#talking to me is sometimes like pulling teeth

[buckysleftbicep]

letters through time (2) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: 1940s!bucky barnes x modern!reader

warnings: bucky being an absolute flirt, some angst

summary: you find a letter from 1944 hidden in the old brooklyn apartment you moved signed by one james buchanan barnes. you write back, he did too, and somehow, across decades, you both fall in love.

word count: 1.8k

author's note: chapter 2 is here!! i love this chapter so, so much and i hope you do too! thank you for stopping by my loves! i miss 40s!bucky so much.

series masterlist

It became a ritual.

Each morning, before brushing your teeth or even checking your phone, you opened the drawer.

Sometimes the letter was already waiting—tucked beneath the linen cloth like it had grown there overnight, the envelope still warm from some invisible warmth. Other times, you had to wait. Hours. A day. But it always came.

And with every letter, Bucky Barnes became less of a ghost and more of a person.

You learned the rhythm of his days. The sharp whistle that pulled him from his bunk before sunrise. The sound of boots slamming against pavement during drills. The warmth of the boys in his unit, the fear of the war hidden behind their jokes, the quiet way Steve carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without complaint.

You told him about your own days. The museum. The cataloging. How every box of artefacts made you feel like you were touching echoes of a time you now saw through his eyes.

You joked about your coffee addiction, the neighbour’s cat who acted like it owned the hallway, and the fact that you were talking to a man who was born before sliced bread became a thing.

He told you he found that hilarious.

March 19th, 1944 Sweetheart, You said people in the future are obsessed with their coffee, right? I’m starting to think I was born in the wrong era. But you wanna know the real reason I wake up smiling lately? It’s you. Your words. Your voice in my head when I read your letters. I never thought paper and ink could feel like a heartbeat. I asked Steve what he thinks about writing letters to a girl from the future. He laughed and told me if anyone could charm a girl, it’d be me. So. Here I am. Trying. Yours, Bucky

Somewhere between shared stories and inside jokes, your letters turned soft.

You told him about your favourite books. The first time you got your heart broken. That sometimes you felt a little lost, like you were floating through life without knowing where to land. You asked if he ever felt the same.

He did.

You asked what scared him most.

Not coming home. Forgetting who I am, maybe. Being forgotten. Losing people I love. Losing myself. Does that count?

You wrote back that of course it counts. That he wouldn’t be forgotten. Not by history. Not by you.

He sent a dried daisy once. Pressed between the pages of his letter. He picked it, he said, from a patch behind his barracks, just for you. It arrived crisp and pale, as if time hadn’t dared touch it.

You said you like soft things, doll. Thought you deserved something pretty. Hope the flower’s not too crushed, I’m better at shooting targets than pressing petals. I like thinking of you with something I held in my hands. Makes this whole crazy thing feel real. You feel real to me, (Y/N).

You read that line more times than you meant to.

And then one night, after a long shift at the museum and the kind of quiet that makes you feel a little too alone, you sat down at your desk with a pen in your hand and a question you weren’t sure you should ask.

You asked him for a photo.

It felt like you were crossing some invisible line. But the way your chest fluttered when you read his letters, the way your cheeks warmed at his teasing, it made you want to see him. Not the black-and-white image in a museum. Not the name in a textbook.

Him.

You folded the letter before you could change your mind and tucked in a polaroid, nothing dramatic. Just you in the corner of your room, soft light spilling across your face, your favourite sweater slipping off one shoulder as you smiled, small and uncertain, into the lens.

You slid it into the drawer and closed it gently. You didn’t expect anything to happen.

But the next morning, when you opened it again and there it was.

March 24th, 1944 Hey there, gorgeous. Is it allowed for a guy to be knocked breathless by a picture? ‘Cause I think I forgot how to breathe the second I saw you. You're beautiful, (Y/N). There’s this look in your eyes, like you already know me. Like you’ve been waiting for me. You asked for a photo, so I’m sending one. Just me, back behind base, jacket half-off because Steve said I look less like a “buttoned-up cadet” that way. Punk said I should look like the guy writing love letters to a girl in the future. He’s not wrong. Thought you should see the face that’s been stealing your time, sweetheart. Do I get another photo in return? Maybe one where you’re smiling that secret little smile you keep mentioning in your letters? Always yours, Bucky

You pressed the photo to your chest the moment you saw it.

He was handsome, of course, broad shoulders, a strong jaw, that soft curve of a smile. But it was his eyes that got you. Cerulean-blue and impossibly warm. Kind in a way photographs rarely captured. Like they weren’t just looking out, but looking at you. Through paper. Through time. Through everything.

You wrote back with shaking fingers and told him he wasn’t playing fair.

I don’t think you know what you’re doing to me, Bucky Barnes. Your letters make my heart race. And yes, I’ll send another picture. But only if you promise not to fall in love with me too fast. Kidding. (Sort of.) Yours always, (Y/N)

After that, the letters got flirtier.

You called him trouble. He called you trouble he’d gladly ruin himself for.

You teased him about the way he laced his boots after he sent a picture of himself leaning against a wall behind base, jacket slung over one shoulder, boots perfectly tied like he’d stepped out of a training manual.

You really lace them like that every day? you wrote back. No wonder Steve calls you a tightass. You joked after he had complained in the last letter about how Steve comments about his boots and how he laced them.

He replied that a man needed to be ready for anything. Especially if he was trying to impress a girl from the future.

He teased you in return about your obsession with peanut butter and how it came up in almost every letter, how he still couldn’t wrap his head around it being spread on toast.

Can’t wait to try it, he wrote, especially if you’re the one handing me the spoon.

You asked about his childhood.

He told you about Coney Island. Stealing candy from the corner store. Watching fireworks with Steve every Fourth of July. His first kiss at sixteen that made him laugh afterward because he sneezed mid-way through.

You told him about your favourite street vendor, how you always bought two hotdogs and left one for the homeless man at the subway entrance. You said it reminded you that kindness still existed in the world, even when everything felt overwhelming.

Bucky’s reply came back with a line that made your breath catch.

You're the kind of person I fought this war for. You make me believe there’s still good waiting for us on the other side.

You didn’t sleep that night. Not really.

Just reread the letters under your covers like a lovesick teenager. Smiling into your pillow. Laughing softly at his dumb jokes. Heart aching at his soft words. And slowly, slowly, something bloomed.

You were falling for Bucky.

A man eighty years out of reach. A soldier caught in the pages of history. And yet, the way he wrote to you… the way his words wrapped around your heart like warmth in the cold.

It felt real.

And terrifying.

But you didn’t stop writing.

One night, you asked him a dangerous question.

If we could meet one day, if somehow the world let us, what would you want to do first?

His answer came in the next letter, scribbled quickly, like he couldn’t get the words down fast enough.

I’d want to touch your face. Just to make sure you're real. Then I’d probably kiss you. Slow. Like I’ve been waiting lifetimes. We could walk through Brooklyn, hand in hand. You could show me the future, and I’d show you the places where I left pieces of myself. I don’t know how this happened, doll. But I think I’m falling for you. Hell. I know I am.

You pressed your fingers to your lips as you read, like it might soften the ache building in your chest.

He was falling for you.

And god help you because you were falling too.

March 28th, 2020 Dear Bucky, I find myself thinking about you all the time. When I pass old brick buildings. When jazz plays from passing bars. You’ve become a part of my days without me even realising it. I fall asleep thinking about your words. I wake up hoping for another letter from you. And when everything around me feels too loud, it’s your voice in my head that quiets it. There’s something about the way you write, the way you talk to me like I matter, that stays with me through my day. It lingers and it reminds me of the warmth left behind after a fire. I keep your daisy tucked in my favourite book, it's delicate and a little crushed, but I love it because it came from you, because you thought of me. Maybe this is fragile and maybe it’s impossible too. But it feels real. And I don’t want to let it go. I don’t know what this is, not exactly. But I know how I feel when I read your letters. And Bucky… I think I’m falling for you too. Yours, (Y/N)

The reply didn’t come the next morning.

Nor the day after that.

Your heart twisted with worry. Every moment without a letter felt like a thread unraveling from your chest. But then—on the third day, you opened the drawer and found an envelope.

Thicker than usual.

And when you unfolded the pages, your heart nearly burst.

March 31st, 1944 Sweetheart, I’m being deployed. Steve and I are heading to Austria. Orders just came in. We leave in a week. I didn’t want to tell you at first. Didn’t want to break what we’ve built. But I can’t lie to you, I don't want to. You asked what I’d do if I could meet you? Well, I’ve started asking around, talking to Howard. He’s the smartest guy I know. He thinks that maybe there’s a way. A way for me to get to you. He said he’d help me, when we make it back. So, I’m writing this with hope, (Y/N). Hope that when this war ends, when I’ve done what I have to do, I’ll find you. Please wait for me. Yours, always, James

James.

You clutched the letter to your chest, tears stinging your eyes.

You whispered his name like a prayer.

And wrote back with your heart in your throat.

taglist: @ndanddnd @darling-eos @alikkatz @creepybake

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Bob/Sentry X Reader: Two of a kind.

a/n: because let's face it Sentry is kind of hot.

Warnings: smut, rough sex, shifts between Bob and Sentry, Sentry himself is a warning, no use of y/n, soft ending, fingering, penetration (p in v), sexual content.

Word count: 2.7K

You're starving for him. As soon as you’d stepped into his room, the door blocking out the rest of the world, you’d let hunger take over. You're perched on his lap, hands grabbing onto his hair as you devour his mouth. Your grip on him is nearly feral. Your teeth clatter against his as your mouth tries to consume his soul through a kiss. And Bob lets you.

He’s gentler than you are, hands soft against your back. His mouth opens up to you so you can take what you like from him. He knows you need this, and he’s more than prepared to give it to you. Bob has always satisfied you. Sure, he was normally more gentle than you’d desire, but that never meant he didn’t give you what you were searching for. He just had a hard time keeping up with you sometimes.

You pull away from his lips to gasp for air. Not because you really needed the break, but because you were worried you were overwhelming him. Bob leaned down to kiss your neck as soon as you detached your lips from him. Your hips rolled against his lap as he continued to nip at your neck. You tugged at his hair as you let out a soft moan.

“Oh, Bob.”

The sound caused him to lift his lips slightly from your skin.

“Bob’s not here.”

You were so high in desire that it took you a while to realize what he’d said. Then you began to notice it—the shift in his breathing, the way his hands grabbed onto your ass roughly as he kissed your body, the feeling of his teeth scraping against your neck. All of his behavior was wild. Feral like yours. Not at all like Bob.

“Robert?”

The body beneath you hummed at the question.

“Better. But not quite right.”

You bit your lip as he gave a harsh suck just beneath your ear.

“Sentry.”

It was a breathy utterance of the name. It was almost as if you’d wanted to gasp it out, but instead your body opted to whine the sound.

“Now you got it.”

He moved off your neck, face coming into view. You stared into the golden orbs of his eyes, lips slightly parted. He shifted to claim your mouth, but you backed away.

“Why are you here?”

Sentry turned his head to the side. It wasn’t that he hadn’t understood you, but the fact that your question surprised him. He thought you’d be pleased to see him instead of Bob. It was clear from how you were acting that poor little Bob wouldn’t be able to handle your desire.

“Because you need me.”

You let out a small scoff, making his brows furrow.

“I don’t need you, Sentry. I want Bob.”

A small warmth filled his chest at your words. The feeling was not his. It was a manifestation of Bob somewhere inside him. Sentry stared at you for a moment, taking in your state. Your lips were swollen, pupils dilated, body clearly prepared to pounce. But all of that was not his doing. It was Bob’s. How very strange.

The truth was that Sentry had not taken control through force. Bob had let him come out. Because a small part of Bob knew that he wouldn’t be able to give you what you needed at the moment. But Sentry could.

“He let me out.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“Because he can’t handle you. Not like you want him to.”

He grabbed onto your hips roughly and you gasped.

“But I can.”

“You expect me to believe he gave you free rein? That you didn’t just bully him into hiding?”

Maybe your words should hurt him a bit, but Sentry understood where the hesitation came from. The last time he’d been out before you, things hadn’t gone too well.

“Just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean I'm lying.”

“So let me talk to him.”

You were impossible. Sentry sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the golden hue was gone from his eyes.

“Bob?”

You placed a palm on his cheek. He nuzzled into your touch.

“Let him do this.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Bob shushed you softly.

“I know you need it. And he’s right—I can't give it to you.”

“But I don’t want him. I want you, Bob.”

Bob gave you a small smile.

“I know that. But do it for me.”

And then, with those big puppy eyes, he added:

“Please.”

You sighed, placing a kiss on his lips before nodding your head. Bob closed his eyes, allowing Sentry to come back out. He gave you a smirk.

“Let's be clear about one thing. I love him. So you better not make him feel like shit because of this.”

Again you’d surprised Sentry. He opted to simply nod at you, hands settling back on your ass. Your breath sped up as he moved his face closer to yours. Your body was still coiled tight, hesitant because you didn’t want to hurt Bob by accident.

“Relax. He wants you to enjoy this.”

Sentry crashed his lips into yours. Your hunger responded immediately. You grabbed onto his hair, tugging the locks as he continued to devour your mouth. You ground your hips into him, causing a small huff to escape his mouth as you nudged against his growing bulge. You do it again, just to see what he’ll do. Sentry growls. It’s a low sound that comes from the back of his throat and vibrates through his chest. You feel yourself get wetter at the noise.

His hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into another slow grind against him. His lips break from yours only to trail down your jaw, his breath hot and uneven as he mouths at the corner of your neck. 

“You drive him crazy, you know that?” he mutters against your skin, voice deeper now, laced with something dark and raw. 

“He dreams of this. Of you. Of how wild you get when you think no one’s watching.”

You moan at his words, brain foggy with desire. Bob always was so quiet during sex. He’d only open his lips to let out soft sounds of praise or to beg you to keep going. But Sentry was different. You were starting to realize just how much. 

You shudder as he moves one hand between your bodies, sliding it up beneath your shirt, fingers grazing over bare skin like he’s memorizing every inch. He isn’t delicate. He touches you like you belong to him, like you were made to come apart in his hands. Your body shakes at the touch, hips moving unconsciously as you search for some sort of relief.

Sentry smirks at the action, his hand trailing down to your shorts. He swallows the moan that rips itself from your lips as his fingers finally find your folds. You're practically gushing around his fingers.

“This wet and I’ve barely done anything.”

“Not for you.”

“I’ll let you believe that.”

He slips one finger inside you and you keen, lips parting in a silent moan. Sentry could get used to this sight. But he doesn’t want to keep going like this.

He wants to see you beneath him.

His movements are so fast you barely register what's happening before you're on your back, a hand resting on his shoulder as he looks down at you. You stare up at him with wide eyes. Sentry gives you a wicked smile, teeth glinting in the dim light of the room as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“So pretty for us.”

“Fuck. Sentry, please, I—”

“What is it?”

“I need it. Please, just do something.”

He lifts himself off your body to tug off his shirt, revealing sculpted abs. Your fingers move to trace the muscle before he can stop you. He watches as your nails dig into his skin, his face twitching at the sensation. He’s already hard beneath his pants—courtesy of yours and Bob's heated makeout, but also because of his own desire for you.

Sentry's hands move to your bottoms, tugging them off with one forceful pull. Your fingers stop at his waistband, eyes lifting to meet his in silent request. He understands immediately, hands moving to strip off his own pants. As he does, you rise to a sitting position, pulling your shirt over your head.

The air between you hums with heat, thick and electric. Sentry watches you toss your shirt aside, eyes dragging over every inch of newly exposed skin like he’s starving for it.You barely have time to brace yourself before his hands are back on you—one gripping your thigh, the other cradling your jaw as he leans in. His lips crush against yours, all heat and hunger. His tongue parts your lips and dives in like he’s claiming territory. You respond in kind, fingers tangling in his hair again as your back arches instinctively into his chest. 

You can feel how hard he is now, pressed firmly between your legs, grinding into you with controlled pressure. It’s maddening. Not enough friction to satisfy—just enough to make your hips chase after every roll of his body. Your nails drag down his back as his lips move to your breasts, tongue lapping over the nipple as one of his hands moves to caress the other. 

You gasp as his mouth moves to your neck again, teeth grazing your pulse. He lingers there, sucking a mark into your skin that makes your breath catch. One of his hands slides up between your thighs, fingers brushing against you with maddening slowness.

“Sentry…” You breathe, unsure if you’re begging for more or just trying to hold yourself together.

“Tell me what you want.”

You’ve been trying so hard to think of Bob this whole time. But right now your body craves the man before you, who might share the face of your lover but who is another being entirely. You know Sentry won't give you what you want until you say what he wants to hear. Bob told you it was okay so you allow yourself the pleasure your body seeks so desperately. 

“I want you. Please Sentry.”

He smiles at you like he always knew you’d give in to him in the end. His hands continue to move inside you, adding one more finger to get you ready. You clutch onto his shoulder as he continues to finger you. As much as you enjoy the feeling it’s not what you want right now.

“More. Please, I need more.”

Sentry understands what you’re asking for. He pulls back just enough to rid himself of the last of his clothing, and then he’s on you again, all heat and pressure and urgency. He lines himself up, not pushing in yet—just resting there, letting the tension build. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, eyes wild with need. Then he snapped forward. The stretch steals the breath from your lungs. Your hands claw at his back, and he groans at the way your body welcomes him—tight, hot, pulsing around him like it’s exactly where he belongs.

He gives you a second to adjust, though it’s clear restraint is costing him. Your heels dig into his back, urging him forward.

“Sentry—move.”

The rhythm starts slow, grinding, dragging every ounce of friction possible with each thrust. But it doesn’t stay slow. It builds—your bodies crashing together, a tangle of limbs and sweat and soft cries echoing in the room. His hands roam like he can’t decide where to touch first—your hips, your breasts, your throat, your face.

“Mine.”

He growls it against your skin as he moves against you. You don’t deny it. You can’t. Because in this moment, it’s true.Your fingers dig into his back as he drives into you, your nails leaving red trails down the muscle. He groans at the sting, teeth catching your lower lip between thrusts. The pace is brutal now, relentless, and yet so perfectly controlled it has your head spinning.

“Sentry,” you gasp, voice wrecked and trembling. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, the words hot against your ear.  “You’re going to fall apart for me. I want to feel it. All of it.”

His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive spot with maddening precision. The pressure has your thighs trembling around him. He watches you unravel beneath him, eyes hungry, obsessed.

“You’re so close, I can feel it.”

You whimper as he shifts slightly, changing the angle just enough to have your body clenching around him like a vice.

“Oh God—” you cry out, the pleasure almost unbearable.

He doesn’t stop.

Your body writhes under his, chasing the peak you’re teetering on. His name falls from your lips in broken fragments. Not Bob’s. His. And something in that—something in hearing you want him like this—snaps what little restraint he has left. He starts to lose the rhythm, hips stuttering as the need overwhelms him, primal and raw. His forehead presses to yours, sweat-slick and shaking.

“You feel what you do to me? How tight you are—how perfect—fuck, I—”

You can barely hear him over the rush in your ears, every nerve on fire as the wave crashes into you, stealing your breath, your thoughts, everything. You cry out his name, fingers gripping him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Sentry groans, a deep, guttural sound that rumbles through his chest as he drives into you one final time. You feel him twitch inside you, warmth flooding your core as he lets go completely, face buried in the crook of your neck as his body shudders with release.

He sags into you, his body weight falling onto yours. The room is silent for a moment, both of you breathing raggedly as you try to recover. After a moment, he pulls out of you, opting to lay beside you. You open your eyes as you feel him settle into the spot next to you. You turn your head to look at him. He’s watching you already—his golden eyes a little softer, still glowing, but less wild now. If it weren’t for the golden hue in his irises, you could almost mistake him for Bob.

Your body shifts so that you’re lying on your side, facing him directly. Sentry mirrors your movements. The two of you just look at each other for a while, neither one knowing what to say. Then, because it was something you were used to doing to Bob, your hand moves to rest on Sentry’s cheek. Bob would have closed his eyes at the action, but Sentry just keeps staring at you.

“You really love him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

He lets out a small sound of understanding. You continue to run your thumb over his cheek as you contemplate whether you should say what you're thinking. Before you can convince yourself to stay quiet, the words slip from your lips.

“I think I could love you too.”

Sentry continues to stare at you. You take a small breath in.

“If that was something you’d want, I mean.”

Sentry moves to tug your hand off his cheek, opting to hold it in his own instead. His eyes trail over your palm as his fingers caress it. Without looking at you, he says:

“I’ll think about it.”

You give him a small smile, even though he isn't looking at your face. Your body feels exhausted, and before you know it, you’re lulled into sleep, Sentry’s hand never letting go of yours.

The next morning, you wake up with an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a hum as Bob’s nose nuzzles into your neck. You don’t have to look into his eyes to know it’s him. The way he holds onto you is enough to make it clear.

“Morning, Bob.”

“Good morning, pretty. You okay?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

Bob nods against your skin, his hands making small circles against your stomach. The room is filled with a comfortable silence.

“He’ll take you up on your offer.” 

[astraljedi]

Teeth (Joaquin Torres)

Summary: Everyone’s focused on the game, eyes glued to the TV—but all you want is your boyfriend’s attention and his thick, muscular thighs.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), public teasing, semi-public sex, light dominance, dirty talk, strong language, possessive behavior, explicit language.

Word Count: 1.3K

Song: Teeth by 5SOS

This one is for you @saintbusan 🫶🏻

- Fight so dirty, but you love so sweet Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

It hasn’t even been two hours since the game started, and the bar is loud—packed with people in jerseys, every flat screen tuned into the second quarter. But honestly? I couldn’t care less about the game.

I stroke Joaquin’s forearm as I stand between his legs, his hand resting lazily on my waist, keeping me close in the crowded room.

His eyes are on the screen, sometimes turning to talk to one of his friends—but I want all of his attention. I press my back against his chest, my hand sliding from his arm down to his thigh, the dark denim tight against his muscles. I squeeze, rubbing myself subtly against him. The hand on my waist tenses and Joaquin pinches my side, a wordless warning. 

I fight back a smile. I’ve got him exactly where I want him. 

I glance around—no one’s watching us. All eyes are glued to the game, and I can focus on getting what I want. 

My fingers trail upward, grazing the growing outline of him through his jeans. He exhales sharply, chin dropping to rest on my shoulder and the heat of his breath brushes over my neck.

“¿Qué tipo de juego estás buscando?” he murmurs, lips so close I feel his teeth graze my earlobe. I almost shutter, his voice alone, that low rumble, could send me over edge anytime. 

I close my eyes, reaching for his arms, and pull them tight around my waist. I need his weight, his heat—need him to ground the ache that’s been building up all night. 

It's the small gestures that do it for me. How he cares, never batting an eye for what I need. How he would guide me through a busy crowd. The way he cages me with his body, chest pressed on my back, a hand remains on my waist while he orders his beer and my drink of choice from memory. 

How he can’t stand not having me wrapped around him. It doesn’t matter if his eyes are glued to the tv or locked in conversation–he has a sixth sense for me alone.

“I need you,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I rock my hips back into his. 

He groans into my ear and then spins me around. I catch a glimpse of his dark eyes, full of lust and the need for control over me. My insides spin excitedly for him, for the game catching between us. 

I nearly whimper at the loss of his body, but he stands, hands firm on my waist, lowering his head to whisper, “Wait for me in the bathroom.”

He presses what looks like a sweet kiss to my temple, nothing suspicious to anyone nearby but I know what’s about to happen isn’t innocent. His hand skims over the curve of my ass, grabbing a cheek in his palm, squeezing hard enough to make me bite my lip.

It takes every ounce of control in me not to moan and let the whole bar know how good this man makes me feel. 

I grab my purse from the sticky counter, excuse myself to my friends, and just as I step away, he smacks my ass—playful but hunting with a predador need. 

I glance back at him, he’s leaning over the bar, chugging the last of his beer. A drip of gold slides from the corner of his mouth, but his tongue catches it before it escapes. He catches sight of me, he doesn’t move from his place but throws me a wink before slamming the glass bottle on the counter. 

God, this man is going to ruin me and I’ll take it. I’ll beg for more.  

I slip into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I lean against the sink, my heart hammering and hands trembling with anticipation. 

Not even a minute, but what feels like eternity, there’s a soft knock and I yank the door open. I pull Joaquin from the collar of his jersey, he closes the door and locks it behind him. 

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss, my fingers already tangled in his curls. His knee nudges between my legs, and he glides me forward, grinding my hips down onto his thick thigh. 

I think I have him. My hand tries to unbuckle his jeans, thinking I’m in control but he grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs, breaking the kiss and pulling a moan from my throat.

“Does my girl need to come so bad she has to grind on me in front of all our friends?” he growls against my neck, teeth grazing my skin. “I’m gonna let you come, but you’re gonna work for it, baby. I’m not helping.”

Joaquin pushes his thigh hard against my aching core and I nod, desperately. 

“You’re going to ride my thigh and make yourself come. You have until halftime ends.”

He shoves one strap of my top off my shoulder, exposing my breast to the cool air. I start moving, grinding my hips over his thigh, my jeans add just enough friction to make me gasp.

His palm cups my breast and he bites the skin on my neck. I rock my hips faster and the coil inside me hums vividly, straining for that sweet release. 

My hand clutches his shoulder as I circle my hips, my head falling back from the overwhelming pleasure of his rough hands on my breast and his lazy kiss against my burning skin. 

“Fuck, Joaquin,” I moan pathetically, sweat already beading at my temples.

He chuckles darkly, fingers tweaking my nipple until I cry out. Then he yanks me into another kiss—sloppy, messy, desperate. His tongue slides between my lips as my rhythm falters, my legs aching already from the position. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for me” He encourages, smirking. 

He throws his head back against the door, watching me with that dark, hungry look. His hands land on my hips, but he doesn’t move me—just holds me still, making me do all the work.

A needy whine escapes me. I want his mouth, his hands, everything. 

“Joaquin,” I beg, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

“You started this game. You finish it.” His grip tightens, holding himself back from giving me what I want–what I need. “You’re so greedy, asking for more when you were the one grinding against me. Isn't this what you wanted?” 

I rock harder, chasing the sweet chase of my orgasm. The coil snaps suddenly and I fall forward, forehead resting on his shoulder as I come hard, my thighs squeezing around him. My body trembles through it and my chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.

My sight blurs, my ears ring and my body spasms as Joaquin removes his thigh in a teasing pace. 

He forces me upright, one hand soothing over my back, the other still locked on my hip. “That’s my good girl.”

His hand lands on my neck, a firm grip as he drags his lips over mine, deepening the kiss. And just as I reach for more, he leaves me gasping and wrecked.

“As much as I’d like the whole bar—fuck, the whole country—to know only I can make you come this hard from just this,” he says, readjusting himself like nothing just happened, “I also want to keep this perfect image of you, coming on my thigh alone, all to myself.”

 “If you behave for the rest of the game, I’ll let you come over and over again once we get home until you have me begging to stop.”

Joaquin runs his eyes all over me, so pleased with himself and then he walks out—leaving me a panting mess in the bathroom, clinging to the sink until I can trust my body to move without trembling. 

I need to ride his thighs again.

[starfckerxs]

shh...; b.e.

smut... part 1: oops

a while later, long into the afternoon -nearing the evening- you and billie were laying about on her hotel room's sofa. it was a relaxing activity the both of you often participated in. just talking about anything and everything in the world, learning more and more about each other and their insights on the world. it was nice, just to be alone with her, the two of you. it was always nice.

billie was lying down on her back, looking up at the high ceiling while you laid between her legs, head resting on her torso as you also face the ceiling.

"oh, i've also been writing recently" billie spoke up, hands fidgeting with your hair.

you perked up at her words, looking intrigued and excited."wa-... really?"

billie smiled at your reaction. she'd always loved how much you loved her music, always curious about any update she had. it was cute. "yeah, but it's all scrap anyway" she said, sighing.

you frowned deeply, sitting up to turn around and look at her. "bullshit" you shook your head "anything you or finneas write is saint" you poked her arm "show me some sometime, yeah? I'd love to see all that 'scrap'" you said the last word with a roll of your eyes.

billie looked up at you with a small, soft smile on her lips, anyone from a thousand kilometers away could see her love for you blooming and glowing bright in her icy blue eyes. "mm'kay" she nodded, reaching out to sort out your hair, arranging some stray strands away from your eyes. there was a long, comfortable moment of silence in which you both stared into each other's eyes, letting out soft breaths before billie spoke once more.

"do you think..." she started, trailing her finger down your arm. "that it would be too suspicious to write something about you?" her eyes looked into yours again, filled with a kind of uncertainness and worry.

you thought for a second, not minding the way her hand travelled lower, trailing over your stomach and torso. "i mean... it could be tricky but," you took at deep breath "i don't think anyone would be suspicious. "LUNCH" wasn't taken like that, maybe at first but then everyone just accepted that your gay ass just wrote a song about lesbian cunnilingus. "

a small laugh broke from billie's once closed mouth, shaking her head as she rested both her hands on your thighs now that you've moved to straddle her hips. "yeah, i guess you're right" she hummed softly. "but I want something... sweet this time" she said softly, looking up at you. her words made you smile.

"no one is stopping you" you said softly, placing a hand over hers.

billie hummed again, her thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones as she nodded her head and another moment of silence followed. her hands rubbing up and down your thighs, eyes following her own movements before she stopped. she brought her hands up to your hips, holding them firmly as she looked up at you.

"I need you, baby" she murmured, shifting your hips with a pull of her hands.

a small gasp left your lips at the sudden change of atmosphere, eyes meeting hers. you could see the dark lust and hunger in them, mixing with soft love and bright need. God, you loved when she was needy.

her fingers found the waistband of your sweatpants, dipping in slightly before pulling on it then letting go, letting it snap against your skin. your teeth dug into your bottom lip, arousal gathering in the bottom of your belly.

"i'm here, bils, all yours" you mumbled, placing your hands over hers and locking eyes with hers.

billie took a deep breath at your touch, obviously trying to maintain some self-control. she mirrored your expression, cheeks flushing and teeth digging into her lip.

"strip for me, sweetheart"

you never needed to be asked twice, you were off of her in a second, standing next to her on the sofa as you slowly began removing your sweatpants, moving them down in a slightly teasing manner which earned you a soft huff and a glare. you couldn't help it, you enjoyed your needy girlfriend way too much. the pants soon hit the floor and you stepped out of them, watching as billie's eyes traced your exposed legs, she loved every curve and mark on you, every inch.

next, you took off your hoodie which had nothing underneath, letting it fall to the ground with a soft thud. billie's gaze immediately raised to your chest, her lips parting as she took in your bare breasts. while she was staring, you quickly discarded your underwear, tossing the wet fabric aside, now standing in front of her in all your naked glory.

billie sat up, patting her left leg as a silent command which you obeyed. you were now sat on her leg, her clothed thigh nestled neatly between your legs, pressing against your clit in the most delicious way. her left hand rested on your hip.

"God, you look beautiful "she whispered gently, running her other hand up your bare body, cupping your soft breast into the palm of her hand, giving it a quick squeeze before gently massaging it, only pulling her hand back to roll your erect nipples between her fingers, the taste of pure satisfaction setting in the back of her throat as she heard all the needy, soft sounds that left you, oh the subtle grind of your hips against her thigh was driving her absolutely mad.

her hand dropped back down to your thigh, stroking it softly as she looked up to look at your flustered face with a small smirk. "you're so cute... so fucking desperate" her voice was husky and raw, a sexy rasp following each word that left her lips.

her words sent a jolt of electricity through you, going straight to your core. billie's hand moved up your thigh, reaching your needy pussy. one of her fingers ran up your wet slit, pressing against your aching clit for a moment before it slipped lower, brushing against your needy hole. "mmm, you're so wet" she hummed softly before she pushed her finger inside you.

you let out a small gasp, eyes snapping up to meet hers as her finger went as deep as it could, causing your gummy walls to squeeze it tightly. billie held eye contact, lust-dark hooded eyes looking into you as she added another finger, curing them inside you.

"fuck--... billie" you moaned breathlessly, fighting to keep your eyes open as you grinding into her fingers, the heel of her palm pressing against your clit.

"hmm? does that feel good, baby?" she murmured sweetly, moving her fingers at an agonizingly slow pace.

you nodded your head, whining when her free hand moved to stop the grinding of your hips. "more... please, billie" you begged her, needy and aching for more. more of her touch. more of her.

she couldn't help but give in, she needed to see you fall apart at her touch. she added a third finger, the moan which left your lips making her own pussy throb and soak her underwear as she moved her digits in and out at an increasingly fast pace. "is that better?" she purred, then she felt your hands on her shoulders, pulling her closer as you practically rode her fingers, head thrown back as moans left your lips one after the other.

"mm, fuck, yes" you whimpered, eyes rolling back when she hit your g-spot, rolling your hips to try and repeat the action. billie's eyes watched as you desperately rode her fingers, the lewd sounds of your movements only spurring her on as she moved her fingers in time with your hips' movements. "Oh-.. shit, shit" your moans grew louder, feeling your climax approach as your hands gripped her shoulders tighter, gripping the shirt she still had on."billie-.."

"are you close, sweetheart? you wanna cum f'me?" she mumble, turning her head to look up into your blissful eyes. her left hand reached up, cupping your chin and pushing her thumb into your open mouth. obviously, she didn't want any other hotel attendants to hear you.

you nodded your head eagerly, closing your lips around the single digit resting on your tongue. the air between the two of you was charge and thick, filled with your moans and billie's heavy breaths as you neared your orgasm. your hips moved fast, driving her fingers deep inside your own wet heat with an intense frevo.

"do it, baby, cum for me"

her words were the last thing you heard before a ringing sound filled your ears, vision going white as you bite down on her thumb in your mouth, your orgasm crashing over you harshly as your hips stuttered and your whole body shook with pleasure. "ah-..mmh, fuck" you whimpered softly as you came down and billie removed her thumb from your mouth, not minding the bite marks on her skin as she pulled her other fingers out of your clenching pussy, licking them off while her other hand stroked your thigh to help you calm down your racing heart.

"you did so good, darling, such a good girl"

for a couple of beats, there was no movement, the only sound was that of her and your breathing before her hands ran up your bare back, tilting her head to look up at you with the same need still evident in her eyes.

"I wanna fuck you, babe" she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your collarbone. "I brought a strap" she whispered into your ear and the words sent a shiver down your spine, your own arousal spiking.

"yes, please"

a grin covered billie's face and she gently pushed you off her. "lie down, on your back for me" you obeyed, lying down on the couch as she went to get the strap.

when she came back, she was stripped naked, the harness around her hips and the silicone cock hanging from it as she climbed onto the couch between your legs, spreading them.

"mmm, look at you" she murmured under her breath, it barely reached your ears. then her hand reached down, running her fingers through your wet folds with a soft hum. you squirmed under her touch, looking up at her desperately. "s'pretty..." she whispered softly before pulling her hand back, reaching up and putting her two fingers to your lips while her other hand nudged the tip of her cock against your fluttering hole.

"open up, pretty girl" her voice sent a shot of arousal through you, and you didn't even hesitate before parting your lips, letting her fingers invade your mouth and rest on your tongue. "good girl" billie smiled and in a fleeting second, her strap was inside you, stretching you out to a dangerous extent. you moaned around her fingers, feeling your pussy throb when she kept still.

she chuckled darkly at your needy whine, pushing her fingers deeper into your mouth and down your throat, not caring about the saliva dripping down your chin and her palm. "mm, you want me to move? is that what you want, baby?"

you nodded frantically, trying to move your hips, up-down, left-right —any direction just to feel her more.

"alright, alright" she pulled her fingers out of your mouth and wiped them on your cheek before gripping your hips with both her hands, starting to thrust slowly, watching your every move. she saw your eyes flutter, your breath hitch and your bottom lip being pulled between your teeth as the ridges of her cock dragged against your sensitive walls, slowly agonizingly, letting you feel every inch and vein on the silicone. but it wasn't enough, you needed more.

"pl–...please, bils–...i- mhg–.. I need more. please" you managed to get out, already a babbling mess.

"yeah?" she hummed, eyes wide and pupils blown as she took in your body, covered in a sheen of sweat as your abdominal muscles tense with each one of her thrusts. "alright, baby, since you've been such a good girl" she moved her hands to your sides, her nails digging into your flesh and before you could even process her words, she pulled her hips back, all the way so that only the tip of her cock stayed inside you before slamming them forward sharply.

a loud gasp followed by a choked-off cry came from your throat, your hand reaching out to grap anything as she pounded into your needy pussy. you eyes rolled to the back of your head as the head of the strap hits your g-spot repeatedly, her soft grunts and gasps of effort — and pleasure, solely because she loved seeing you like this — reaching your ears, making the arousal in the pit of your stomach burn.

"is this how you like it?" she leaned down, lips right next to your ear, but her pace never falters. "like when I fuck you like this, hm? when I pound this pretty pussy until it's red and swollen?"

you moaned uncontrollably at all the sensations running through your body at that moment. "yes! yes–...yes, I fucking love it, bils"

"good" she murmured lowly, her thrusts growing harsher as she angled her hips to hit that spongey spot inside you repeatedly again. her lips trailed over the collum of your throat, sucking, licking, biting before they were on your chest, taking an erect nipple between them and flicking the hardened nub with her tongue.

you whined at the overwhelming sensations, hands gripping her hair m. "i-..I'm s'close, fuck" you gasp out loudly, your untouched clit thropping each time billie's pelvis touches it for a brief moment.

"yeah? gonna cum f'me, pretty girl?" she asked after she pulled away from your nipple with a lewd pop, already aiming for the other. you nodded your head in a dazed state. she pulled back, one of her hands attaching itself to your throat. "do it then, let go for me"

"shit-...shit, shit" you cursed, the knot inside you snapping so suddenly as your body stilled, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as your hands wrapped around billie’s wrist of the hand which was holding your throat.

you felt her thrusts slow and not long after they stopped. her hand pulled back from your throat and cupped your cheek. "baby? how y'doin'?"

you took a deep breath, opening your eyes with a shaky smile. "that was so good, god"

"yeah?" billie chuckled and stroked the soft skin of your cheek before she pulled her hand back, placing it on the low of your stomach soothingly "I'm gonna pull out now, 'kay?" you nodded and felt her pull back, the silicone cock leaving your tight hole with a wet sound.

"mm, you did so good" she murmured, dropping the harness and strap to the hotelroom floor and leaning her body on top of yours.

but the moment of the sweet afterglow was cut short as a loud banging sound came from the room's door. billie cursed to herself as she quickly got off you, throwing on a shirt and underwear as she went to the door, opening it only to be met with the wide blues of her brother's eyes.

"what the fuck, billie? the whole hallway echoed from you two!"

her mouth fell agape as she glanced towards you to the couch. she swallowed hard and looked back at him. "uhm... surprise?"

[purinfelix]

i look better in the dark - n. riki⋆.˚ ♱

summary: every night he chooses you, over the cold silence he's known for centuries - and every time he does, he knows it'll be harder to let you go ───────── vampire!ni-ki x human!reader || just vampire immortality angst, soft in places and sad in others || w/c: 970

a/n: as cute and fun as fluff is to write ... angst feels like the easiest thing for me to work on like i literally wrote this in one sitting after seeing niki talk in the recent behind the scenes about "why it's good to have a vampire bf" LOL ... anyways hope my niki readers like this one cus ive lowk felt my obsession for him growing lately so expect lots more <333 + extra shoutout to everyone on my taglists!! love u all

Niki has a decision to make.

Usually, he's good at that - his whole life, he's been swift, decisive, the complete opposite of an overthinker. Shopping is simple for him because as soon as he tries something on, he's able to decide whether he wants it. Waiters love that he never deliberates on what to order, and he's eaten the same ice cream flavour for as long as he can remember. He knows what he likes, and he's incredibly quick at weighing up options, even when it comes to making decisions that have larger stakes in life.

But now, he struggles.

Struggles every time he wakes up before you, and watches through half-lidded eyes as you bury yourself into him, clinging to the warmth that you've convinced yourself he has, even in your sleep. Struggles when you look at him with those round eyes, asking him to help you grab something from a taller shelf or to hold your bag for you. Struggles whenever you talk to him about your futures together, your plans for an anniversary, for your wedding, and what your children's names will be like.

It's a struggle that he's never had to deal with before, one that makes his heart ache unbearably and makes it almost impossible for him to keep up with your enthusiasm, as endearing as he finds it.

He struggles to decide whether to give in to you.

Or more so, whether to give in to this silly little thing he's let himself fall into, to which you seem to be his partner in crime. Not because there's any question about the way he feels about you, no, there hasn't been a doubt since the moment he laid eyes on you that you were something special to him. Rather, it's this very fact that makes him hesitate, because he's worried about the consequences that may come if he does.

You don't make it any easier either, by being so adorably and blissfully ignorant. You never question why he prefers going out on dinner dates over meeting in the daytime, or why he eats so little when you do. You weren't phased by the fact that there wasn't a single mirror in his apartment, just bare walls and dim lighting, as if reflections were something he'd long stopped expecting. The things you do notice - how deathly cold his hands are all the time, or how unnaturally sharp some of his teeth are, you brush off as nothing but personal traits, sometimes even finding them cute.

He knows he shouldn't have let it get this far, knows he should've looked away when you caught his eye. Should've pulled away the first time you kissed him like you meant it. The first time you looked at him like he was your whole future, knowing that you would only be a tiny fraction of his.

But you were warm, and sweet, and so, so kind to him. And he was lonely, and desperate, and couldn't remember the last time, if ever, his heart had felt this way.

So he let you in, just a little, figuring he had the control to know when to push you back out.

But now you're everywhere. In his bed, in his clothes, in almost every waking thought. You're in his fridge, stocking snacks for him that he never eats, in his phone, you're in his arms, buried into his chest - and it physically hurts him seeing how unguarded you've let yourself become around him.

He's considered telling you, of course, but the millions of possibilities that play out in his head, like flowers blooming on the stretching branches of some wretched tree, stop him each time - each one more unbearable than the last.

In one, you flinch away from his freezing touch, eyes welling with tears. In another, you stare at him with terror, like he's a monster, ready to run away.

But in the most terrifying one, the one that keeps him up to the early hours of the morning, you stay. You look at him with those same soft eyes and whisper with a sweet smile about how you accept him, and beg him to make you like him. To put the same curse on you that he's shouldered in isolated silence for centuries.

And what terrifies him the most is that he doesn't know if he'll be strong enough to say no, not to that, not to you.

It would be so easy to give in, to let you follow him into the dark and believe that, for just a second, living with you forever would be the right thing to do - that maybe this curse would be bearable if it was with you. Because he's seen empires fall, cities turn to dust - and none of it ever felt as fragile as your hand in his, or the way you silently brush his hair out of his eyes.

But he knows better, being alive for this long has helped him see that. He knows the silence, the endless hunger, the insatiable desire that lurks within him - and he knows you well enough to know you don't deserve to have to put up with that, to belong in that darkness.

You belong in the sunlight, with the other things that grow and bloom and bring smiles to people's faces. And yet, he stays. Another night, another seamlessly conjured excuse, another kiss he shouldn't take but knows is far from the last.

He has a decision to make, but every night he spends beside you, he loses a little more of his strength to make it. So he lets himself have this, just this, your soft breathing against his chest, your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

A fleeting, fragile thing that he has no right to hold, but holds anyways.

taglist for niki fics! - @miniw0nz @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @charsworld96 @jenjnk @nocturnebite @nodoubtily

[616ioi]

❛ #GLINT! MOB PSYCHO 100.

────────── cry for me .ᐟ.ᐟ

⤿ pairings. reigen arataka x gn reader

⤿ contents. sub character, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, this used to be another character but i changed it to this lovely chimpanzee. this contains mature content, read at your own discretion.

⤿ thoughts. IM GONNA DESTROY HIS HAIRY MANLY GLORY BOX GET HIM AWAY FROM ME

Contrary to that laid-back, always prepared and witty demeanor, reigen can't let go. He holds his head up high, all while disregarding his own emotions. But you're so patient and so understanding with him.

It's surprising that you're still around, not that he's complaining. Sometimes, he wishes you'd hurt him so he can feel worthy of the love you give. The worst he can get as punishment out of you is silence.

But those rare times when he's on his best (read: better than usual) behavior, he gets to ask for anything.

He looked up at you through his lashes, a brow raised as if he was daring you to do something. His chest moved up and down harder as he squirmed around in his sweats, the bulge an obvious sign of what he wants.

He knows you want him to say it. He nearly scrunches his hair up in humiliation.

No way.

Your fingers tease him by running down his body, feathering over his v-line and tracing the imprint in his pants.

"H-hey." He glares weakly at your hands, his hips bucking up in the air as if it will it to move. "If-if you don't stop.. I'll leave..."

As if. Reigen thinks that if you stop, he'll go crazy.

You smile, cooing upon seeing his blown opened pupils, you could barely even see the beautiful brown color of them. His eyes widen when you palm him through his sweats, his body going red from the impact. "Look at the state of you.. you don't want me to stop-"

You push his shirt past his chest and he quickly gets the hint to hold it up for you, wrinkling the hem so tightly within his hold.

His pathetic attempt to shut down this allegation quickly died down when his eyes meet yours. The look you're giving him makes him shudder with pleasure.

Like you adore him.

You look so pretty kneeling in between his knees, his pants sporting a bigger pool of his precum as he twitches in them.

"-Right?" You mumbled with a tilt of your head.

He lets go of his shirt and runs his shaky hands down his stomach, no longer being able to stand this teasing. A groan is ripped out of his throat as you lightly grip onto his wrist and pull them away, pining them down on either side of his body.

You release his wrist and give him a pointed stare. "Keep still, rei'."

He could really only focus on your eyes. those pretty, gentle eyes of yours - looking at him like he's a god, someone to respect. He practically melts when your warm hand runs up his inner thigh to his hips, purposely avoiding his bulge.

You pull the band of his sweatpants back before watching them snap back in place. He jolts, timidly bucking into his pants and, in his way, your shirt, adding onto his desperation.

You lean down to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down his plushy stomach. His leg tenses and twitches, hands trembling so much he has to ball them up so you don't notice (a little too late, honestly), "I promise I'll make you feel so good."

Oh god, how he wants wants to be good. Just for tonight, only for you, just you.

So, he puts down his pride for just a couple of worthless seconds and swallows nervously.

"Touch me," He whispers, blood rushing down his nape. "...please."

"What's that?" You hum. Reigen grits his teeth, you know exactly what he's talking about. You're not dumb and surely, as far as he's aware, not deaf.

But he doesn't want to loose this.

A shiver runs down his spine, "touch me all over."

A trembling hand of his reaches down to lightly graze his boner, jumping at the contact. "Here [name], please."

He ignores the grin on your face and opts to place his hand back in place beside of him, taking ahold of the thin sheet underneath him.

He won.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't this - his body stiffening and shaking like a leaf by your touch as you forced him to at least try to stay still.

You were denying him his right to come!

"Look at me," you grip his jaw in your hand. He's almost tempted to gasp in shock, "Don't take your eyes off of me."

You remove your hand and return it back to his chest, which is heaving rapidly, up and down, his breathing out of his control. While he isn't loud, his body says all he can't say. Filthy things he would never vocalize.

"Don't you like me, reigen?" he gives a weak nod, his tongue peaking out to lick and nip at his lips. You're sure he mumbled something along the lines 'love you s'much', but his rambling became incoherent at this point. "So look at me.."

His eye lids flutter shut without meaning to. His body fails to listen to his commands.

"Look at me, or i'll stop." You nearly prove your threat when he takes a second too long to respond. Your hold on him slowly loosening, until reigen quickly recovered to meet your eye.

"I'm looking!" he grunts out in a whiny tone, drawn out and breathy moans escaping him. "M'looking, okay?!"

"[Name]-" he tried calling out, except it came out as a broken and barely audible whimper. He tried again but got the same result as the last. His head was lolling to the side, fingers gripping the sheets with all his might.

You let this slide for the moment.

"[Na-], [name]!" he panted out, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head as his eyelids close shut. White blinded his vision, it's as if he's going blind!

He hears a laugh from you. You're so close yet you sound so far away, muffled. You click your tongue softly, "aw, you can't even say my name properly!"

His body convulses with pleasure, and it worries you a bit when you spot his knuckles turning white from his grip on the sheet. His veins were practically popping out!

"Want me to slow down?" You muttered softly, tracing your name on his skin as if marking him. The thought only spurred him on.

"Uh-huh.." he fights back weakly, his hips twitching, faster and deeper into your warm hand contradict his argument.

You smile at his cute antics and take his hand within your grasp. It's warm and clammy and you don't care when he starts gripping on it like its his lifeline.

"My pretty boy," Reigen mewls, his orange bangs, are sweaty and stuck to his forehead. He couldn't hold back his whine when you flick your wrist, thumbing his leaking slit.

He wants to cum.

He sniffles, nose red, his pretty eyes staring into yours with a shy look. He's gonna cry...

Cry, cry, cry.

You prayed, squeezing your thighs together as his eyes water.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Reigen begged with himself, unfortuantly, once he starts crying, he won't be able to stop.

His lips threaten to tremble.

"It's okay," reigen lets out a heavy breath of air. It almost sounds like a sob. "Let it out."

He thinks you're talking about his need to come. but when he takes notice of the small crazed glint in your eye, his own practically ends up having heart shapes in his.

He loves it.

Before he realized, tears had leaked out from his eyes and his flushed face. A sob tumbling past his red and swollen lips as you reach down to touch yourself over your clothes at the sight. He's crying!

"So pretty," you slur out, quickening your pace around him. "Love seeing you like this."

Reigen's shoulders quiver as he curls into himself, a series of 'ah, ahn, nngh's following. His hips loosing their fast paced rythmn and weakly bucking up as he decides to let you do the rest of the work.

He twists and turns, chest heaving and stuttering as silent cries leave him. He's having trouble breathing -

He's gonna die.

He really is gonna die.

Oh my god!

Just as he was on the verge of orgasm you pull away, hand going back on him only to give him a light pat on the head as if he was your dog.

Huh?

This causes his breath to quicken, frustration and desperation being thrown in the mix of his frustrated sobs.

His heart drops when you stand up to get ready for his aftercare. you still look down at his shaking figure with adoration, but the difference now is that he's staring up at your looming figure as if you were the god now.

His only religion.

"You should've kept your eyes on me."

[xelasrecords]

Entry to Hell

Sylus x MC

A recollection of events that lead to Sylus’s demise in the antimatter glass chamber, told from MC’s point of view.

TW: death

Words: 1.5k

Masterlist | Read on AO3

In this entry, I shall recount the final moments of the fallen leader of Onychinus, Sylus Qin. I have held back in fear that his story would fall into the wrong hands and warp him into a greater demon, but it has happened nevertheless.

This record will not be entirely truthful and I will not apologise. Some things should remain unsaid. You don’t deserve the dignity of the complete truth.

I will speak in the present tense for Sylus’s soul is always present in me. Where I go, he goes. But where he is now, I cannot follow.

When Sylus is tortured, I feel the torture with him.

That is the first lie. I wish it were not. Sylus’s whereabouts were unknown to me until he swooped me away from the carnage. For once, he had no desire to savour a bloodbath. You have painted his zone with my blood.

He puts me above everything. Your city can burn to ashes, we don’t care. But then you harmed me. He cares about this a lot. You stoked the fury in him and greedily I feed his hunger for vengeance.

Sylus ascends high above the ground, his right eye pulsing red in the dark. The sky is inked with the black-scarlet mist unfurling from his entire being. He banishes you to the abyss that you can’t crawl back from no matter your effort. Weapons and souls vaporised. Putrid souls are not worth consuming.

You don’t know how it feels to raze a legion of foes to the ground. You don’t have such power. I am still standing.

Sylus is invincible. Sylus is immortal. Sylus lives forevermore unless my hand wills it.

This I want to be a lie, but you already discovered the truth before I had the chance to pull the gossamer over your eyes.

I did not will it. Let me be clear on that. You forced my hand and mixed our blood together. Mine and his. Don’t damn me for conspiring with the demon when you were the one who pushed me into his arms.

His embrace is the warmest place I have ever existed in.

When I was young, I used to own a miniature of a dragon encased in a glass jar, spewing frozen fireballs from its mouth. Its teeth, I remember, could jab through flesh.

It wasn’t a toy for children. Someone I lived with realised this soon after and discarded it for my safety. You have also robbed him from me.

Sylus trapped in this antimatter glass chamber is reminding me so much of my dragon, but you have chiselled his teeth and claws to bluntness. Depleting his power and leaving him paralysed. How dare you. He does not take the appearance of a dragon, but he can ravage your soul like one. A cunning, savage fiend who cares for no one but his empire. Isn’t that what you all say about him?

But you overlooked the paradox. A savage creature possesses no intellect; what you’re thinking of is a Wanderer. Can a simple-minded Wanderer stimulate your brain and challenge you into verbal combat because he thinks the little scrunch you do when you’re frustrated is adorable?

Sylus is a monster because you turned him into one.

But whoever he is, I accept him. He is Sylus, he is mine. Nothing less, nothing more.

I gamble with my life and sentence him to his death. This is a risk that I will always regret taking. I should have known it was a trap. Sometimes I’m just like you. In pursuit of knowledge, I give up my humanity, my anchor in this world.

I can’t break through the glass, you made sure of that. My reflection is distorting my vision. I do not want to see myself if I can’t touch him again. I have no use for vanity when he���s not there to appreciate me.

Sylus, I say, my hands splayed on the cold enclosure. I’m here. Look at me. I’ll get you out.

I kneel before his stretched limbs, arms and legs constrained by an invisible force. In stasis he can’t move, but he can talk. Sylus’s eyes snag at me and they don’t light up, no, they widen in horror instead.

I want to travel to the deepest depths of Tartarus and rend your souls all over again for making him look at me with anything but adoration. Sylus will be proud. He takes pride in everything I do, everything I am.

But currently I’m his consolation prize. You dangle me in front of him so he won’t go in peace. You give him the slowest execution method and relish his torment.

I’m an opportunist. I won’t let this chance slide.

I knock out the guards and open the connection to channel my Evol to Sylus. It blinks out so fast in the chamber, but I can reach him if I put enough energy. My body won’t give out on me that fast, not when his soul is writhing to unite with me again. Better to lose a limb than my heart.

Devour me so we can be one, I plead. Not in lust nor fear. Something else. I won’t say love; that word will never spring out of my mouth as long as you are here. You have no right to hear my declaration. That is reserved for him.

Sylus can’t turn away from me, but I can see I’m already losing him. Ridiculous how you don’t want to resonate with me when you finally can, I prod.

Turns out he has enough energy to fashion a smirk. The last one I will ever see from him.

This is my way of challenging fate, kitten, replies he. If I don’t die, you will. And you will not die.

I insist: You’re dooming me to a repeated fate. I’m losing you again. We are bound. I won’t live with half of myself and half of you. I want to touch you, kiss you, feel you too. We have waited for so long to be together. Fight for me.

Part of fighting is knowing when to stop. You are my stop.

You listen to me. I’ll tell you when. That time is not now. I’ll tell you, so keep listening to me. Don’t go.

Blood is dribbling down Sylus’s chin. Goodness almighty. He’s gurgling with red, body counting down to implosion. He’s not healing himself. No one can survive being compressed to the extremity.

Sylus is invincible. Sylus is immortal. His atoms will rearrange themselves only to be ruptured again. I won’t subject him to this fate.

The head of the prison bursts in. I am already funnelling my Evol into the chamber. One push of a button is all he needs. Take control of my power, temper it into a longsword, and pummel it into Sylus’s scarcely beating heart.

Sylus doesn’t fight back. My dragon, who never lets anyone get the best of him. If it were for anyone else, he would have tried.

Sometimes I don’t like how pure his love is.

I should be the one wilting in the cage. I was the one branded as a target by you until he exposed himself, this stupid oaf. I can’t forget the way his body convulses from the lack of oxygen. Even a fiend needs to breathe.

You must press on, Sylus says.

His pained voice echoes in my head, steady as his conviction in me. That has never happened before.

I have found you once. I will find you again.

This is Sylus’s consolation prize for me.

Tell me, is he still the monster now?

Sylus’s sacrifice doesn’t hide a deeper meaning. It simply means I have lost him.

He put himself in that cage, my dearest, for if not him, it would have been me.

There isn’t a reality where we can both exist in peace. People like you will always hunt us down. Our existence itself is a bad omen. Banish or utilise, that’s all you want from us. You can’t stand anything different.

Well, I can’t stand vermin.

Now that Sylus is gone, nothing can stop me. This isn’t the world he lives in anymore. My motivation to protect it has gone with him. I have no care for a place that doesn’t mourn for him.

What’s mine is mine. You have taken enough from me. You tried to take my life, but he gave his to me.

You lose.

And you will keep losing. If I can’t keep my most precious treasure, you can’t either. Your arrogance has made you careless. Onychinus is never yours for the taking. Don’t assume I’ll let you destroy his legacy when it wouldn’t have existed without me.

I will unleash beasts upon this zone. Your blood will flood its land and concrete. Then I will grant you the immortality you so desire. See how you would like to live in an eternal loop of dying and resurrecting in a torture chamber.

This is my promise, the one absolute truth I will give you.

Footnotes:

The other absolute truth here is the love between Sylus and MC.

I’ve been haunted by the idea of a big event that has left a deep impact but nobody is there to record it factually. Or maybe they don’t want to, for some reason obscuring the information, or maybe the details are lost to time and fading memories. How history is partially subjective to the storyteller. Whatever it is, the total truth won’t survive, just as with the limited records of some historical events.

The main story update of MC trapped in the compression chamber made me wonder what if it was Sylus who was caged? What if this was how he chose to go against fate again? But did he really go against fate if he ended up repeating the past?

I would like to thank my surgery and post-op pain and the meds that got me delirious enough to write this. I couldn’t remember most of the first draft on the next day, but I remember writing it was fun.

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[that-tmr-girl]

Let Them Watch

Minho couldn't care less if all eyes are on you.

832 Words

Public fingering

Greenie night was more than alive. To be fair, it is every time. There are many things to celebrate here. When life's the same routine everyday, it starts to weigh on you. It grows heavy and boring, like the world doesn't have color.

Now it's painted with the oranges and yellows of flames and strange gold if Gally's drink. There's bright smiles all around and eyes that have grown from lost and confused to laid back and alright.

Nothing will ever beat these nights. Nothing.

“What's on your mind over there?”

I looked over at Minho, giving him a shrug as an answer. I love him and sharing my thoughts, but sometimes they're more peaceful in my head. Saying it aloud may jinx it, and I really can't risk that. Not here. Not on this.

“Didn't know you were keeping secrets now,”He remarked.

“There's no secrets,”I promised,rolling my eyes at him.

“Well, the world has some secrets,”He deadpanned, pulling the blanket around our legs again. Seeing as it was only getting colder, goosebumps traveling up my arms, I didn't mind.

“You have such a smart mouth,”I sighed, propping myself back as I gazed out at everything. Instead of doing the same, taking in the view, he leaned closer, his head rested on my shoulder. I stayed still, waiting for him to pull me close like usual.

“You love my mouth though, don't you?”He whispered in my ear, making me freeze. Seemingly unbothered by my reaction, but since it’s Minho actually just enjoying it, he trailed his hand up my thigh. Finding the ability to move, I scanned the group of boys around us, some closer than others.

“Minho, we-”

“And my fingers too,”He kept going, placing his hand over my clothed pussy as he grinded his palm against me, making me squirm against my will. “See? Like that?”

“We could-we could get caught,”I whispered. Not that it helped the grin crossing my lips or the wetness dripping in my panties. Not that it stopped me from unzipping my pants and grabbing his hand, starting to lead him inside.

“That is a possibility,”He said matter-of-factly.

Glancing around, when I confirmed nobody was concentrated on us, I slightly lifted myself to pull my pants down to my knees. Raising his eyebrow at me, he gave me a small smirk before reaching inside of my panties.

Knowing I had to be careful, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as though I was just taking in the atmosphere and not Minho’s hand inside my cunt.

Running his fingers along my slit, he toyed with me. He was almost at my entrance, so close to being inside of me. So close but still being a dick by not giving it to me.

“Minho,”I hissed.

“Yeah? Something wrong, baby?”

“Don't tease-”

“Hey! Found you shanks!”

I quickly raised my head at the voices that weren't supposed to be joining us tonight. Especially not now. Taking advantage of my shock, he plunged his finger inside of me, making my eyes clench shut before I remembered Jeff, Winston, and Fry were right there.

“Yeah. You all gonna take a seat?”

I shot Minho a scolding look only for him to start rubbing circles on my clit, making me drop my head as I gritted my teeth. Fuck, why do I let him do this to me? Why do I let him ruin me like this?

As he thrust another finger into me and started pumping, I got my answer. Biting down on my lip, I did my best to both not acknowledge anyone else's presence and turn invisible. It's just Minho, I, and his fingers pleasuring me.

I tuned out their talking as I gripped the blanket, keeping myself covered. Increasing his pace inside of me, he curled his fingers, bringing a knot to my core. He was reaching everywhere he could, his thumb rubbing faster circles against my clit.

“Y/N?”

“Wh-what?”I sputtered. As he repeated his question, Minho grinded his palm against my clit, covering all of my pussy. His pace was ruthless now, almost inhumane. My hips thrust up into him as I clenched the blanket into my fists, feeling myself grow closer.

“She's fine. Just tired,”Minho covered, reaching over to grab my thigh with his free hand, keeping me on the ground. A whimper finally left me as I was riding his hand anyway.

“Fell today,”I covered, pretending not to notice my voice being more breathy as I clenched around him. Looking over at him since I knew I wouldn't be able to control my face, I let my eyes roll back to my head as I released, spilling down his hand and into my once clean panties. The pressure I thought would never leave subsided, leaving me in a numb heaven as I let my senses remain gone for a little bit, stretching out the high from absolutely everything.

[campingwiththecharmings]

ever get the feeling some people are just...tolerating you?

[werewolfoffeverswamp]

one thing about art classes i failed to understand til it was too late is that when you’re given a prompt, your job is not to fit within the confines of that prompt. your job is to bend the prompt to shape to fit whatever you want to do. it seems a little obvious in retrospect but it’s something i never thought about and it’s why i had so much trouble in art school. it is also the case that i was not on the right medication at the time and i was surviving instead of living 😅😅😅

[offorestsongs]

sometimes being a non-native english speaker on the internet is just writing a fic and going "no no guys i know this is a bit bad but i'm such a good writer in my native language trust me guys i swear" the whole time except i have no way to prove it because it's not like anyone would you know, know my native language

[stair-tilez]

hmmm. My brain is saying Soldier. Cuz of how happy you seemed to send me ur headcanons the other day :) You should send me more hcs btw theyre funkee

EXPLODES A MILLION BILLION TIMES OVER !!!!!!!!!

i have a unexplainable anxiety about posting my headcanons publicly meaning cant get myself to talk about them often so getting to just word vomit all my thoughts to you was so much fun :D

in my heart of hearts your a scout expert with a minor in heavy bc your thoughts on heavy are peak headcanons, you'd Think spy would be in there somewhere but i find your scout and heavy hcs just so. grrgrgrgrgrgrrgrggrgrrr ya kno??

[ask game]

[dalishthunder]

.

[luvbabydoll]

more to love — simon “ghost” riley

simon “ghost” riley x chubby!fem!reader

the gym had never been your favorite place.

it was hot, crowded, and full of people who made it look easy—like lifting weights and running on treadmills was second nature. meanwhile, you were here, struggling with a machine that looked like it was built for torture rather than exercise.

you adjusted the seat, tried to grab the handles, then frowned when they felt too far away.

frustration bubbled up in your chest. maybe you were just doing it wrong. maybe you shouldn’t even be here.

“need a hand, love?”

the deep, accented voice startled you. you turned—and immediately regretted it.

because holy shit.

the man standing behind you was massive. tall, broad-shouldered, built like he could snap the machine in half with one hand. he was dressed in all black, a hoodie pulled up over his head, a skull mask covering the lower half of his face. and yet, even with all that, his presence alone made heat crawl up your neck.

“i—uh—” words? gone. brain? empty.

his eyes flicked down to the machine, then back to you.

“you’re set too far back.” his voice was gruff, like he wasn’t used to talking much. “lemme show you.”

before you could protest, he reached past you, adjusting the seat effortlessly. his arm barely grazed yours, but it was enough to make you hyper-aware of how close he was.

“try now.”

you swallowed hard, nodding, trying to ignore how warm your face felt as you reached for the handles again. this time, it fit better.

“better?”

you nodded again. “y-yeah, thanks.”

he huffed, stepping back, arms crossing over his chest. “good. no point in doin’ it if you’re just gonna hurt yourself.”

at first, that was all it was. he’d spot you now and then, offering the occasional correction, always watching with that unreadable gaze. sometimes, if you did something right, he’d murmur a quiet "good girl," and it sent a shiver down your spine every time.

but then, he started noticing things.

the way your shirt rode up when you stretched, the peek of soft skin at your waist. the way your thighs pressed together when you sat down to catch your breath. the way you avoided looking in the mirror, adjusting your clothes like you were trying to hide yourself.

and it pissed him off.

because, fuck, how did you not see what he saw?

one day, you were tugging at your shirt again, mumbling something under your breath as you glared at your reflection.

ghost heard it.

“quit that.”

you froze, looking up at him, wide-eyed.

he stepped closer, his voice dropping low. dangerous. “ain’t gonna stand here and watch you tear yourself apart. not when you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever laid eyes on.”

your breath hitched. “i—”

but he didn’t let you finish. he grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the locker room—empty, because it was late—and backed you against the wall.

“y’know what i see when i look at you?” his gloved hand trailed down, fingers brushing over your belly, gripping at the soft flesh with something close to reverence. “i see somethin’ perfect.”

then his mask was up just enough for you to see his mouth, and before you could process it, he was biting.

your belly. your thighs. your love handles. he had his hands on you, all over you, pressing you against the wall as he nipped, kissed, worshiped every inch of soft skin he could reach. he growled between bites, “so fuckin’ soft,” and, ‘could spend all night right here.”

and when you tried to protest, tried to tell him you weren’t—

he growled. actually growled, sinking his teeth into your thigh before pulling back, lips curling into something almost smug.

“don’t wanna hear another word about it,” he muttered. then, hoisted you up—like it was nothing—and carried you over to the bench.

“now. y’gonna let me sit you on my lap, or you gonna make me take you home first?”

[hoshigray]

Satoru and Suguru having a competition over who can impregnate their sweet shared lover first, please?

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my goodness???....you got my attention.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; implied geto is still a jujutsu tech sorcerer - satosugu taking turns with you - kissing; making out - lotus (geto) + eagle (gojo) positions - breeding kink - scratching - multiple orgasms - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, of get tf up) - cervix fucking - creampies - clitoral play (swiping) - pet names (angel, baby, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart) - humor - mention of drool + heavy depictions of come/semen.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

“Oooh—Haahh! Ohhh, God, Suguu, y’ feel so good…!”

“You feel good, too, princess...Hgghh! Shit, Y/n—“

“Yo, can you hurry it up? You know I’m not a patient guy, Suguru.”

Gojo sucks his teeth while watching you get it on with Geto. It was one of those nights when they’d come home and surprise you together. Usually, one would be assigned longer shifts or missions (that one mostly being Gojo), and the other would return home to eat dinner and sleep with you. But there would be those days when they’d arrive home in unison and try to do whatever they can to have you enjoy these rare moments with all three of you.

Sometimes, it would be Gojo taking you guys to some delicious café that sells parfaits that you’d probably like or Geto having the idea to have lunch at the park and enjoy the sun together. But, of course, there’d be those days when simply being inside the apartment, talking about each other’s day, watching a random movie, and then snoring while spooning would suffice. Because it doesn’t matter what they choose to do; all three of you being at the same place is always the best!

Tonight, however, was one of those nights where they’d pull you aside, drown you in kisses and gropes, and carry you to the bedroom for a more intimate occasion. For tonight, Geto and Gojo wanted to fuck you in the hopes you’ll be with child. And what better way for the two best friends to go about such an eventful issue than by a competition to see who can fill you up the most? 

Suguru has you propped on his crossed lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands kneading your asscheeks as you bounce on his cock and wail out his name in pretty notes. This was about the third round of the night, your cunt wet and filled with both Geto’s and Gojo’s cum. The fluids stream down with every jump of your hips from the base of his girth to his balls, the sounds of your union so filthy with the groans and moans that bounce around the bedroom walls. 

Geto sighs and burrows his chin into your shoulder. “Hahhh, oh, stop your crying, Satoru. You finished your turn and didn’t hear me heckle while you and Y/n were doing it.”

The white-haired man grunts with more complaints, to Geto’s dismay. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who takes longer to finish,” he persists, even if his raven-haired friend frowns. “I don’t want you to be the reason my dick falls asleep.”

“Tch, what you should be worrying about is finishing too quickly when it’s your turn. You act like being faster is better…Heh, maybe you can’t handle Y/n better than I do.”

“You son of a—“

“Hey now,” you’re the one who mediates the growing childish tension between your husbands, turning your face to lock Gojo in a spell with your gorgeous, hooded eyes. “Be nice, Toru; it’s Sugu’s turn now, so you can have me however you want when we’re done here, okay?”

Like a heart-struck fool, pink shades creep into the helix of Gojo’s ears as he happily complies with your request. “Okay, my princess.”

Geto rolls his eyes at his friend’s display; what a total loser. As if he has room to talk because once you turn back to face him and kiss his cheek, his breath hitches. “Come on,” you whisper. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”

The dark-haired one chuckles before claiming your lips with his, “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

As you two kiss, you rock your hips more to create a steady rhythm on top of Geto. His girth stretches your vagina nicely, and with his pulsing veins, you can feel them rub on the velvety texture of your inner walls. It’s good that the pace is at a respectable tempo, allowing you to feel him at your wits and pleasure truly.

But the best part of this position is how easy it is to stimulate your clitoris. Every time you rock your hips against Geto’s, the bulb rubs against his body and has your frame jolting. It feels so fucking good, having your cunt stuffed with his girth member and graze your walls deliciously while your precious button is being pressed.

The pacing soon goes in sync, his subtle thrusts as you bounce your ass on him while kissing. Your mewls are taken by his hungry lips, sucking on your tongue to evoke more cute noises, your hand coming to the back of his head to massage and grab strands of his onyx hair. He’s so romantic with you and your body, the position making this intimacy so much more personal. Your chasm frequently clamps on his cock when you pull your waist up, making the man below you hiss at the grip.

He breaks the kiss, “Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…”

“Really?” You giggle, laying more kisses on his cheek and ears. It sends shivers down his spine. 

“—Khhh, damn it, I can’t...” Suddenly, Geto thrusts upwards in a faster notion, and you scream to hold on quickly and follow his cadence. “Fuck, you feel too amazing, sweetheart…!” You can’t reply to him appropriately; your only responses are narrowed down to high-pitched whines and squeals. His hands wrap around your back to keep your body close as he chases his climax, his hot face melting with the sweat of your shoulder while he pushes his cock to meet your cervix. “Hmng! Hmmnn, I’m gonna cum, baby…!”

“Ohooo, me too, Sug’ruu, me—Tahhh! Ohhh, Jesus…!” Your clit keeps bumping onto Geto, your nerves getting activated with every rut. Shaky moans leave your puffy lips, and your hand scratches his back at every jab of your delicate cervix. You bring him in for another kiss – this one a lot more rushed and steamy – and your orgasm hits you both from the erratic speed of your hips.

You two sigh heavily into each other’s mouths, your body sinking into Geto’s gentle hold as his cock ejaculates his semen into your throbbing slit. His hands massage your back while his pelvis rolls to grind his dick and have your walls clench onto him more.

With a soft sound, you remove your lips from his, smiling gently while you brush his bangs off to view his left eye. “You love to finish strong, Sugu.”

He chuckles before kissing your nose. “Can’t help it if you drive me crazy, my love—“

“Alright, round’s over!” 

Before Geto knows it, Gojo’s already on the bed, yanking you off his best friend’s lap and laying you down with your back to the sheets. He voices his discontent, trying not to appear too upset. “Excuse you? Can’t let me have a moment?”

“Nope!” He shoves a middle finger to Geto’s face, and the black-headed one almost pops a vessel. “I practically went limp after watching you two for so long. So obverse from the side and let me have my fun.”

“So annoying,” Geto mumbles under his breath, yet the milky-haired one chooses not to listen with a huff and places all his attention on you.

“Now,” Gojo turns to you with half-lidded cerulean eyes, a smile beaming too much that his dimples show up. He spreads your legs to evince your messy chasm; Geto’s come spilling down to the crevice of your butt as he massages your inner thighs. Fuck, so fucking nasty, it had him bite his lip. “You ready for more of me, baby?”

You titter, bringing your legs up your chest and spread to a V-shape. “Yes, Toru, thank you for being patient.”

He snickers while pushing his glans to meet your soapy folds, humming when the excessive come lubes your labia sufficiently for his cock to be inserted. The hug of your walls makes him moan, and you jerk as his left curve scratches the plush itch. “Fuuuuck, so warm and tight for me, baby.” 

His arms support your legs in the air, and the position allows him to initiate with slow thrusts. Your purr at his movements; the curve has you howl with every push, stretching your pussy when he propels himself into you and rubs the upper wall of your vagina. Oh God, feels so fucking good…

You peer to where his dick is plunging into your cunt, silently awing at the mussy display of cum ringing around the base of his shaft and stringing to where your folds are. Holy shit, you chew on your bottom lip and move a hand to finger your clit, silently howling at the swipes you dance around your bud. “OhhhGod, hmmmm, right there…”

Gojo looks down and sees what you’re doing, and he chuckles, “Shit, you enjoying yourself, pretty girl? Hmm?” He ruts into you with sudden haste, and an abrupt hit to your cervix has you almost choking on air. “Like being filled up, huh?”

“Ahhh, y–yesss, I lov—Mmmph!!” He grinds his pelvis down, drilling his length deep inside to scuff your smooth walls. “I love y’r dick so much, Satoruuu…!”

“Awww, look at you playing with yourself,” the view excited him more, increasing his speed to pound into you. You cry out at the poke of your cervix, clamping onto him in response. “Ahhhh, there it is,” he coos while adding more weight onto you, making his rocks precise where he wants to hit. More shrieks fly out your lips, “Wanna be bred so bad, princess? Want me to fill you up again?”

Your head aches, ears ringing from the sloppy sounds of his dick rutting inside you, his balls smack your grundel with every push. “Ahhnn, mmoohhh, ye’sss,” you whisper.

“C’mon, angel, let me hear you.” Gojo places his forehead on your sweaty one, azure eyes examining your expression in a haze. “You want—Nnngh! Fuck…Want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? Make you a mama? ”

“Yess, ’Toru, yesss!! Give me y’ur babiess, make me all fat and full!!”

“Heh, good, pretty girl; so good for—Khhckk!! Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum…” He brings his lips to yours, moaning to the kiss with you while his hips turn up to a volatile rate. Your whimpers are sucked and drunk by him, your eyebrows furrowed from the cyclical hits to your cervix and rubbing on your silky tunnel.  

Your arms come around to his shoulders, beckoning him to deepen the kiss as your body gets ready for the orgasm that hits you like a train. Trembles climb up your frame, whines muffled, and drool slips out your mouth down to your chin. Your cunt contracts around his length, milking him into his own release and filling you with his essence, adding to the pile that squelches and trickles down to the sheets beneath you. 

Gojo nibbles on your lip as he pumps every last bit of his load into you, his tongue twirling with yours until he removes his face from yours. He smiles, dimples greeting you with disheveled strands of snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. Too distracted by his charm for him to sneak in more harsh thrusts to your aching frame. 

You gasp aloud, “—Ohooo! Satoru, nooo! I’m too sensitive nowww..!!”

“Mmmm, sorry, princess,” an apology with a smile doesn’t match, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wail for him while he ruts into your vulnerable slit. “You just feel too good, can never get enou—Owwww!!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Witness to the entire thing, Geto smacks Gojo with a house slipper before pulling him off you and throwing him to the side. The blue-eyed man looks at the other with an annoyed face. “I should be asking you the same thing, you psycho; what’s with the assault!?”

“Did you forget? Your turn is up,” indigo eyes narrow with a dark glint. “So why are you still moving?”

“Oh, quit yapping, giant earlobes! Can’t a guy squeeze in a few more before I get off…Or what, you scared I’d make them pregnant first? Your frail soldiers can’t compete with mine, is that it?” 

“Hah, you tell me, blue-eyed snowflake; you’re the one still trying to fuck into them like you’re afraid your load isn’t enough. Poor guy; can’t be a sore loser too early, now.”

“Choke on my dick!”

“You first.”

The two bicker back and forth while you observe, unable to find the right cue to intervene as you’re still in a daze. You sit on your side, feeling the liquids inside you exit your frame and slide down your thighs.

As they fight, you remember that you had forgotten to tell them that you took a birth control pill earlier today after they texted about returning home together. It wasn’t until after dinner that they said they wanted to try and fuck and fill you to the brim, practically dragging you to the room before you could utter a word to them about the contraceptive.

…Oh well, surely they don’t mean to have a baby right this moment. Plus, there will be other times! So, for now, you watch your husbands argue before you while shaking your head with a smile.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[inupibaldspot]

Walk him like a dog

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : The first year trio are watching Gojo who is completely head over heels for you.

To the world, Gojo Satoru is the strongest but to the people who know him Gojo Satoru is a menace.

When he was in high school, he was a different breed. Yaga could not sleep at times from all the stress Gojo would cause; be it either an earful from the higher ups or checking the news only to find out there had been an explosion conveniently where Gojo’s mission was assigned.

Sometimes he would get pictured sent to him by the problem student himself, a picture with a beaten up enemy and Gojo winking at the camera with a note saying ‘Yay~ another victory! I mean it’s as normal as breathing for me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ’

Even when Yaga would use his authority and lecture him, sometimes Gojo Satoru would not listen; be it simply ignoring or rebutting it with his opinion— an opinion no one asks for.

And when that happens, Yaga would pull out his secret weapon ‘You’! He didn’t use this card all the time but at time Gojo was simply so uncooperative, he had to! Any word coming from you would be listened to by him as if it were law. Right now, at the age of 28 he seemed to have matured- no stopped acting as childish and Yaga didn’t have to rely on you so often.

That same Yaga watches from the window at his new first years— Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuji and Fushiguro Megumi— behind a bush, hiding peeking over to you and Gojo who were on a bench.

“Ah…” Kugisaki sweat dropped at the pair. “Gojo-sensei is so smitten.” She said observing at how you were simply reading a book, as Gojo yaps away but one thing very obvious was the gentle look he gave you.

When you finally looked Gojo’s way, their white haired teacher suddenly stops, they notice a faint blush peeping under his blindfolds and when he does starts talking he stammers. THE Gojo Satoru was stammering, biting his tongue simply because you were looking at him.

“Kugisaki, let’s leave.” Itadori covers his eyes, his right eye peeps through the cracks of his fingers. “Sensei is doing such a bad job at flirting with y/n, I’m getting embarrassed.”

Kugisaki lifts her hands and grabs the collar of Itadori’s and starts shaking it. “This is the closest we’re getting to romance in this school and I want to be the witness.” She grits her teeth.

Just then Nanami walks along the path, making the pair look over. You smile as you call out. “Nanami-kun.”

Nanami stops and waits as you stand from your bench, walking over to greet him. The students stare; as soon as you got off the bench and walks Gojo follows suit not even a millisecond later.

Kugisaki cringes. “He is like a puppy…”

They could vaguely hear Gojo start to make fun of Nanami, but when you think his ‘joke’ was a slight bit too harsh; they watch you give Gojo a side eye and almost immediately their teacher shuts up.

‘y/n has the strongest sorcerer at the palm of their hands .’ Kugisaki and Itadori collectively thought.

Before Kugisaki could comment she senses a small wet feeling on her forehead, then another and then she was drowning in it. Suddenly it started raining.

“Geh. Let’s get out of here.” Kugisaki says as she quickly brought her hands up to cover her bangs. “I don’t want my hair to frizz up.”

Itadori and Fushiguro follows her lead as they walk away to the nearby building and when they did reach shelter, Kugisaki quickly turns around to check on their teacher and you, a fellow sorcerer.

Her mouth drops slightly taking in the situation at hand, Nanami was no where in sight. She assumes he left because of the rain too.

But that wasn’t the focus.

Her eyes were focused on Gojo and you, holding hands smiling fondly at each other, she also noted that he was using ‘Infinity’ to not get wet from the rain.

Gojo laughs as he raises one of your hands high which makes you let out laugh, but complies as you proceed to twirl. As soon as you make two twirls, their teacher places his hands on your face as his leans down, his lips on yours.

Kugisaki and Itadori squeal and blushes at the intimate scene infront of them, jumping. “Sensei, finally did it! He kissed y/n—!” Itadori smiles.

They watch you smile into the kiss and you bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’m so happy,Kugisaki.” Itadori wipes his tears with the back of his hands, extremely happy for his teacher’s happiness and success in his love life.

“I don’t know why you guys are making such a fuss.” Fushiguro finally decides to add into the antics of his classmates.

“Huh?” Kugisaki quickly turns and glares at the dark haired man. ”Is your heart made of stone or something,Fushiguro?”

“Yeah! I heard Gojo-sensei basically raised you.” Itadori chirps in. “You should be more happy for him.”

Kugisaki nods in agreement.

“I mean…” Fushiguro sighs as his hands are up massaging his temple, mentally preparing for the outburst to come.

“They’re married…”

“Ehhhhh???”

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