the pointed tip of his cock prods near your clit, causing you to shudder within his hold. “s—satoru, fuck, f-fuckkk.” you’d whine out, and your voice pitches just a bit more. your entire body feels warm, it’s rising temperature the more he’s got your cunt buried to the hilt with his thick cock. a few specks of white hair that coats near his base tickles and titillates against your ass each time you mercilessly plop back down. the air’s growing heavy and stuffy. you can barely even process that a familiar feeling was concurrently arising.
“upsie fuckin’ daisey,” he groans, lifting you up just a bit more. he was so strong, well considering he technically is considered to be the strongest. the strongest in bed for sure—gojo’s got his legs parted, and he’s just dumping such mean inches in and out of your cunt. you swallow him up within your walls every time. his stallion-like stamina was purely out of this world, not showing an ounce of fatigue. “so w-hot ‘n cozy inside f’me, gonna make me cum quick, angel.”
his voice was starting to get a bit trembly and whiny.
breathing patterns irregular and picking up—he was close. although, your release ends up coming straight away, so abruptly quick to where you don’t even get a moment to breathe. it literally takes your breath away—it’s so quick you have to blink thrice.
your body, its first initial response was to vigorously shake upon impact. you gush out, and you hear yourself squelch—surprised that that even came out of you before you slump way back against gojo’s bare chest. he pauses, holding your hips in place before with a sigh, he snickers a cocky, “hm, did you just . . squirt on me, baby?”
alas, there’s no reply—cute.
so much volume came out, it felt incredible. the pressure makes you whimper out louder while still being laid back against him with his twitching cock hidden inside your pussy. he stood still, and yet you still felt the pure stretch mend your walls in place. gojo’s hand slowly reaches down between your legs before feeling near your now sopping wet cunt.
“well shit, you messy girl. you really did squirt on me huh,” and he sounds more playful than usual. gojo finally puts your legs down and then he lifts you up once more, making you rest against him. pressing a wet kiss near the corner of your neck, he whispers, a lengthy finger gradually inserting between your folds. with a hushed whisper, he murmurs, “now that i know you’re a little super soaker, do that for me again, yeah? let’s play with that little squirt velocity of yours for just a bit.”
☆ TOJI fucks like he hates you.
when toji fucks, he fucks.
toji’s mean—an asshole, practically the human embodiment of the seven-lettered word. sure, he loves you. but at this particular moment, it’s like he hates your guts. ironic, considering he was actually deep in them, stirring them up in such a rough spiteful way.
“arch the fuck over more. even i can do better than that, girl,” he indignantly grouses, a hand grips a good handful of your hair whilst he’s just rudely pounding into you. he could arch better than you? truth be told, as you’re moaning your head off while being pounded full of his thick inches from behind, you giggle. toji spanks you, his palm kissing against your ass and you bite your lip from the after-effect of the sting. “giggle giggle ass girl. the fuck is so funny,” and he deepens his thrusts—a gasp lets out from the back of your throat once he smushes his weight against you.
prone bone, one of his favorites.
if toji really wanted to, he’d lean up so close and do his most treasured move—simply putting a foot near the back of your neck. it was so lewd, you’d moan whenever you feel the very back of his sock run against your neck. such a lazy way, a foot pressed against the back of your head while he’s just gifting you with mean thrusts while you’re on all fours. “uh huh. yeah, ‘s what the fuck i thought.”
“you’re the one saying you can a—arch better than me,” you whine, your voice was shaky but he could tell you were holding back laughter. you were playing with fire, especially at a lewd moment like this. he’s deep inside, the tip of his angry cock mashing against each and every corner of your cunt before you’re about to burst. “if you can arch better than me then prove i—”
“. . . listen here bitch,” toji grumbles, feeling his eye twitch.
he tugs just a bit harder on your hair. your back arch was simply immaculate. sitting upright, your palms sat against the sheets of the bed, bawling them up before you felt his free hand grip your waist steadfastly. toji leans right up to your ear before muttering in a low raspy voice. “you know, babygirl. sure do got a lot of talk for someone who struggles to take me every damn time.”
he’s got you there, you swallow before feeling a brief sharp pivot of his hips.
everything was just downright filthy. his strokes had you gasping for air practically—meticulously, he makes sure to hit every spot. his aim was thorough and precise, making sure to hit everywhere like the insides of your cunt was his target. your pussy incessantly clenches every few seconds and it makes him groan. the necklace chain that wraps around his neck tickles your back, the way it runs against your skin makes you metaphorically fold. the material of it skims down your tense muscles and you think you’re so close you could taste your sweet release on the very tips of your tastebuds.
“c—cum, ‘m gonna cum, toji.” you suddenly whimper, feeling the brusque twitch of your right thigh. with your teeth shattering, he continues to maintain a firm grip—this time, his hand placement lowers towards your neck. it gives him a good amount of leverage before he tilts his hips forward. once he does that, he thrashes his angry plump cockhead against your folds and the whine you choke out was immaculate. “f-fuck, cumming.”
toji pauses—something wasn’t right, he knew your body and how it responded to him.
the silence was straight-up deadly. your heart races while he’s still inside, you feel him twitch whilst he’s still buried deep into you and it feels so raw. “oh, girl i know the fuck you didn’t,” he grits, and he pulls out almost immediately. literally the definition of a sassy man—you could hear the bitter annoyance lingering on his tone before he flips you over, making you stare right into his dark viridescent colored eyes. “faking orgasms today yeah? you’re on a roll today.”
“i— i didn’t fake it.” you pout, not fond of the way you were suddenly empty from him pulling straight out. you wanted to be full, but you also wanted to act like a bit of a brat. “it was real.”
“sure,” he rasps, and he suddenly gets up—you’re confused, actually quite close to your finish despite you faking it the first initial time and he casually just reaches for the remote, switching the tv on. “while ya work on making y’erself finish, i’m gonna catch up on shameless.”
“are you serious?” you pant, and he very much is. he’s getting all comfy underneath the silk sheets, lazily throwing his feet up before the dim ‘who’s watching’ prompt for netflix appears. he scrolls on his assigned name which was displayed of ‘old dirty bastard with a few racks.’
“dead serious. heh, now shut up, princess. fiona ‘n lip are speaking.”
☆ CHOSO fucks like it’s the last time.
it’s an ongoing thing for him.
he loves you more than life itself—so for him to have you straddling him, taking in every inch of your gorgeous figure, he had to give you at least one more orgasm. it was the least he could do.
“i love you.” he says, and he repeats it again and again.
once choso says those words—he never hesitates, not even once. with the way your hips rotate, he’s already about to lose all sorts of composure. big rough hands of his grip and attach near your waist to help slam you up and down his pulsating cock. “i— i love you. i love the way you always m-make me feel.”
“i love you too,” you’d say in a short breath, a snatching wind nearly takes your breath away as you feel yourself clench and tighten against him. “babyyy,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. “you can touch me more, it’s okay.”
his lip quivers. with a needy look in his eyes, he cutely releases a surprised sigh of relief. “o-oh, thank you. i was gonna ask but i didn’t know if you’d want me to.”
“choso, you’re literally inside of me and you’re shy to ask to touch me?” you tease, sneaking a kiss near the corner of his lips.
a tint of sheer embarrassment rises to his face before he sheepishly smiles, softly running his fingertips against your hips. “oh yeah. r-right,” and you start to rotate your hips even further. your impactful rhythm has him weak, the grinding that you’re doing also has him in an utter chokehold. choso’s speechless—he’s more of a whiner than you, he tries to even suppress his moans by biting his lip but it’s to no use. you’re leaning forward, sliding your hands down his chiseled chest before he whimpers. “you’re so sexy when you touch me,” and then he cutely gasps. “ah, sexy—i mean, breathtaking.”
“you’re adorable,” you titter, and he feels the warmth of your own chest pressing all up against him. he really was though, he’s very gentle with his touch—the way his fingers wander, choso’s heart races a mile a minute. as he’s still massaging your gummy walls with the lengthy size of his cock, he sighs himself. “close, baby?”
he nods, literally melting from your touch.
choso feels abnormally warm—he only wants more of you, he can’t help but inch his face towards you before bringing you into an idyllically deep kiss. it’s passionate, a few poking out strands that ran down his face pricks against your skin and you moan right into his mouth. as you’re rocking into him at such a pace, he touches more. you do the same, a finger trailing down his v-line, his pecs, everywhere. further and further.
“. . . you touching me—” he breaks away, glossy lips starting to stain with his gleaming saliva. he looks so pretty, his dark eyelids start to lower and he whimpers once his cock sits still. you’re practically doing all the work like this, grinding back and forth while he lies back. “you touchin’ me, ‘s gonna make me cum, princess. i— i feel so hot when you touch me.”
“you’re always hot when i do anything,” you tease, sneaking another kiss near the edge of his mouth. choso’s breathing heavier than usual before he feels himself start to pulse—his dick twitches inside and you hear him gasp once he squeezes your hips forward. he’s about to fill you up, he even gives you a glossy eyed stare, pursing his lips as if he’s merely asking permission and with a stroke of a thumb near his lips, you murmur. “it’s okay, give it to me, baby. fill me up.”
he whines, mentally preparing himself before choso feels his thighs tighten. your cunt’s gripping down against him so tight, his jaw clenches. stingy, you had him in an entire hold.
“f— fuckkk, ‘s so much coming. you’re gonna milk me like you always do, princess,” and with his eyes shut, he’s hugging your body against him solidly before seconds later, he cums. it comes out in spurts— such sweltering stringy ropes, he’s taken aback and his moans against your ear only makes you more aroused. you could listen to choso whine into your ear all day, he’s shaking underneath you and he obviously needs a moment. his black hair was all ruffled and messy before he’s still feeling himself emit filthy amounts of seed into your cunt. “s—so good,” he groans, and for a second, his voice gets a bit raspy. “baby,” he swallows, feeling himself burn up—you straddling him like this, frail arms wrap around his shoulders whilst giving him the most sly stare. he felt like he was gonna explode, you were even more warm and toasty inside now that he’s stuffed you full. “marry me,” he suddenly says. “marry me, princess.”
“i’m already your wife, silly,” you tease, he’s still pumping you full of his never-ending amounts of hot cum. you kiss near the twitching right side of his lip before purring. “too worn out to remember?”
he moans, giving your ass a needy squeeze before he throws his head back. “let’s marry again, and again, and again then. s—so i can fill you up like this all the time. i— i want you, i love you,” and then he reaches between your thighs to feel against your cunt, skimming his fingertips against his own strings of cum that painted the inner entrance of your pussy. “i love her just as much,” and then he gasps. “oh … baby, you didn’t even finish.”
☆ GETO fucks like he hasn’t eaten all day.
“less talking, more sitting on my face,” is all he says with the most lust-driven gaze.
a good way for geto to rewind from a long day is to simply be between your plush thighs. it’s his favorite pastime, hell—probably his only pastime.
you’re barely hovering over his mouth by this point—sheeny glossy lips ready to slurp you dry before he hums, a few slender fingers of yours brushing against your hips before you speak, “only if you let me pull on your hair again.”
“ah, you know you can always do that. i keep it extra long just for you, baby.”
your heart swoons—you slowly sit down, positioning your pussy against his mouth, making sure he has a bit of room to breathe before geto gradually creates one single lick against your folds. sopping, you were already soaked and his moist tongue only made matters ten times worse.
“f-fuck,” you’d moan, keeping all eyes on his the entire time. irises of yours dilate immediately the moment you watch geto start to kiss all near the crevices of your shaky legs—only to then suck his lips against your swollen needy clit. he grunts, already feeling a tent creep up in his sweats. your hips move on its own, starting to slowly grind against his face.
back and forth, back and forth…
it was so hypnotic.
you were so hypnotic.
“mhm,” he grunts hoarsely, cupping his mouth near the very top part of your slit — he’s savoring your sweetened taste entirely, lapping the flat of his tongue everywhere. your entrance dampens his chin already and he sneers, licking near the corners of his mouth. such a sloppy man, his tongue then swiftly runs against your hood before it starts to flick and jerk at a much more rapid speed. “move those—hips, ride my fuckin’ face ‘n pull on my hair, pretty girl.”
he’s eating you out so good you’re already feeling a sudden rush shoot through you. you follow what he says exactly, creating a decent rhythm with your hips—he’s so pretty like this too, black lashes half open or just about closed.
geto was already pussy-drunk, that much was to tell. “o-okay, suguuu,” you’d whimper, and you grabbed an ample amount of his tangled strands, giving him a brief hard yank. he always gets hard once you tug on his hair, his head briefly forwards further into your cunt and he chuckles—warm breath fanning against your clit. “right there, sugu. s-spit on it.”
“anything for the princess,” he says between sharp breaths. you’re slowly rocking your hips against his face—feeling the soft tip of his nose brush up and down repeatedly against your dripping entrance before he departs just to spit right on your pussy. he brings a hand to smear it all between your folds, all the while a tongue slides against his own lips and oh he’s hungry. hungry for you. “damn. she just gets more sloppier every fuckin’ time. should be a crime to be this soaked, baby.”
and you whimper, watching with glossy eyes as he laps up his saliva—coating your slick entrance with a plethora of chaste kisses shortly afterward.
it's lustrous, so shiny.
geto makes sure to study your body if its entirety. the way your breathing dramatically picks up and the harder and sloppier your thrusts against his mouth becomes. you’re coming close and he’s much well aware, “yeah,” he utters, and it’s in the mere form of a question. “already, hm? you gonna make a mess on me so i can clean you right back up?”
“y— yes,” you moan, the tugging on his hair only getting rougher. pant after pant escapes through your lips before he starts to playfully nibble right on your clit. a finger of his slowly inserts into you and you clench around it, feeling a few steady pulses before that’s right when you gasp. ultimately, you end up finishing after a few minutes—so much so, that your eyes were all hazy, rolling to the very backs of your are and you whimper loudly, still grinding against his face.
“. . . ooooh,” he hums, a right hand of his that tucks behind you, giving your ass a concise squeeze. once he sits back up again, geto peers into you with a sly amused gaze before giving your cunt one more kiss. “now give me one more, ‘m still not satisfied with my meal, sweetheart.”
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lokissweater · 1 month
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i know your name ✭
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{gojo satoru x f!reader}
summary: gojo satoru was practically everyone’s god as his shiny charming reputation has followed him ever since high school and through college— his band he had with his best friend suguru packing the local college pub every night just to see him sing and play the bass. unbeknownst to you, satoru has been keeping an eye on you, and when you officially meet him right before one of his shows, satoru just about falls to his knees over you.
warnings: MDNI. college au, CAR SMUT be patient!!, fingering, squirting, a bit of oral hehe, cursing, angst, FLUFFF, FILTHY DIRTY TALK, a sprinkle of degradation, tinyyy mentions of alcohol and drinking, gojo is obsessed with reader, afab!reader, jealousy.
word count: 8.8k
authors note: oh my goodness this one took me a FAT MINUTE but it’s SO SO CUTE and i hope you all think so too!! thank you thank you for all of your notes on my works!! MWAHH.
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“please come with me to the alley, i don’t think i can handle one moron and an even bigger moron by myself.”
shoko shimmied her jacket onto her shoulders, a disgruntled and pleading look on her face as she turned to face you. “they’re only playing a few songs, and you don’t have to drink!”
you laughed softly. “who’s they?”
“suguru and satoru, they’re playing at the alley.”
“gojo satoru?”
the cogs in your brain spun as you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, a bit apprehensive. the alley was the place everyone went to at your college to get drunk and laid, and it also happened to be the place where the two boys played their band almost every night— satoru mainly having connections with the owner of the bar to even allow a bunch of college kids to trash the place to begin with.
you didn’t necessarily know satoru, but in your years of observing him back in high school, you knew he was viewed by anyone and everyone as a god, his reputation shiny and impressive as he had the greatest charisma and charm you had ever seen.
you remember back to when basically every other day he was getting confessed to in the halls or in class— or after school… or literally anywhere now that you thought about it.
but satoru has never been prideful or rude, even though it was something that was supposed to be written for him being the most popular guy— but he just simply didn’t follow it.
satoru was kind. really kind. and even though he got millions of confessions per year, he treated each rejection with gentleness and respect, never turning a cold eye to anyone as he apologized profusely and tried to help them feel better.
he always volunteered to do your class banners and plan your school’s activities, festivals, and field trips so nobody else had the burden of missing out on the fun. he always helped out the gardener after school and watered the plants with them (soon after practically taking over the entire shift for free and telling them to relax on a bench), tutored his friends and peers when they asked him for help, and made anyone that felt left out feel included.
that’s why he was so popular. gojo satoru was a ray of sunshine with bright blue eyes and white ruffly hair, with a gorgeous face that you never saw without a smile— loud and obnoxious and a little clumsy, but kind.
“i still don’t know why they started a band.. but they get pretty big tips every night so i guess that’s why,” shoko muttered, sipping the last of her iced tea as she got up from her seat— the cafe you were both sitting in quiet and warm as you copied her actions and stood. “or could be because satoru likes the attention.”
you weren’t close with suguru or satoru like shoko was, and you’ve never even properly met them either, but you always listened to her whenever she’d complain and understood her completely nonetheless.
you laughed at her last comment and smiled. “i’ll go… but i can only stay for two songs! i have class at seven am tomorrow.”
she smiled wide and threw her arms around you, “thank you thank you thank you!”
you’ve never actually been to the alley before, only having heard about it through the grapevine and from your other classmates that went, parties and concerts and drinking never really on the schedule for you. you honestly loved parties and concerts, and you loved the idea of hanging out with people and doing whatever your hearts desired until the sun came up.
but ever since you started college, your high school group kind of disappeared, and now you only really have one true best friend that you preferred over anything else, that being shoko. your nights are usually always calm and filled with studying or self care, your little life quiet and independent as you navigated through the days on your own.
and although you were a bit lonely at times, yearning for another soul to share your nights with, you learned to enjoy your own company.
the alley was a couple of blocks down from the cafe you and shoko were originally at, your ears already picking up on the vibrations of guitars and drums from outside as she approached the bouncer at the front, not even being able to get a word in before the big man was already telling her no.
“no?!” shoko dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. “i was literally here last week, i’m friends with the band that’s playing.”
“sorry we’re at max capacity—”
“it’s okay, they both can come in. they’re on stage with us.”
your eyes snapped to the door and you recognized geto suguru, his long jet black hair cascading down to his shoulders as he sported an all black outfit— politely smiling at the bouncer.
the man moved to the side and ushered us in, shoko’s shoulders dropping in relief as you both walked in and over to a table by the stage. “thank you suguru.”
he nodded. “if i don’t, satoru will throw another fit again and say you don’t love him if you don’t show up.”
shoko rolled her eyes and looked at you, her lips pressed into a thin line. “you see what i mean?”
“shoko!” a loud, booming and enthusiastic voice rang through the pub as you turned, spotting none other than satoru with his long arms open, more or less throwing himself on her. “you came!”
“you threatened me—”
“i did no such thing!” he sprung back. “are you not here out of the goodness of your heart? to support your two best boys living their dreams?”
“no.”
“shokooo!” he whined and you giggled, which caused him to snap his head in your direction, finally noticing your presence.
her.
“oh! hello,” he smiled kindly to you and extended his hand. “i’m satoru, and you are?”
“y/n!” you grinned sweetly and politely to him, taking his cold hand in yours and shaking it.
“are you a friend of shoko’s?”
you nodded.
he cocked his head to the side, “how come i’ve never seen you around?”
“oh i don’t go out too often, that’s probably why,” you laughed lightly, a little embarrassed by your answer.
he beamed anyways, his smile so big and brilliant that you were starting to see for yourself exactly why everyone loved him so much, not that you didn’t already know the reason behind it in the first place.
“me neither!”
satoru was still holding your hand.
“yes you do!” shoko scoffed. “you’re barely ever at your apartment and i always have to be your designated driver—”
he gawked, glaring at her. “that’s not true! i was home yesterday!”
“because you were hungover.” suguru mumbled.
you laughed again, and satoru turned back to face you, a grin on his face.
just then, a rather large group of guys started making their way towards your area, all beckoning and calling for satoru while holding up several shot glasses, his head snapping towards their direction and flashing a dazzling smile.
“satoru come!”
“satoru take some with us!”
he gently let go of your hand and raised his, waving high as he readjusted his black round sunglasses up the bridge of his nose, “give me a second! i’ll be over!”
satoru turned back to you, resuming the conversation.
“sorry, she lies. she likes to lie. i’m glad i didn’t go to high school with her.”
“yes we did— i’m going over to your followers and stealing a shot, goodbye.” shoko grumbled, throwing her purse on the table and walking away, dragging suguru along with her.
“we actually um..” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “we went to high school together.”
“oh i know.”
your eyebrows pinched together.
he knows?
“you used to water the garden on days i couldn’t afterschool, right?”
your eyes widened a little.
“oh! and you used to fix the class banners whenever i didn’t notice my fuck up, which was always.” he patted the top of your head and laughed, “thank you for that by the way.”
“you knew?” you murmured, a rosy tint to your cheeks.
“duh,” his eyes softened. “i’m sorry i never thanked you properly then.”
you shook your head dumbly, a little spaced out as you took in what he said. “no it’s okay.”
your eyes then fell to the instruments and band set up behind him, suddenly remembering that he was performing tonight.
“so what do you guys play?” you spoke up gently, hands wringing behind your back. “do you play original songs? or covers?”
“covers! 80’s covers.” he explained excitedly. “suguru and i switch off singing. i play the bass and he plays the guitar, and we have a couple of extra friends in the back playing the drums and keyboard.”
your eyes sparkled as you watched the stage set up process, black chords scattered everywhere on the ground in disarray as several individuals on the platform tuned their instruments or plucked out a few notes.
“80’s?” you perked up. “what kind of 80’s?”
“what kind?”
“yeah! morissey? the cure? new order—”
satoru was awestruck, mouth slightly parted. “you know who they are?”
you quickly nodded, a cute smile on your face.
“you like the cure?” he asked quietly.
“i love the cure.”
satoru practically had hearts in his eyes as he beamed down at you with a stupid face, his heart a little frazzled with a familiar feeling sparkling in his chest.
“satoru!”
he snapped out of his trance and spun around, suguru on stage beckoning him over. “sorry, we have to start.”
“okay!” he walked backwards as he quickly faced you again and smiled, a little frantic. “i’ll talk to you after we play! i’m gonna quiz you on it so pay attention!”
you laughed, your hand covering your mouth a bit as you nodded. “is it counting towards my grade? or is it extra credit?”
“extra credit if you go on a date with me after the show!”
you stopped.
“she can’t! moron,” shoko suddenly appeared beside you and threw an arm around your shoulder. “she’s only staying for two songs!”
gojo’s jaw dropped slack, his shoulders slumping as he got up on stage, arms out. “two?!”
you grimaced, an apologetic look on your face and kind of feeling like a lame grandma as you nodded, “i have class at seven am tomorrow!”
before he could even respond, satoru got pulled by tech crew to test out his microphone, and you and shoko gradually settled yourselves on the high bar stool chairs at your table.
“odd,” she muttered with a funny look on her face.
“hm? what is?” your eyes switched to hers.
“satoru’s never asked a girl out before.”
your eyes bulged open. “never?”
“never.” shoko sipped a little at her beer and gave you a comforting smile. “i’ve always seen girls try it with him and ask him out or simply just follow him around like a lost dog, but he’s never gone after anyone.”
you watched a little smirk spread across her face, and your hands grew a tiny bit sweaty as you swallowed thickly.
“if you’re interested in him, there’s a line. but i think you have a head start.”
the music started— suguru introducing himself, satoru, and the band calm and pleasantly before they began playing their first song. it was loud and rhythmic, vibrations murmuring through the floor as your glass of water shook on the table with every note.
they weren’t bad at all— they were actually pretty good, really good, and you found yourself not really wanting to admit it since it seemed like satoru was good at a million different things regardless of category or genre.
“do they have a name for their band?!” you yelled over the music, leaning your frame a little closer to her without taking your eyes off of the stage.
shoko snorted, “the strongest monkeys.”
you threw your head back and laughed loudly, looking at her incredulously. “really?!”
as he performed on stage, satoru noticed you laugh and he smiled against the microphone, a vision he connected back to high school, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, he was internally a little unsteady as your pretty eyes watched him play and sing— feeling embarrassed whenever he would trip over a chord clumsily like he seemed to do at every freaking show, but feeling better seeing as it made you giggle.
by the end of their second song, you showed shoko the time on your phone and tried to stand as discretely as possible in attempts at not disturbing anyone around you, grabbing your purse from the arm of your chair and swinging it over your shoulder.
but when you looked up, satoru was already looking at you as suguru spoke through the microphone, his eyes wide and pleading as he held up his index finger.
“one more song!” he mouthed. “please.”
you gnawed at your bottom lip anxiously, your eyes darting around the pub and back to the time on your phone before they landed again on satoru.
“stay.” he mouthed again.
and for reasons you couldn’t explain, your body pulled you back down on the stool and you sat— shoko quirking an eyebrow at you in confusion.
satoru’s face broke out into the brightest smile, a smile equivalent to the blinding rays of the sun as he pushed up his round sunglasses and gave you a cute thumbs up.
“thank you.”
and your heart stuttered.
you eventually decided to stay for the rest of the show, seeing as it was already late as fuck anyways— and they played few more songs then, a mix of well known 80’s songs as well as a few underrated ones, your head nodding gently to the beat and swaying your little shoulders. in the midst of it, satoru had been watching and glancing in your direction so many times throughout the show, that he subconsciously started mimicking your little shoulder sway on stage as he performed.
college girls screamed practically every five minutes when the boys did anything, some even going as far as running up the platform and reaching up for satoru’s hands or ankles as he played, him smiling bright at each and every one of them with shoko shaking her head in disappointment— her forehead falling to the palm of her hand as you laughed.
ironically by the end of it, the band closed with the cure, and as the crowd dispersed and several took their leave from the alley— some shouting words of praise at the boys, you and shoko stood and walked over to the stage. satoru in a heartbeat noticed you coming over and hooked his mic quickly back on the mic stand, tossing the strap of his bass over his shoulders and setting it down before hopping off stage.
“did you like it?” he panted hopefully, trying to catch his breath as his forehead glistened with sweat, his hands on his hips.
you smiled gently. “i did! good job, you both played really great songs.”
suguru gave you a small smile in gratitude from the platform as he unplugged and untangled a few chords— and satoru beamed, nodding. “i’m glad! okay, here comes your quiz!”
“oh god.”
“we played the cure at the end…” satoru dragged out.
“mhm…”
“what song?” he tilted his head to the side, and your cheeks went pink as you grinned.
“pictures of you,” you replied softly. “it’s my favorite one.”
satoru’s forehead fell to rest against your shoulder, and your eyes widened in surprise.
“i would expect nothing less from you, y/n.”
you hummed out a laugh, and his heart did a tiny somersault at the sound before he picked his head back up and looked at you softly.
“thank you for staying.”
shoko bounded over to you then and looped her arm through yours. “ready to go?”
you nodded quickly before smiling sweetly at satoru. “i’ll see you around! thank you for—”
“wait!” he shot his arms out frantically with wide eyes. “what about our date?”
you froze. “our date?”
“unless you want the quiz to count towards your grade…” he mumbled lowly, eyes darting on everything and everywhere except you with pinky cheeks.
“i didn’t think you were being serious about that..” you spoke gently.
his eyebrows furrowed. “why not?”
“because you’re gojo satoru,” shoko butt in.
you quickly flicked her forehead— your lips pressed into a thin line, earning a little laugh from satoru as you turned your head to look at him again.
“i have an early class tomorrow… ill see you around though, okay?”
without thinking, satoru reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you to face him.
“let me take you to class.”
shoko and suguru exchanged a look and your lips parted, eyebrows pinching together.
“what?”
“i’ll take you to class in the morning,” he looked desperate. “and i won’t count the quiz towards your grade.”
you were skeptical, very skeptical, unsure of what satoru wanted from you in this situation. you had just met him, properly at least, and though you knew he was a good person, you weren’t sure if that was still relevant in the field of picking up girls.
you looked to shoko, who shrugged, and your eyes landed back to satoru’s pleading one’s, your entire body and soul hesitating.
“i—” you gnawed at your bottom lip, a nervous habit as you took in the way he looked like a sad little puppy the longer you took to respond, your heart not having the ability to ever say no to anyone, ever. not even him.
“okay.”
his shoulders relaxed, and he let out a puff of relieved air as he gave you the biggest smile, nodding hopefully.
“okay! h—here-” he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. “if i could— if i could have your number? and i’ll text you when im on my way and stuff…”
you shakily took satoru’s phone, the screen already opened up to the ‘add contact’ feature as you typed in your number before passing it back to him.
“thank you!” he beamed. “i’ll see you tomorrow then?”
he was so excited, and you really didn’t know why, but you couldn’t help but give him a sweet smile of yours in return, nodding.
“see you.”
when you finally arrived home that night, it didn’t take satoru even ten minutes after that to text you.
(unknown): i have good news for you miss y/n
you stared at your phone, your heart jumping a bit as you typed back a response.
(you): and i have bad news for you satoru
(satoru): WHAT
(satoru): ok wait me first
(satoru): congrats you passed my class!! that quiz bumped up your grade from 0% to 100% ur so smart
(satoru): but if your bad news is you rejecting me i’m FAILING you
(you): HAHAHAHA
(you): silly silly
(you): my bad news was that i always have banana milk on my way to school in the mornings and unfortunately i don’t have any extra for you :(
(you): i ran out ;(
within the two minutes that it took for you to respond with your declared bad news, satoru was absolutely shitting it, wholeheartedly believing you were going to reject him and leave him to dramatically rot away all alone.
he replied quickly, a goofy smile on his face.
(satoru): that’s literally the only reason why i asked you out :(
(you): and how do you know i have banana milk in the mornings before school?
(satoru): OH
(satoru): SO ABOUT TOMORROW
you giggled, wiping the last of your makeup off and turning off your vanity light before jumping into bed, snuggling into your covers as the cool air softly touched your face from your open window.
(you): *address*
(you): pick me up at 6:30 please, if that’s okay :)
(satoru): i’ll pick you up at six miss y/n
(you): SIX WHY
(satoru): for a breakfast date silly!! okay goodnight xoxo
you hadn’t even realized the huge stupid smile on your face until your rosy cheeks started to ache.
(you): HAHAHA
(you): goodnight <3
a heart?!
satoru stuffed his face into his pillow, feeling like little love birdies were flying around his head and pecking at his hair.
the following morning, you ran your fingers through your hair and probably fixed your outfit a million trillion times before you were satisfied, a huge lump in your throat as you gnawed so much at your bottom lip that it drew blood.
you were nervous, but why? you didn’t know why. maybe because it was gojo satoru picking you up. maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t had a guy try to hit on you in what felt like a decade, the last time really being the last day of high school when you randomly found a note in your locker, the words literally illegible.
maybe it was the fact that satoru was the most handsome man you have ever seen.
but so was he to everybody else.
(satoru): i’m outside! :]
you wiped your clammy hands on your legs and stood, hiking your school bag further up your shoulder before walking down the stairs and out the door, seeing satoru seated in his car in your driveway.
you timidly opened the door to the passenger side and stepped in.
“hi!” he greeted cheerfully and proceeded to place his hand on the back of your headrest as he backed out, looking through his rear view mirror.
“hi!” you said gently. “you’re not tired?”
“nuh uh,” he smiled at you. “i had three energy drinks before i got you.”
your head instantly whipped in his direction. “satoru— three?!”
he giggled at your reaction, the sides of his blue eyes crinkling as he patted your head. “don’t worry silly, i’ve had maybe five at a time before—”
“five?!”
you slumped against the passenger seat and closed your eyes. “satoru, you’re gonna develop heart problems if you keep this up.”
“nah,” he reached into the backseat, his eyes still on the road. “i’m the strongest.”
and you snorted then, watching him retrieve two small bottles of juice from the back without taking his eyes off of the road.
“i got us orange juice— wait do you like orange juice? oh fuck maybe—”
you giggled and waved him off, taking both bottles from his hands. “it’s okay! i do like orange juice, thank you.” you settled them on your lap neatly. “i’ll hold them while you drive.”
“aww thanks sweets,” he murmured affectionately, and your face instantly went warm to the touch.
“i also got us breakfast bagels so we can sit and people watch before your class—” his eyes snapped to yours. “if— if that’s okay.”
your heart skipped a beat at his planning, nodding as you reached into your school bag and pulled out a little yellow carton, holding it out for him as he drove.
satoru tore his gaze away from the road momentarily and looked, his eyebrows furrowing.
“your daily morning banana milk?”
you smiled softly, nudging it towards him. “for you.”
he physically melted as he looked at your sweet sweet face and back towards the road.
“you’re giving up your banana milk— for me?”
you tore off the straw from the back of the milk box, sticking it through the little opening and offering it to him again.
“yup yup.”
he bit his lower lip as he gratefully took the milk box from you, giddy and flustered on the inside as he took tiny sips.
“an absolute delicacy, thank you miss y/n.”
before you even realized it, satoru was already pulling in to the campus parking lot, shifting his gear into park and turning off the ignition before opening his door.
“don’t move!” he sputtered suddenly. “don’t touch that door hold on—”
he slammed his door shut and you watched quizzically as he ran across the front of the car and opened the door for you, flashing an award winning smile that could shatter the earth if he wanted to.
you still couldn’t piece together why he was doing so much for you or why he was interested in the first place, but as you watched him set up the breakfast bagels cutely as you both sat on the bench, him carefully handing you yours along with your orange juice, you didn’t really have the heart to ask him why.
maybe it was the more selfish side of you, the one that always longed to share little moments like this with another being, the one that always spent her days alone watching movies or doing little crafts in her room to keep the time going, a bittersweet feeling in your chest every time you saw your classmates or casual friends post about their parties or outings.
you hadn’t realized that you didn’t respond to whatever satoru had said, and you snapped out of it.
“fuck— i’m sorry satoru, i spaced out.” you laughed softly. “what were you saying?”
he stared at you, his eyes examining your face. “what’s wrong?”
“huh?”
“what were you thinking about?”
“it was— it was nothing,” you took a sip of your orange juice. “i forgot.”
satoru shoved his face close to yours, your breath hitching and your cheeks growing pink as you watched his eyes scan every part of you, his expression concerned.
“something’s bothering you,” he hummed. “am i being too forward? i’m— i’m sorry sometimes i don’t even realize—“
“no!” you shot your arms out frantically and placed them on his shoulders, “no, it’s not that, you’re okay satoru. everything you’ve done has been really nice, so thank you.”
your voice was so sweet as you spoke to him, and even though it made him feel better to some degree, he still couldn’t shake the empty and sad look he saw on your face when you were spaced out.
he slowly retreated back and hesitantly nodded as you placed your hands back on your lap, your fingers then tearing a piece from your breakfast bagel and plopping it into your mouth.
“did you ever find…” he spoke in between bites. “a note in your locker the last day of high school?”
your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “how do you know about that?”
he swallowed, a sheepish look on his face. “that was me. i put that note in.”
your eyes widened as your body completely froze over, putting your bagel down— the wrapper crinkling underneath as you did so.
“really?”
satoru nodded, his flushed cheeks prominent on his pale skin as he suddenly found his bagel super interesting to look at.
“what did it say?”
he looked at you baffled. “what did it say? what do you mean?”
you giggled then, your hand covering your mouth as you leaned forward a little bit. “i could— i could barely read it. the handwriting-“
“oh my fucking god!” satoru threw his arms up in despair. “that explains so much. i was so sad i straight up thought you hated me.”
you stopped. “what do you mean?”
“i wrote my name and how i thought you were really pretty, and then i wrote my number at the bottom.” he dropped his shaking head in his hands, laughing. “but i wrote it really fast because i saw you coming so i just stuffed it in there.”
he slumped over his legs on the bench, his elbows on his knees as he moaned.
“you think i’m pretty?” you asked softly.
he turned his head to the side as he was hunched over, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he smiled gently. “very.”
gojo satoru thought you were pretty.
you smiled cutely at him, reaching out and pushing his sunglasses back up his eyes, yours warm and endearing. “silly.”
you leaned back on the bench and giggled. “to be fair satoru, even if i was able to read your note, i probably would’ve thought it was a prank.”
“a prank? why?” his shoulders deflated, an unamused look on his face. “because i’m ‘gojo satoru’ like shoko said—”
“no,” you pushed. “because you’re a good person. you always go above and beyond for others and i’ve seen that as long as i’ve known you.”
you crossed a leg over the other and smiled softly. “and because of that i’m really not sure why you like me satoru, i haven’t really done anything special but—”
“what you just said is a crime. the way you think about me is the way i think about you.” he cut in, eyes serious. “you think you don’t do anything special? i literally watched you all through high school bend over backwards for people, for me, like i did,“ he sighed through his nose. “but your intentions were genuine and pure, mine were not.”
he finished the last of his bagel and crumpled up the wrapper into a ball, tossing it in the trash can next to him as he leaned back.
satoru swallowed. “i feel like if i don’t do the things that i do for people, ill end up disappointing everyone i know. i feel like everyone’s built this image of me that i don’t even know where the fuck it came from—” he shook his head. “but i don’t want to tarnish that. i don’t want to let people down. so i just let them ask me for stuff. i don’t even like going out that much either, believe it or not. i just go when they call.”
he crossed his arms. “whenever people do do something in return for me, it’s like i’m forever in their debt and they’re always expecting something from me back.”
your sad eyes softened, the confession in front of you a reaction from him you realized must’ve been buried deep deep down his chest— without any prior chance of resurfacing until this very moment.
you never thought about his situation this way. you would’ve never thought that satoru could’ve felt like this about his own reputation, something you guiltily believed was a thing he was absolutely floored over.
“you never expected anything back from me though,” he murmured. “you fixed my fucked up banners and switched around reservations when i absentmindedly chose the wrong thing for our school field trips, and you never said a word about it to me or anyone, and you didn’t expect anything back.”
he finally turned his bright blue eyes in your direction, and looked at you so deeply, so sincerely, that your mind went completely blank.
“that’s why i like you,” satoru bashfully scratched his cheek. “you do special things everyday and— and i was moved.”
there was a moment of silence, satoru staring at the ground as you stared at him, a delicate and insecure side of him unfolding before you that you don’t think anyone has ever seen, and you intended to keep it that way— wanting this special moment selfishly just for you.
you slowly leaned forward then as you made him look at you.
“its natural for you to be upset and think indifferently about people walking all over you, toru. it doesn’t mean you’re not genuine or pure.”
raising your arm, you poked his pink cheek gently and gave him a little comforting smile. “it actually only further solidifies to me how much of a good person you are. because even though people take advantage of your kindness, you help them with what they need regardless, and do way more.”
his eyes softened.
“at the end of the day, even though it makes you a little mad, you want to help people, because if you didn’t, you simply wouldn’t do it.”
you nudged his shoulder playfully with yours, “but not anymore, okay? from now on when people are blatantly taking advantage of how nice you are, you have to draw a line they can’t cross.”
he smiled wide.
“i’d let you cross it.”
“no not even me,” you shook your head. “not that’d i’d ever anyways.”
he looked at you, and then unexpectedly, satoru slowly leaned in and pressed a delicate, soft kiss to your cheek— his lips lingering there greedily for a few seconds more before pulling away, your shocked bright pink cheeks making him burst out laughing.
you missed class without even realizing, but you didn’t have an ounce of care in your body, seeing as satoru was worth more than anything from that point on.
since then you both hung out a lot more, and you still had your little quiet nights of self care, arts and crafts, and movies— except now, satoru was present in every activity.
satoru longed for your lifestyle, and you longed for his— so the act of watching movies together until two in the morning, making horrific origami bird shapes that never looked like the pictures in the instruction manual and laughing, sorting through his 80’s cd collection in his apartment while he sampled a few for you on his bass, and singing the cure so loud through his car sunroof while he drove you aimlessly at night with a strong grip on your thigh, were all a perfect blend of exactly what you both needed most.
it was several months of spending every waking moment together that you soon eventually became a little thing with satoru. there wasn’t an official label, and you guys hadn’t even kissed, but the longer than normal embraces, kisses on each others cheeks, and intertwined fingers everywhere you went was an obvious sign that something was there.
you picked up on how people looked at you more often rather quickly ever since satoru started bringing you around his circle, wondering how you came out of nowhere and captured his attention when thousands had tried for years.
and though most welcomed you with open arms and kind smiles, the majority of his girl fan base was bitter.
shoko often told you to just shake it off and not pay any mind to it, saying that it was a bunch of mean girls with nothing better to do, but it got a little harder once a pretty black haired girl named lina started grabbing satoru for conversations almost every night at the alley.
and today was no different.
“hi sweets!” satoru greeted you enthusiastically, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek as you arrived early to the pub to help him and suguru set up for tonight’s show. “you look very pretty today.”
“thank you!” you smiled wide and leaned up on your tippy toes, your body automatically pulling your lips to his until you quickly steered them to the corner of his mouth, pecking lightly before settling back down on the soles of your feet.
that wasn’t the first time you had almost accidentally kissed him, but it wasn’t just you, as satoru slipped up almost every second of every day when you both were together— the thought making you laugh internally as you followed him to the stage.
“don’t help out this time—” he pleaded gently with you as he took a high barstool chair for you and dragged it closer to the stage. “i want you to just sit and be pretty.”
you tilted your head to the side. “why toru? i don’t mind helping out i like it—”
“no i know!” he smiled sweetly at you. “but i want you to just sit there and relax and not lift a finger tonight. you’ll hurt yourself if you do.”
you giggled softly and nodded, hopping up on the stool and wringing your fingers together on your lap as you watched satoru set up his amp and readjust his mic stand, gnawing on your bottom lip as you watched the way his biceps and chest looked in his black compression tee.
“are you thirsty sweets?” he asked, his eyes trained to the ground as he untangled a bunch of chords and threw them behind him. “i can get you something from the bar?”
“oh no!” you shook your head quickly. “it’s okay toru you’re busy—”
satoru hopped off the stage and jogged over to the bar, him exchanging a few words with the bartender that you couldn’t quite make out until he jogged back over with a cold glass of sugary iced tea, placing it on your table under a coaster.
“for you.”
you smiled sheepishly, “thank you.”
“if you need—”
“satoru! hey!”
you snapped your head over to the entrance and saw lina, her wave a little flirty as she bounced over to the both of you.
lina only spared you a glance before her sparkling suggestive eyes landed back on satoru.
“oh hey?” he looked over at the clock on the wall. “im sorry, the alley doesn’t open for another two hours—”
“oh i know!” she twirled a strand of hair with her fingers. “i just wanted to stop by and see if you needed any help? you know, setting up?”
what.
your eyebrows pinched together and you looked at satoru, waiting for his answer.
“oh! um— sure! thanks!” he smiled at her, and you felt a pang of annoyance through your chest as you watched him lead her on stage and give her directions, much like how he did for you when you helped out.
you crossed a leg over the other and looked away.
satoru wasn’t your boyfriend, so it wasn’t like you could say anything or feel the way that you did… but then again, isn’t he kind of? you didn’t know, and the more you wracked your brain to try and figure out what exactly the both of you were, the angrier you got at the situation in front of you.
satoru flashed lina his world famous dazzling smile, cracked joke after joke and made her laugh, helped her when she went “confused” and helpless, and even showed her basic chords on his bass when she asked.
you pursed your lips, eyes narrowed. satoru was smiling at her the way he smiled at you and cracking jokes the way he joked with you, and your jealousy only grew as you let your mind wander if the way satoru treated you was actually anything significant if he was willing to do it for some random girl.
you sat there for what had felt like forever, people starting to pile in for the show as the alley opened, and you hopped off the stool bitterly to cool off in the restroom, not bothering to let satoru know.
just as you got in line, you felt a hand tug at your wrist.
“y/n!”
you turned around and spotted shoko, smiling until she took in your annoyed expression.
“what’s wrong?”
“lina,” you muttered.
“oh god,” shoko leaned her weight on one side of her hip. “what the fuck is she doing now?”
“satoru help me, satoru how many chords does a bass have? satoru you’re so good at singing! satoru you owe me after this!” you mimicked, your heart heavy as you let shoko lead you back to your table.
“she’s getting braver,” she muttered. “say the word y/n and i’ll fake trip and spill my drink on her it’s easy—”
you snorted, “no no, it’s okay shoko. if satoru wants to let himself be drooled over and do nothing about it in respects to me, he can be my guest.”
the show started, girls already screaming and running up the stage with, of course, lina front and center by satoru, jumping and wiggling her sick fingers up at him.
satoru was like he normally was at his shows— attentive to everyone and being just who he is, but what ticked you off more than usual was how much attention he was paying to lina, way more than the rest, and you couldn’t even watch the stage anymore when satoru reached down and held her hand for a moment, not once glancing up at you.
you were done.
“i think i’m gonna go!” you shouted to shoko over the music.
“what?!” shoko grabbed your arm. “don’t go! it’s almost over! i wanna see you chew him out!”
you laughed and shook your head. “i can’t stand being here, and he clearly doesn’t care whether i’m here or not right now so—”
more screams.
both of your heads snapped to the source.
lina was on stage with him.
you scoffed and grabbed your purse, ignoring shoko’s protests as you pushed your way through the crowd and away from the stage.
when satoru finally decided to scan for you through the pub, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw your seat empty and shoko glaring straight murderous daggers at him.
“where is she going?” he mouthed to shoko.
“home!” she spat loudly, getting up herself and disappearing through the crowd.
satoru’s eyes immediately widened, his fingers clammy and numb as he started to pluck the wrong notes, suguru giving him a weird look.
“carry the show without me,” satoru quickly told him, frantic. “please, i have to go.”
suguru nodded and waved him off, seeming like he knew why satoru’s skin was sickishly pale as he carried on calmly.
it wasn’t like you to just leave without him or not tell him anything, so as he threw the strap of his bass over his shoulders and handed it to a tech member, he hopped off stage and ran through the crowd, ignoring their pleas of protest or the tugging he felt at his clothes.
you were halfway down the parking lot when you heard the pub door slam open and footsteps running towards you.
“sweets!—” satoru yelled. “hey- where are you going?!”
“home!” you yelled over your shoulder, arms crossed as you kept walking.
satoru’s stomach dropped.
“y/n!” he caught up to you and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around as he tried to catch his breath. “why? are you okay?”
“just fine!” you spat. “why don’t you go back on stage and drool all over lina—”
“lina?” he gawked. “drool? what are you talking—”
you shrugged his hands off of your shoulders. “do you not see how she’s been all over you for what seems like fucking months?! and you just let her! i’ve been ignoring it but today you really pissed me off—”
you turned away again and he immediately grabbed your waist with his hands, pulling you back.
“hey- no. tell me what i did okay just tell me—”
you scoffed. “you really don’t see it? first of all she came to the alley two fucking hours early today, and then she’s all over you and you’re all over her and you’re smiling at her and making her laugh like you do with me, and then she’s playing the little damsel in distress helping you set up while i just sat there and watched—”
“all over her?” his eyes narrowed. “i couldn’t give less of a shit about lina—”
“apparently you do!” you moved away from him, his hands falling from your hips. “because she’s giving you the ‘i wanna fuck you eyes’ every two seconds, and you’re holding her hand while you’re on stage, and then you literally pulled her on?! what the fuck am i supposed to think with that?!”
“i didn’t pull her on she jumped on!” satoru exclaimed, his arms out. “i’m sorry sweets that i didn’t notice okay i really am, but have you stopped to think that maybe i didn’t notice because i don’t care about her? i—”
“satoru you’ve been completely ignoring me the minute she got here—”
“toru.” he cut you off, voice firm. “it’s toru not satoru.”
you stopped, frustrated and hurt tears slowing brimming your eyes as you looked at him. “maybe you being a little flirt for everyone was okay before, but the minute you decided to butter me up and kiss my cheeks and call me sweets, that should’ve been over.”
“it is!” he exclaimed. “it’s been over! it never even started in the first place!”
“yes it did! you think i haven’t been watching how you are with people since high school?— you know what i’m done. i’m leaving.”
you sniffled and spun around again, but satoru only grabbed your wrist tightly and wrung you back.
“you think i haven’t been watching you?! i’ve loved you since fucking high school god dammit! i’m obsessed with you! when we officially met at the alley and i introduced myself i already knew your name and you know that! i don’t give a single living fuck about lina or anyone else but you! it’s always been you!”
you wiped your tears roughly with your sleeve.
gojo satoru loved you.
“so no. you’re not done. please don’t cry. all i’ve ever wanted was you and i let you slip through my hands in high school because i was a coward, and id rather die than let you slip through my fucking hands again and lose you over a stupid fight when i just got you!—”
“you’re not losing me i’m not going anywhere toru where the hell are you getting that from?!” you exclaimed.
“thank fuck then, so what are we still doing?! i’d cut everyone in my life off if you asked me to!—”
“no don’t do that! i was just jealous okay and i’m— and i’m angry—”
“okay but do you love me?!” he pushed angrily.
“yes! of course i do you know that!”
“okay so do i baby so what the fuck are we still fighting for?!”
“i don’t know!”
“stop giving me your little attitude then and come kiss me!”
your lips instantly collided with his as you threw your arms around his neck, fast hurried kisses that knocked the wind out of you as you both hungrily and fiercely tried to swallow each other’s lips, satoru tapping the back of your thighs and signaling you to jump on him.
you immediately sprung up and wrapped your legs around his waist, him holding you tight as he carried you over to his car and leaned you against the backseat door, his lips messily licking and swiping over yours as he seemed drunk on the taste of your sweet spit alone.
satoru dug through his pockets without breaking from your lips and found his keys, unlocking his car with a tap of a button and gently lowering you inside, him scrambling in after you and slamming the door shut, locking it.
he towered over you as he latched his lips back on yours, you laying flat on your back with your legs spread, satoru’s big cold hands on the sides of your thighs as he slowly slid your tiny little denim skirt further up— right up until he felt your silky panties under his fingertips.
“i gotta—” he said in between kisses. “take them off—”
you nodded quickly. “please take them off—”
satoru didn’t even let you finish before he practically tore your panties down your legs and stuffed them in his back pocket, his breathing erratic.
“oh my goodness,” he spread your legs gently, eyes completely wide and glazed over as he looked at your slick and shiny pussy. “you’re so pretty baby, just like how i pictured you.”
he ran a finger down your slit and your hips jumped, your teeth biting down on your lower lip as you let out a symphony of whines that satoru wanted to record on his phone and play morning, noon, and night for himself and his dick.
he stared mesmerized at your fuzzy pink cheeks and swollen wet lips as he slowly rubbed over your clit, you immediately grabbing his unoccupied hand and sticking his middle finger in your mouth to suck in response.
“oh my god—” he threw his head back, his delicious adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. “you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.”
he felt you bob your head up and down slowly on his finger and his head snapped down, eyes widening as he watched you act like a little slut for him, his hands with a mind of their own as he inserted his unoccupied middle finger in your slurping hole.
you let out a muffled gasp through the digit in your mouth and you spread your legs wider, his long and mouthwatering finger pumping in and out of you slowly, satoru’s body literally shivering at the sounds of your warm squelching pussy.
“listen to her baby…” he hummed. “she’s so fucking loud for me… how embarrassing.”
“toruuu,” you whined at his teasing, clamping your legs shut as you felt the tip of his finger hit that sweet spot in your walls that made your toes curl.
“open your legs.” he demanded. “who said you could close them, hm? i sure fucking didn’t.”
satoru picked up the pace and slipped in his ring finger without warning, your walls stretching and filling up as he abused your little cunt rapidly.
“you ever squirted before baby?” he huffed out, lips eating up your neck as you shuddered, your body jolting up and down at how fast he was fingering you.
you shook your head dumbly. “n—no, i don’t think i can—”
satoru laughed and bit your neck meanly. “yes you can sweets, your little pussy was just waiting for me to do it.”
he went even faster, a series of slap slap slap’s filling the car as his palm and digits hit your cunt repeatedly, sticky and soppy as he moaned over and over in your ear, absolutely intoxicated with the sloshing noises of your pussy and the way it was speaking to him, satoru utterly and incandescently obsessed with everything that was you.
“m—my god—” he panted, his pace brutal and animalistic as his long fingers rapidly plunged into your gummy hot hole, his tongue licking and slopping all over the side of your neck, your moans straight up filthy as the windows of his car fogged up.
“fuck fuck fuck fuck—” he dragged his mushy kisses from your neck up to your chin and back to your lips. “be my girlfriend—” slap slap slap— “p-please be my girlfriend be my girlfriend i need you so bad i c-can’t live without you anymore—”
you eagerly nodded, your thighs shaking as you gripped his shoulders and tried to keep up with his kisses that swallowed your lips up hole. “y-yes— mph! i will toru i will—”
his car shook violently as he fucked your cunt with his fingers without mercy, an unfamiliar intense feeling bubbling up at the pit of your stomach as he did so, your entire pussy pulsing and swollen as you squealed, massive droplets of liquid spraying all over satoru and the leather seats of his car.
“fuck yes baby, give me what i want that’s it—”
satoru groaned so loudly as you squirted, him jerking his nasty fingers to selfishly get more out of you.
“thaaaats it sweets—” he panted, slowing down. “that’s it.”
you evidently blacked out at this point, your brain misty and distorted as you tried to come down from your delirious high, a high you’ve never ever felt before with your own digits.
satoru licked his fingers raunchily and lowered his face to your pussy, cleaning up any remnants and left over drops on your thighs and pussy with his perverted tongue, your body jerking and you whining again as you shut your thighs closed in overstimulation.
he came back up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before flashing you the biggest most innocent smile, as if he didn’t just absolutely destroy your cunt minutes ago without grace.
slowly, you regained a sense of direction and finally looked at him properly as he sat down and pulled you gently up by his arms, your body practically limp as he settled you on his lap and hugged you affectionately, his cheek squished up against your forehead.
“so can you squirt or what.” he teased softly, a smile still on his face.
you giggled shyly and buried your face in his neck. “i made a mess.”
“that’s literally what i wanted don’t even start.” he mumbled, and you laughed again, louder this time.
“were you serious about me being your girlfriend?” you asked suddenly, your voice smaller and timid. satoru pulled back and tilted his head, catching your eyes with his.
“of course i was,” he said quietly. “i literally begged you while my fingers were knuckle deep in—”
you covered your face with your hands and laughed with a whine. “stop! okay okay! i get it.”
you took your face away from his neck and looked at him properly, tilting your head cutely as your eyes shined and sparkled with affection, him giving you the same look back as you leaned up and pecked his lips lovingly.
“you know…” you began. “when we first properly met and you asked me out that night, shoko told me there was a line i had to stand in if i was interested in you.”
satoru snorted, his eyebrows raised. “a line?”
you nodded. “mhm. you literally can’t pretend there isn’t one toru… and lina is in it too,” you finished off, snickering.
he rolled his eyes and huffed, feigning annoyance, but when he looked at you again, he only smiled and stared at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself, a blush to his pale cheeks that never seemed to go away as long as you were around.
“line or not—” he sincerely spoke.
“you’ve always been the first one.”
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madlori · 1 month
Text
My ankle journey
I am sharing this with all you good people on the dash because I am so fucking mad it took so long for me to learn it and if I can spare one (1) person the agony it will be worth it.
So for like...oh, 8 or 9 months, I've been struggling with pain/inflammation/tendinitis in my left Achilles tendon. I don't know what caused it. It just started up (welcome to middle age, this shit happens). It wasn't severe enough to be debilitating, but it was annoying and limiting. It was also intermittent, in that some days it would be very painful and other days hardly at all. The kind of shoe I was wearing affected it a lot.
Now, I have bone spurs on both heels (it's just a thing that happens as you get older sometimes). I'm also aware that heel pain is usually the result of tight calf muscles that pull and irritate the tendon. I tried stretching that calf muscle. You know the stretch, this bitch right here:
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I did it all the time. I also iced the ankle after walking for awhile, hoping to avoid inflammation. Results were...unsatisfying.
I went to:
A chiropractor
A podiatrist
A physical therapist
A bodywork coach
They all gave me some variation on the "strengthen your calf muscle, stretch your calf muscle" advice. I continued doing this without results.
I was getting frustrated, and a little afraid that this was just my life now. Finally, I thought...maybe some targeted massage might help. I asked for rec on a local FB site and was pointed to a woman who specializes in therapeutic massage including cupping, etc.
I went to her a week ago.
She spent over half our first session working on my left lower leg. Within about 10 minutes of making my eyes water, she uttered the sentence I did not know I had been waiting to hear:
"Oh, it's your soleus."
Excuse me, what?
"It's your soleus that's the culprit. It's all tied up and stiff." She started digging into it and I felt literal sparks run up my leg as she released adhesions and got the muscle moving a little. When she finally put the leg down, it felt like it was on fire with all the blood rushing into it.
She said, "You'll need to stretch your soleus. It'll clear up, but it'll take a bit of time - tendons take ages to heal."
But I HAVE been stretching.
"No, you haven't. The usual straight-leg calf stretch only stretches the gastrocnemius, that's the big belly muscle in your calf. That's not your problem. That stretch doesn't stretch the soleus. Don't worry, I'll show you how to stretch it."
My mind is spinning.
So here are the muscles in question:
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The gastroc (as the pros call it) just attaches down the back but the soleus runs underneath it from the knee around the side to the heel. The lower part above the ankle is where it typically gets tight and forms adhesions.
To stretch it, you do the same calf thing where you put your foot back and press your heel to the ground, but you have to do it with your KNEE BENT:
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The bent knee keeps the gastroc from engaging. It's one of those selfish muscles (like traps) - if you give it an inch, it'll just take over and prevent other muscles from working or stretching. There are other ways to stretch the soleus but this is the easiest and you can literally do it anywhere. I've been doing it while standing and waiting for things (the elevator to come, the toast to toast). You just put the heel back and bend the knee. It's kind of like curtseying.
The minute I did this stretch, I could FEEL where it was pulling on my tendon. I knew that THIS had been the problem.
The massage therapist also told me to stop icing my heel. She said icing is for an acute injury, but a more chronic aggravation needs heat, to increase blood flow for healing. She recommended elevation with heat every day (I've been doing it in bed during "phone before bed" time).
I have been doing the soleus stretch at least half a dozen times a day for almost a week, and the ankle is at least 70% better. It is still a little tight and tender, but the improvement is significant. I think a few more weeks will have it feeling normal.
I am...blown away by this. This massage therapist was able to pinpoint an issue in only a few minutes that eluded all the other professionals I saw. I can't wait to go back to her and have her solve all my other problems, tbh.
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moondirti · 3 months
Text
MDNI. dubcon. objectification. degradation. humiliation. guys being gross. female reader. fingering. cunnilingus. pussy slapping. brief aftercare. an absurd amount of filth for something so short.
price helping you get over your fear of humiliation by inviting the guys over and prying your pussy open for them, half-slouched on his lap with your legs held up in the air :( they’re so mean about it, too. cooing condescending compliments, curling their nasty hands around your jaw to keep your head in place as they pet your most vulnerable places, like you’re the winning pup at a dog show and not a whole human—entitled to any boundary you set, regardless of how your husband feels.
they pay no heed to your protests, though. actually, the men avoid addressing you at all. rather, all their personal, invasive questions are directed to price, who answers them with his own self-satisfied grin.
‘keeps clenchin’ around nothing, desperate thing. hole this willing deserves to be gaped. how often d'you stuff her?’ depends on if she's been good.
‘fookin’ drooched, cap. does she taste as guid as she looks?’ mm, better. smells like nectar too. take a whiff, son. don’ wash my beard afterward on the occasion, jus to keep her under my nose.
‘think i can thaw a winter’s worth of ice with this cunt alone. heat’s practically radiating off ‘er. pathetic slut.’ y’should see how much worse it gets after a good beating, lieutenant. swells up, and damn well sears my palm.
and of course they take it upon themselves to test the validity of his answers. kyle works four fingers into you, then his thumb, stretching you open for his probing, angling your hips up to the light so that your insides are illuminated for his curious eye. if price didn’t have his rough hands anchored to the underside of your knees, you would have kicked his prized sergeant off.
embarrassment washes your neck in warmth, lashes droopy with fat tears. all your husband does to comfort you is place a scratchy kiss to your shoulder, soft hushes tickling your skin.
then, soap intercedes to shove his nose to your mons. he doesn’t just take a whiff — rather, he sucks in the sweet-sour tang your slick provides, testing it in both scent and taste. his hot tongue laves over where kyle’s fingers had been, incisors nibbling at the ripe bud of your clit. mortifying pleasure sinks low, sloshing in your belly’s bed. though you did not expect him to be, he isn’t modest about it. soap presses completely into your pussy, muzzle lacquered with wetness that rivals yours.
your whimpers devolve into moans. loud, a little unhinged. you’ve always played at dressing them up around price, worried that he’d turn away if your face screwed too tight, or your pleasure made itself known beyond what directly serves him. it’s exactly the habit that got you into this mess; and as you lose yourself to the scene, you can feel his delight blossoming against your back.
ghost scares you the most. he lets you have your orgasm, towering behind the man between your legs, but does not let him revel in it, yanking him back by his mohawk at the first twitch of your toes. in the fervour, you have hard time remembering what you should expect. especially when he doesn’t get to it immediately, wiping the gloss off your plush cunt. his callouses rash you, gritty, abrading the soft surface of your skin. it is only when you wince do his eyes crinkle in a manner cruel enough to evoke what’s to come.
but it’s too late to prime yourself. his hand flies back, coming back twice as fast to strike dead centre between your legs. it hurts. hurts so much more than it ever has before, your body unused to unrestrained strength. you scream, throat mangling around the rough cut of it, fighting wildly against price until you manage to escape his hold. immediately, instead of running away, you twist backwards, burying your face into his neck, calming yourself by taking deep breaths of his cologne. something heady — leather, tobacco, sandalwood — bridges the synapses in your brain, numbs the pain, if only a little.
“shhh, little one. you’re alright. it’s okay. doing so good for us.” he soothes, rubbing your sweaty back. the world narrows to just you and him, his men reduced to mere afterthoughts. to be dealt with later — though you doubt the conversation will be anywhere near reprimanding, more likely to end with a bottle of scotch split between four, approving slaps to the captain’s back, than it ever will in your defence.
“n-ne- never a-ga…”
“come, now. let’s not be brash, mm. i promised them a pump each. ‘n’ what kind of host would i be if i didn’t make good on that?”
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hoshigray · 5 months
Note
hello, lovely! is it okay to request a short fic wherein gojo’s pregnant wife (y/n) stole his kikufuku? thank u! (missing soft gojo hours 😭)
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𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg stoooop this is so cute and sweet, what!?
⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x pregnant afab/fem! reader - tooth-rotting fluff - pet names (angel, baby, stars and moon, sweetheart) - Gojo being a big crybaby over sweets - so soft, i was smiling while writing, hehe~.
⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k
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THUD!
“…!” You jolt, immediately looking to the entrance of the living room to see your husband. “Gojo! You okay?”
The white-haired man stands still with a gawked expression, eyes covered by his black blindfold with his usual Jujutsu Tech attire, and you can assume the noise came from the souvenir bags he dropped to the floor.
“…Y/n, my angelic stars and moon,” he finally speaks after a few seconds of silence, and you can see his lips quiver with trembling hands. “Is…Is that my last kikufuku?” 
If there is one thing Gojo loved more than anything other than you, it would be his undying love for sweets! You could never find him without any at his disposal; he’d have a bunch of lollipops in his pockets, be licking popsicles or soft serves while monitoring his first years during their missions, or typically stop by a café and grab some crepes for dessert to take home and share with you. He’s known to have a childish heart, and sweets are his weakness!
His all-time favorite would be the mochi delicacy he often gets during his mission trips to Sendai, and he’s always sure to buy a whole box worth to make the long trip up North worth it. Kikufuku, the crushed edamame and cream-filled mochi, is Gojo’s favorite sweet to eat — you’re a witness to him happily stuffing his face with them lying on the couch after a hard day’s work. He’s the type to eat one every week until he can return to Sendai and get more. 
This week was the very last one he had saved, secured in the cold fridge for him to eat once he got home. And he wasn’t going to Sendai anytime soon, so he planned on treasuring and savoring it the moment he stepped inside and lay beside his pregnant partner to chill on this blissful spring evening.
He could never get over the sight of you whenever he came home. Gojo loved his partner so much that he swears he would burn the world if you commanded him to, which you knew is an exaggeration, but his love is true. The day he got on one knee and heard you say yes to his proposal was the happiest he’d ever been, sweeping you off your feet, putting you in your dream puffy white dress, and officially becoming the spouse of the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world! And now you were swole with his child!? Not even God could strike this man to calm him down of his glee.
You were sitting on the living room couch like you always did, waiting for your husband to return, wearing a black maternity one-piece that comfortably molded around your figure and a blue flannel shirt – his flannel – to keep you warm. Gojo came home with souvenirs to share and impress, a huge smile just from thinking about your reactions. 
However, the sight has him gasp dramatically loud and drop everything to the wooden floor, because he saw something in your hand, something that broke his heart noticing the green and white filling apparent from a bite on an undeniable white rice cake. 
You were eating the very last of his kikufuku…How could you!?
You blinked at him, then turned to the sweet in your hand, and the realization of what you were doing finally hit you. “Oh! I’m sorry, Satoru! I was feeling snacky.”
The tall man teeters to where you’re sitting, whining with every step. “So why didn’t you eat your snacks, sweetheart?”
“I don’t know?” You shrugged, licking bits of the edamame cream off your middle finger. “They didn’t seem like what I was craving for. I wanted something sweet, ya know? And I finished my ice cream two nights ago, so this was all I could find.”
“Yeah, but like,” you can tell his eyebrows were scrunched together even if the black material concealed his upper face. “That was my last one, baby! Plus, you could’ve texted me you’d eat it, or I could’ve stopped somewhere to grab you something sweet!”
���I know! But, you were very busy today; a big mission up in Kyoto and a meeting with Principal Yaga, sooo…” you squished the mochi gently, licking more of the filling coming out. “I didn’t wanna interrupt or bother you…”
“But stilllll~!”God, you were so cute when you cared for him, you almost made him forget the whole thing then and there. But you can’t hate the man for being a little upset, right? Gojo sighs and places his cheek on your belly. “Little booger, you hear what your momma is doing to me? So cruel~.”
You gasped. “Hey! Don’t say that to them!” Your free hand tries to yank him off your tummy by the hair, yet he doesn’t budge as he exclaims painfully. “What, are you saying the pregnant love of your life is some villain because they ate one of your sweets? As if I never caught you taking scoops of my favorite ice cream!? Have you no shame, Gojo Satoru!”
He swats your hand off his snowy hair, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Between you and Principal Yaga, there is a scarce few Gojo would allow to beat him up for his foolishness. He turns his head – still above the baby – to face you and releases a sigh. “I’m sorry, I was just really stoked I’d get to have that kikufuku; it’ll be a long while before I go get more…Ughhh.” Another sigh is exerted, and you can only shake your head with rolled eyes. He’s such a baby.
You bring his blindfold down to his chin to free the azure eyes he’s been hiding since this morning, and his hair falls from its spiky appearance. Then, you separate the mochi into two and push one to his lips, “You happy now?” You say with a grin. “I’m sorry, but I wanted to give these a try. Besides, we’ll have a little one to look after soon; wouldn’t it be nice for them to know what their father likes to snack on from time to time?”
Now, how in the world could Gojo still be upset with that logic? Being a father is a foreign concept he’s accepting with open arms, sharing the experience with the person he values and cherishes the most. To have a child with you is the highest honor of all for him. And imagining his small family happy and eating sweets together under his care makes his cheeks show a subtle shade of pink.
He smiles as he accepts the piece of the rice cake, chuckling when you flick his nose playfully. “You’re so sweet, angel.”
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© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.
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swordsandholly · 3 months
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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology
MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist
Part 7: Firsts
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Kyle bought you lunch before your set time. To make sure you ate, he said. He still asked about five times if you felt like you ate enough or needed water even after sitting across from you while you downed a to-go container of pad se ew and your fourth ounce bottle.
You just laugh and point to a piece on your knee. “Babes I got this with nothing but a trenta iced coffee and two hours of sleep in my system. I’m fine, I promise.”
John made a baffled noise at that. Kyle looked like he was going to throw up. That look remained as he went through the process of setting up in John’s studio room. Kyle is meticulous about it. Each step done with care. You feel a bit silly sitting around and twiddling your thumbs.
“Just breathe. It’s fine.” John murmurs in a low rumble that somehow has you relaxing more than the indented party.
“It’s almost more scary doing someone I know.” Kyle huffs.
You laugh. “Can’t be worse than the blown out piece of shit on my left arm. C’mon, I’ve seen what you can do. You’ve got this.”
John nods, sitting on the other side of you.
“Besides, even if it sucks I’ll still be honored to be your first real apprentice tattoo.” You pipe up.
Kyle chuckles, low and unsure. Part of you wants to give him an out, to say he doesn’t have to, but you can see the set of his jaw even as his eyes flick between his supplies and the stencil in his hand nervously. He’s determined as much as he is scared. There’s no getting him out of that headspace until he’s done.
You chose something easy. One of Kyle’s more dainty, simple flash designs for the back of your thigh, just below the curve of your ass. A little bow with minimal shading. Something he’s practiced a thousand times and an easy enough starting point. Plus, you already mentioned having him do a matching one on the other side when he’s ready for it. Easy practice.
“C’mon, at least get the stencil on before you have a panic attack.” You try to keep your voice light, turning your back to him.
Kyle sighs. You hear his stool roll forward as he scoots in close to place it. John shuffles around to stand over him. A nasty part of your brain complains about exposing your cellulite to these two fit men but you push that deep down into nothing. A second, more embarrassing part wonders if you should have chose a more appropriate spot… that maybe you shouldn’t be standing in front of your boss and coworker in teeny-tiny biker shorts that barely cover you. You shove that down right next to the other mean thoughts.
You pointedly ignore the heat that shoots up your spine as Kyle’s hands feel out the shape of your thigh to get it centered - keeping your eyes forward as he slowly presses the paper against you. You could swear a thumb traces the curve of your cheek as he smoothes it but that’s probably just wishful thinking.
“Good job, kid.” John claps a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as soon as the paper is pulled away. You turn around in the mirror to check it, expecting to probably have to move it, but from what you can tell it really is perfect.
“Damn, dude, on your first try!” You grin, clapping happily.
Kyle nods stiffly, but you see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up. You unceremoniously clamber onto the table, moving around so your back doesn’t hurt from laying flat for the next few hours with your arms folded under your head.
“Hey.” You whisper while John steps away to grab something. “Get through this without freaking out and I’ll give you a reward.”
“A reward?” He tilts his head, smile turning from an nervous curl of his lip to a boyish grin.
You jokingly bat your lashes. “I’ll give you a kiss.”
Kyle chuckles. “With tongue?”
You gawk, face hot. “Mr. Garrick! Where’d my knight in shining armor go?”
“Just tryin’ t’ figure out exactly what I’m workin’ toward.”
You hum, pretending to mull it over. “We’ll see. Depends on how well you do.”
Kyle levels a look at you, something heated as his lip catches between his teeth. It’s only there for a moment, gone as soon as he turns to his tools. Replaced by a laser focus.
“Alright.” John settles back into his seat on your other side. “Let’s do one line and then see how we all feel.”
Kyle nods. You shuffle a little to make you’re you’re as comfortable as possible for the next however long. You know it’s going to be a while even if it isn’t a simple design. He’s new and precise with means slow.
The familiar whirr of the gun starts up. You shut your eyes, waiting, hoping that you aren’t projecting any more tension into the room than Kyle is. The needle stings when it finally touches you, but not as badly as you braced for. His touch is light.
He pulls the gun away and let’s put a giant sigh. “How y’feel, luv?”
“Hm? Oh, I’m all good. You?” You tilt your chin a bit to meet his eye.
“Better now that it’s started.”
“Good.” John nods, chest bumping your leg as he leans forward to look. “Looks good. Keep on.”
The room is nearly silent as he works. You turned down the music before coming back so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed - at least that was your reasoning. You’d get overwhelmed. Kyle is more levelheaded than you are, though.
“Thassit.” John smiles - or at least that’s how it sounds in his voice. “Her skin takes ink so well, yeah?”
Fuck, that totally should not do it for you. Gravelly voiced British bastard. You keep your eyes locked onto the flash on the far wall as you attempt to cool down.
Kyle just hums, seemingly unable to talk as he concentrates. He probably is with how dialed in he looks. You take a break before he gets to shading, stretching and getting some water. It takes a while, but not as long as you assumed. You start to get that ache in your skin partway through the shading - that feeling when your nerves are so tired from firing off pain receptors they just all sort of start burning dully.
However long later Kyle pulls away. “I… think it’s done?”
“You think?” John challenges.
Kyle sighs before speaking with more finality. “It’s done.”
There’s a few beats where John assess and you hold your breath. He points to a couple spots where Kyle’s hand slipped a bit or he applied too much pressure, but when you check it out in the mirror yourself you don’t see that all. Perfectionists.
You can’t help but squeal and jump, clapping happily and barely standing still while Kyle puts the saniderm on. You’re just to happy! Not only did Kyle get his first tattoo done but now you have brand new (free) cute ink to show off. Kyle looks tired, though, so you try not over overwhelm him while he cleans up. Concentrating like that with anxiety must have really taken it out of him.
You sort of forget about your promise of a reward for the next week. Too busy focusing on taking care of your new tattoo. The only downside to the placement is sitting in your office chair itches - especially once you take the saniderm off. You’ve mostly taken to standing while working and wearing shorts and skirts to let it breathe. It’s worth it, though. You’ll have to ask Kyle how soon he wants to do the other one. Without being pushy, of course.
You quietly hum to yourself as you get the cash drawers ready to lock away in the backroom safe. Triple checking the bags and making sure tips are divided correctly, etc.
“Hey, lovie.” Kyle saddles up behind you suddenly, hands on your hips.
You jump. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!”
“Sorry.” He chuckles. A hand slips down your hip, palm tracing the hem of your tennis skirt to lightly rest over the little bow. “How’s she healin’?”
“It’s, uh, it-“ You stutter, eyes wide and skin hot. If it were Johnny, you’d laugh and swat him away - maybe let his hand wander to your ass first - but Kyle doesn’t do this. Not that you don’t like it - the problem lies in that you’re liking it too much. If the patter of your heart is anything to go by. “It’s good. Not itching yet or anything.”
Kyle hums. “Good.”
“Th-that all?”
“Think you forgot somethin’.” He turns you around, hands firmly planted on the softness of your waist. When you just give him a bewildered look he continues. “I was promised a reward, I think.”
“O-oh?” Your face burns, eyes wide. Is he serious? Part of you wants to say no - to push him away. You’re coworkers, after all. Until your eyes meet his, so big and warm and his lips forming a perfect pout. “John….?”
Kyle chuckles ans crosses his chest. “John won’t care. Cross my heart.”
He gives you a moment to mull it over. You don’t think he’s making fun of or bating you - Kyle wouldn’t do that. There’s no way he’s interested either. That’s one delusion you can firmly plant in the ’purely imaginary’ category.
Whatever. What do you have to lose from a little back room make out?
Your lips meets his. Fuck, they’re soft. He steals your breath - greedy and gentile. It’s been so long since you’ve been kissed, much less kissed well. One of the hands on your waist moves to your low back as Kyle leans into you. Your hands grapple onto his shoulders to steady you. He takes advantage of your gasp at being tilted back to swipe is tongue between your lips.
You mould together, breaths heavy and tongues dancing. A needy, pathetic little part of you wishes the hand that drifted from your waist to your hip would hook under your thigh. That Kyle would tilt you all the way back onto the desk and throw your leg over his shoulder, eagerly pushing up your skirt-
An ‘I love you’ dances on the tip of your tongue and you reel back harshly, hand flat on his chest to separate you.
“Alright?” He murmurs, eyes half lidded and dark.
You swallow roughly and nod, breathing hard. “I, uh, I need to finish the safe.”
Something passes across his face briefly as your eyes flick between his. Whatever it was, it’s replaced by his usual easy smile as he returns to standing at his full height, the hands on your waist steady you before disappearing. Your stomach drops as they go.
“See you tomorrow.” Kyle murmurs, pressing one last little peck on your cheek before striding away, leaving you alone in the back room with a hot face and whirlwind thoughts.
Fuck.
A/N: brought to you by the time a tattoo artist told me my skin takes ink well in the most haunting bedroom voice I’ve ever heard😵‍💫 killed me right then and there
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rememberwren · 1 month
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Easy breezy beautiful premature ejaculation. Hypersexual!Simon/fem!reader. Discussion of edging. Cumming untouched.
-
“If we do this,” he says around his cigarette, “then we do it my way.”
“I’ve never done this before,” you admit cautiously, turning your hands palm up as if to show you have no weapons, no tricks up your sleeve. I’m innocuous, your posture says. His own says: I’m still deciding, with his tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. “This weird, femdom thing. So I appreciate your guidance. Because I know fuck all—“
“You’re no femdom—Jesus, fuck, I can’t talk about it anymore,” he grits out. He takes a step back and away, creating distance, exhaling a plume of smoke that makes him look strangely ethereal in the evening light. Against your will, your eyes flicker down to just below his belt buckle and oh god. He’s hard. 
“Just from talking about it?”
The look he gives you could melt ice. It could sublimate it. You cringe, knowing you were in the wrong, wishing you could reach out and snatch the words right out of the air. He’s trusting you with this. The last thing he needs is to feel like a joke. 
“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have—you’re not a, a science experiment or something—“
“Wouldn’t mind that so much. Might figure out what the fuck’s wrong with me. Less interested in being treated like I’m part of a circus troupe,” he grumbles. He drops the cigarette and grinds it to ash beneath his boot. He asks: “Inside?” 
-
Gingerly, so gingerly, he undoes the button of his jeans and unzips them. He holds his breath as he works the denim down his thick thighs. God, is he built: muscles made for more than just show. His history is inscribed on his body in its strength and in its scars, scars of white and pale pinks that darken to purple in the lamplight. He’s wearing boxer briefs, straining at the front from his erection, and they are soaked. You’re surprised that he hasn’t soaked straight through to his jeans. 
“Don’t look,” he grits out through his teeth. You look away, unsure where to cast your eyes to, and settle for shutting them. He explains: “Can’t take the way you’re looking at me.”
“Sorry,” you mutter, feeling your face flush hot. 
“Just—let me—” you hear the sound of fabric rustling. He kicks off his jeans—you can tell by the soft sound of them landing against the floor off the side of the bed. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck.” 
“What’s wrong?” you ask, eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching in your lap. 
“Nothing just—fuck. No way I’m going to last.” He sounds bitterly disappointed. 
“That’s the point of this, right? To get better at lasting?” 
He sighs, a long-suffering sound, like this discussion is well worn and frustrating to him. Something in you shrivels, and it takes your body with it as best as it can, sending your shoulders hunching inwards, your head ducking down. You pick at one of your nails by feel alone, eyes still closed, and nearly jump when his fingers brush your knee. 
“Sorry,” he mutters. “You’re right. That’s what this is for. Might as well get used to embarrassing myself.” 
“That’s the spirit." 
He snorts. More fabric rustles, and at length he says: “Alright. You can look. Just…you can look.” 
You open your eyes hesitantly. His cock is right there—and Jesus. It makes sense, proportionally, but it is frightening in a very real sense. You’re already doing the math, measuring in your head and comparing to your past precedents. Ghost would have them all beat, quite comfortably, in length and girth. He’s cut, which surprises you, but isn’t a turnoff. He keeps himself landscaped nicely, which you appreciate, even if it isn’t necessary. 
He is flushed a ruddy pink, the head darker than the rest. As you stare, it jerks, a bead of precum welling at the tip. Suddenly one of his large, scarred hands reaches down and grips the base of his cock in a painful hold, hissing in a breath through his teeth. 
“Can’t look at me like that,” he admonishes again. 
“Like what?” you ask, a little defensive. You’re just looking! You have to look, right? 
“Like you want it,” he mutters. 
God, does he really have no idea? No inkling of how badly you want to sit on that monster in his hands? No notion of how wet you’ve been since your conversation in the parking lot? Sure you aren't like him, not about to spring off if the breeze was just right, but you are anything but unaffected. Still, it seems like the wrong moment to educate him on your attraction to him and his cock, so you do your best to morph your expression into one of unimpressed ambivalence and hoped it helps. 
“I’m ready when you are,” you say, interrupting his deep breathing exercises. He nods but doesn’t give you the go-ahead, not for another minute or two, until his chest stops heaving and he can remove his hand from the vice grip he has around his balls. His cock has a near purple tinge, and you wonder if maybe he should have rubbed one out in the bathroom beforehand just to take the edge off. Oh well, it’s a thought for next time. 
“Go ahead,” he says, like he’s giving you permission to pull the trigger on him during a game of Russian Roulette. 
You reach out—his cock twitches, a nice warm welcome if you’ve ever seen one, but you hesitate. Your hand is dry. Should you ask for lube? How does he usually jerk off? Dry? You have a feeling he doesn’t mind the discomfort; he seems like he has a self-destructive streak a mile wide. His eyes are fixed at a point on the ceiling, his chest unmoving as he holds his breath. You decide that some sort of lubrication is better than none—so you lick a broad stripe up your palm. 
“Fuck,” he whispers, a little punched-out sound. Sometime between opening your mouth and licking your palm, his eyes had transferred from the ceiling to your face, to the flash of your tongue and your wet palm. His eyes widen, irises swallowed up by the pupils, and he says again, more urgently: “Oh fuck.” 
He reaches down to grip the base of his cock again, but it is too late: he cums. His abs are thrown into sharp relief as he tenses with each pulse, cock jerking against his brutal grip. He doesn’t even jerk himself off—just ruins it as you stare with your mouth open and your hand wet, watching him splatter seed against the coarse line of hair that runs from his belly button to his cock all because he watched you lick your hand. 
“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, throwing one arm across his eyes, breathing heavily. His mouth is flushed a pretty red, like he has been kissing. His hand clenches into a fist as he says: “I’m sorry. I tried not to.” 
“It’s okay,” you say, your nearly brain blue-screening from how turned on you are. You lower your hand and wipe it dry on your leggings. “That’s what this practice is for—so you don’t do it when it really counts. We can try again tomorrow or something.” 
He snorts. “Tomorrow? Give me five fucking minutes.” 
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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months
Text
favorite girl to see
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words: 700
warnings: implied sex, cart girl!reader, soft!rafe, fluffy
“hey boys.” you grin as you greet them all, but your eye is on one boy in particular.
“there's my favorite girl to see.” rafe smiles, quickly putting his putter back in his golf bag.
you roll your eyes despite your cheeks blushing. “you just like me because i bring you drinks.”
“nope.” rafe shakes his head, walking closer to you as you stay sat in the cart, worried your knees would buckle if you tried to stand up with his full attention on you. “otherwise id say that to all the cart girls.���
“mmm, and you don't?” you raise your eyebrows.
“absolutely not.” rafe scoffs like it's a ridiculous notion.
“what'll it be for you today?” you ask rafe, standing carefully and rounding the golf cart to the drinks area, opening up the cooler, expecting to grab him a high noon or white claw like usual.
“just a water, actually.” rafe turns to look at his friend he's golfing with. you don't even glance away from rafes perfectly chiseled features. “anything for you top?”
“im good.”
“one water it is.” you dig out a bottle from the melting ice, taking a towel and drying off the sides so you don't have a wet drink to rafe.
“so kind.” he coos, reaching into his wallet.
“rafe-” you sigh, already knowing what is coming as he pulls out a hundred dollar bill.
“nope.” rafe says, stuffing the bill into your hand. “take it. a tip for my favorite girl to see.”
“the water is like five bucks, this is a ridiculous tip.” you state, always trying to argue against the way rafe tips you, knowing you'll end up conceding and taking it. 
“well, if it makes you feel better about it, there is something else you can do for me.”
“hm?” you question as rafe pulls out his phone, taps a few buttons, and then hands it to you.
“put your number in.”
-- 6 months later --
you look around the golf course, having taken a later shift instead of the early one you're used to. you're getting out on the green much later than normal, trying to spot your regulars, one in particular.
you put your cart into drive the moment you see him, skipping by any other groups who may be trying to buy something. you'll loop back later to get their orders, but your sole focus is on one man.
“rafe.” you hop out your cart, giving a quick look around before jumping into his open arms, knowing while employee member relationships are technically against the rules, rafe could pull a few strings if anyone ever tattled on you.
“my girl.” rafes smile is infectious, especially as his hands drop down to squeeze your ass over your skirt, pulling your hips right up against his. “you're here late.”
“let's just say someone kept me up late last night.” you giggle, pressing a kiss to rafes lips, knowing he's the reason you had to switch shifts this morning.
rafe deepens the kiss, one hand coming to the back of your neck to keep you close as his mouth covers yours, lips and tongue gliding against each other.
“babe-” you sigh, pulling away.
“yeah, i know.” rafe steps away, knowing you only allow so much pda when you're at work.
it's one of the reasons rafe tried to convince you to quit many times, insisting you didn't need to work now that you had him, but you like picking up a few hours every week.
“what can i get you?” you ask, taking his hand in yours and tugging him towards the cart.
“another kiss.” rafe smiles. you roll your eyes and press a quick peck to his lips.
“and to drink?”
“gatorade, i guess.” rafe shrugs. “im also kinda tired from last night.”
you don't miss the wink that he gives you as you fish out his drink.
rafe grabs his wallet from his back pocket as you let out a groan, knowing what is to come, his tipping habits not changing one bit despite being together.
“what?” rafe says, handing you the large bill, knowing he'll take you shopping later to spend it. “i want to make sure you give better service to me than any of these old bastards.”
“speaking of service-” you get on your tiptoes and whisper into rafes ear. “meet me in the employee break room in 30?”
sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen @drewsephrry
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drgnflyteabox · 2 months
Text
mdni - the 141 find a cozy place to stay during an op (that's definitely all that happens). implied fat!reader
(dubcon, poly, gangbang, anal, price is in charge of everyone<3)
So blizzards can happen in the blink of an eye on high, isolated mountains, right?
And the 141 have done missions in rural places, snowy places, mountainous places, right?
And there are tons of tiny little isolated towns, all over the world, built around these mountains for one reason or another - coal mining, logging, etc.
Now imagine the 141 on a mission, somewhere cold, somewhere isolated, a place that feels like the edge of the world. Desolate.
Now imagine the 141 seeing, in the near distance, a winking pale orange light. It's a good enough place as any to approach - it isn't safe to be caught in this blizzard, anyhow. Even with their gear, the safehouse is still an hour away and the snowfall seems historic...
Now imagine you're sitting in your family home, all alone, going a little crazy with cabin fever. Your woodstove is burning hot, but you're still cuddled up in knits and a thermal underneath. You're making stew for dinner with root vegetables from the basement cellar, it's bubbling and softening for you while you crochet, trying to keep your mind off the monumental shoveling task you'll have to deal with tomorrow
Until there's a knock on the door.
"Hello ma'am, I'm just wondering if me and my friends here could rest until it's safe to continue our hike?" (I love the way gaz says ma'am)
Hike? Nobody hikes up here - you've only ever seen a couple tourists in your life, thrill seeking ice climbers who came and went.
And they certainly weren't dressed in snow camo, hiding guns behind their backs.
But you were raised right, and the man at the door has kind eyes - he's handsome, too, but you'd never say it out loud. Gaz pushes the door further in when you tentatively open it, and in comes barreling three more massive men, their boots stomping and leaving a mess.
Soap smells the stew on the stove and beelines for it, lifting his helmet to inhale deeply.
Ghost sweeps the room like it might be hiding an enemy somewhere- even though it's one room total, the stove in the middle, separating the kitchen and your bed.
Price approaches you all apologetic, apologizing for "these ruffians", holding his camo helmet to his gut like it's formalwear. "Apologies, sweetheart, we weren't expecting the weather to turn on us."
You aren't quite sure how you end up sitting on prices lap, naked except for your socks, while he squeezes your stomach and grunts in your ear not to be shy when putting your weight on him. His other hand is cupped over your pussy, murming thank yous for feeding his men.
They're eating your stew, stripped out of gear, cocks tented in their white cargos.
"We're a gaggle of lucky boys, eh?" Soap says. "Nice, cozy, soft girl. Warm cabin. A man could get used to this."
You wind up pressed down on your mattress, hands held behind you by one man while another fucks you hard, spurred on by price behind them. At first, it's johnny, whining high in his throat while price guides his hips and gaz holds your arms by your head. "Need to thank her proper, boy." The obvious authority in prices voice makes your pussy clench around him, and he shakes over you, trying hard not to come too early.
Gaz reaches down from where he's holding your arms, pinching your clit until you buck against Johnny and squirt around him.
Then it's gaz, who lifts your legs and squeezes your big thighs, locking eyes with ghost. He's steady, only breaking composure when Simon praises him. "Thats a lad. Good, just like that, Kyle." He's the first to ever make you come from penetration alone, hips moving in a way that makes your abdomen tighten and tighten and tighten until you reach the longest orgasm of your life, nearly crying with how intense it feels.
Price ends up flipping you over - nudging you up on your hands and knees, the bed creaking with the combined weight of he and his lieutenant taking their places in front and behind you.
Simon slips his cock in your mouth, staring down at you through the balaclava. You can barely make out a thick scar, one that looks like it might go through his whole face. You lose focus when price pushes his fingers in your ass, though, and you squeal.
There's no where to run except further down simons cock, though, where you gag, spit running all down your chest onto the bed.
"Shh, sh," Price rubs your flank like you're a spooked animal. He squeezes the ample flesh of your asscheek appreciatively. "Jus wanna give your poor pussy a break, aye? I reckon she's tired,"
He pushes into you impatiently and it burns a little, but he soothes it with a palm over your soft, sore cunt. Rubs a thumb over your clit slowly, jostling you back and forth over simons cock.
You come once more before the night is over, tears finally running down your cheeks, mixing with your saliva, with simons come. It's a painful orgasm, wrenched from you - but that makes it all the sweeter.
They wipe you down and spoon feed you more stew, after, to recover your energy :') price has the boys tidy their boot tracks and put away leftovers while he and Simon hold you from both sides. They can barely fit with you on your bed, but tucked in like this - on top of your furs, naked as the day you were born, praised for your soft body and "What a good girl you are, babydoll."
Sigh
I'm sure this idea has probably been written but I was listening to this and couldn't stop imagining it lmfao
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luveline · 10 months
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i just bought the actual cutest spider-man hoodie and now i’m thinking about peter seeing reader wearing spider-man merch !!! <333
The thwack is telling. You hear the splat and your heart jumps out of your chest, that weird wet sound against red-brick wall, and then you realise what it means and start to panic. 
“Hey, woah woah woah!” Peter says, jimmying open your bum window with a too-strong hand. “It's just me, don't panic.” 
You clamber off of the desk chair you're in and rush into the bathroom. 
“Hello?” 
“Two seconds!” you shout, closing the door hard behind you. You can hear the light pad of Peter's footsteps on the floor from the window, but after that he must disguise the weight of them, and you're doubly startled by his knock. “Two seconds, Peter.” 
“Uh… no?” 
You look around frantically. “What do you mean, no?” 
“You're freaking out? Let me in? Like, right now?” 
“None of those were questions.” 
Peter starts to rattle your door handle. “I'll break it!” he threatens, his voice in that funny place where he's joking but not, the same tone he uses to mess with bad guys who underestimate him. You're being teased. 
You pull your shirt over your head just as he opens the door. “Hey, turns out it wasn't locked.” He blinks at you. “Um. Hello to you, too? This isn't the welcome I was expecting.” 
“Cut the smarm. I got, uh. Soup on me.” 
“Soup.” 
You nod fiercely. “So much soup.” 
“You know I'd smell it, right?” he asks, his hair damp with sweat, the mask stuffed in the pocket of his suit and threatening to fall out as he grabs your shirt. His reflexes are too fast to stop him, as he anticipates your movements before they truly happen. 
You stand there in your teeny vest top, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at any spot that isn't his face as he throws out your shirt and takes in the graphic design on the front. 
He looks between you and the shirt smiling like a fool. He laughs, and he tilts his head one way then the other before laughing again. 
“What's so funny?” you challenge. 
“Put this back on,” he says back, matching your demanding tone. “Right now.” 
“No way.” 
“Put it on! You're indecent. Here, I'll help.” 
It's not funny how quickly you lose, shrieking and pushing backwards into the shower as Peter tries to force your arms through the shirt. You laugh as he grabs you and he knows he can keep going, pushing the shirt over your head and his knee between your thighs, and suddenly you've got Spider-Man's emblem on your chest again, the end of the shirt bunched above your stomach. You're both breathless from the scuffle. He stares at your merch. 
“My eyes are up here.” 
“Shut up,” Peter says just as quickly, kissing you hard. A rough and short thing, the glove of his suit on your naked hip. You breathe out in a rush and kiss back, not feverish but getting there, never not happy to feel the seam of his lips parting against yours. He yanks back, “Is this–” 
You kiss him again before he can ask if it's alright. You like a good fight, and it's hard for him to make fun of you for the shirt when you're kissing. He kisses you long enough to make you dizzy, thumb under the hem of your embarrassing apparel. 
He brings his hand to his mouth to bite off his glove and hits the shower with his elbow, a rain of droplets falling from the head like shards of ice down the back of his neck. He pulls away, blinking, and you laugh at his misfortune tauntingly.
“Cold night in Queens?” you ask. 
He wipes at his neck. “Warm for you. You are never taking it off. Never.” 
“What, you like it?” you ask. 
“Just enough to chase you into the bathroom, yeah.” 
“Friendly neighbourhood pervert,” you say happily. 
He wipes his wet hand down your bare stomach. “And his number one fan.” 
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fingertipsmp3 · 6 months
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Bro should I be concerned that my knee is now repeatedly clicking when I walk
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