#you have absolutely no control over your own life.

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊

Mother Nature

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)

Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.

Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...

You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.

The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.

Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.

When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?

One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.

Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...

Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.

You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.

Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.

Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.

Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.

Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.

Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work.  Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.

The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.

Not you.

You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.

One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.

You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.

However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.

For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).

Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.

„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"

Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."

"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."

"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."

You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.

You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."

Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.

[0lympia]

dopamine - denki kaminari

summary: recovery isn’t linear or easy. it isn’t a million things, and it’s about a million other things. you know this, most of hero society knows this and sort of accepts this. doctors and physical therapists and psychiatrists know this, and preach it. you know it too.

warnings: aftermath of war, mention of injuries, therapy, denki is a good friend

wc: 2,459

"Progress isn't linear," your physical therapist reminds you. It takes every last ounce of self control to keep yourself from snapping that you know hands white-knuckling the wood of the parallel bars.

You want to scream at all your therapists and doctors and nurses that you know progress isn't linear. There's no way for you to not know when you've heard it about a hundred times a day in the six months since the war.

It's even harder to deny when you watch your classmates, fellow hero students, struggle through recovery. The depression and anxiety and PTSD had swept through the nation, and had taken down aspiring heroes and pro heroes alike in massive swathes. You'd watched as the interest in becoming a hero dwindled, no longer a fantasy pipe dream for anybody, but instead a hard earned title with terrifying, life threatening responsibilities.

"I know," You huff out, mostly out of pain and exertion, and you try to take yet another excruciating step. You know you're only moving a few inches at a time — a sad shuffle, if you're honest — but it feels like miles.

There are a few of your classmates also in the PT room, all working on one motor skill or another. Midoriya is seated at one of the tables by the window, working with his own therapist to just grip a pencil.

You'd watched the terrifying green-haired aspiring hero go from screaming and shouting through tears to quiet frustrated sniffling and stifled tears when they'd had him working on the fine motor skill of writing. It had broken your heart, knowing that prior to the war he'd spent nearly all his spare time writing in that notebook he kept. Before the war you might have offered him a smile, some gesture of encouragement, but now you could barely even take a step before the titanium pins holding your joints together jostled and pain shot through you.

You're still hunched over, bracing yourself on the wooden bars, and you can feel a tug on your gait belt as your therapist makes sure you aren't going to fall on your face. You take another sad, measly, step forward and pain races through you, from your toes all the way up through your spine and into your skull. There's a quiet shout as you do it, and for moment you think the sound came from you, but your gait belt remains relaxed.

The shout had come from next to you, Kaminari had fallen, his therapist catching him before his knees could even hit the ground.

You'd watched him struggle through therapy too. His Quirk leaving his body wracked with uncontrollable shakes and tremors. You could still recall very clearly the absolute frustration and anguish he'd expressed at one of the early class therapy sessions over his autonomy being robbed from him.

You could relate.

"Fuck!" He curses, and you can tell he's biting back tears. You take another step, and it hurts so bad a grunt of pain escapes your gritted teeth, knees buckling so hard that your therapist can't seem to react fast enough, and you barely catch yourself on the bars.

You look over at Kaminari, and he's watching you through the long fringe of his blonde hair, the black streak he dyed into nearly entirely faded out. You know he's taking stock of your injuries, the same way you're assessing him, as you ease yourself to the padded floor with a heavy sigh.

"This never seems to get any easier, does it?" He asks, and he's offering you a smile.

"No," you agree in a rasp, vocal cords scraping roughly, never to sound like they did before the war, "It doesn't."

You quickly wipe away your stray tears of pain, turning your head in hopes that you don't have to watch as his expression morphs into something like pity. Or understanding, maybe. Either way, the looks people give you now make you sick to your stomach.

You'd been beaten nearly to death. Though, who hadn't. And although you hadn't had quite as exciting a resuscitation as Bakugou had, you'd been resuscitated twice during your hospital stay. The surgeries had been intensive, not that you'd know having been practically comatose for the three weeks following the end of the war, and recovery had been painfully slow.

Your throat had been ruined, and the reconstruction hadn't been easy — or pretty. So now your voice was a shallow rasp of what it had once been, and that was an improvement from the disturbing gargle it had been at the first class therapy session.

Kaminari was eyeing the marred skin on your neck, angry raised pink and red skin whorling around your neck and up to the right side of your chin and jawline.

Again, not pretty.

"I ha-haven't—haven't seen you without ban-ba-bandages before," Denki comments quietly, and when you lift your head to offer him a wry grin he's looking away, face twisted into something that looks like shame. Or maybe it's embarrassment. You have a hard enough time picking through your own emotions without the help of your therapist to be trying to decipher anybody else's.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," You mutter despondently, a hand coming to feel at the whorls of scar tissue, "I know it's pretty nasty."

Kaminari's therapist is helping him into a wheelchair now, the same as yours, holding onto you by your gait belt.

"Nah," He says, shaking his head as he leans back into the wheelchair. Then he's wheeled out, and his therapist takes him down a hall you've never been down.

"Progress isn't linear," Denki's therapist tells him.

"I know," Denki says, and he's glad that his voice is his right now. No stuttering, no awkward stumbles, his brain firing only the synapses it needs to, "It's just— I went from having total control to having none in just a little over a day. And the worst part is I did it to myself. People would have died if I didn't, but I would still be me if I hadn't."

Denki knows he's shaking, knows because his therapist is offering him a blanket— still not able to tell when he's got tremors or when he's actually shivering. He just shakes his head at her, not sure that when he opens his mouth next he'll be able to speak.

"People would have died either way," His therapist tells him, "Had you been put in your position again, knowing what it would do to you to stay, would you do it again?"

Denki looks appalled, shocked, maybe even a little angry at the thought, "I'd do it a hundred times over if that meant we had a better chance at winning the war."

For some reason, as his therapist points to him, telling him that he's got answer right there, he thinks of you. Wonders if you'd do it all again, even with the knowledge that you'd end up potentially with the worst of the injuries.

He remembers seeing you get wheeled past him in the hospital when the war had ended. A nurse had been on top of you, doing chest compressions, and he would never forget how air had wheezed past your lips, and the noise your ribs made as they cracked from the compressions. He'd been horrified when you passed by, his classmates who could stand gasping at the state of you as you'd been wheeled by. He remembers the many odd angles your legs had bent, and the vicious burns and cuts in your neck, and how your face had been so bloodied and bruised and swollen you were unrecognizable. The only indication it was you had been your tattered hero costume, hanging off of you in shreds.

"A friend of mine," Denki starts, even though he knows todays session is coming to a close, the visual timer his indicator, "Was in even worse condition than I was after the war. I think the worst condition in our class. They're still attending classes even though they can barely walk most of the time. I know they'd do it all again, too. But I can't imagine why they'd want to suffer through all that they have again."

"Why don't you ask them that?" His therapist suggests.

The next day Denki does just that. He hunts you down on wobbling legs, world tilting as he does, after classes had ended. Despite most everybody in class still suffering mobility issues, regular classes had resumed two months after the war had ended. And despite your incredibly limited mobility, your Quirk helped you get around better than most.

The war had either drawn friends closer in the aftermath, people clinging to the bonds they already had, like Denki had done, his friendships with his classmates who were willing even stronger than they had been prior to the war. Or it did what it had done to you, the remnants of war weighing so heavily that seclusion seemed to be the only option.

Then again, most everybody had become more withdrawn in the aftermath of the war. Conversations between anybody was stilted, even amongst those who had been closer than close.

So when he'd finally hunted you down, exhausted and shaking so bad it was wonder he'd managed to find you at all, it was an odd sort of relief when you'd smiled in greeting.

You'd hidden away on dorm roof, knowing that if anybody wanted to talk to you the stairs made the process all that more difficult for most of your classmates. You waved him over, and he wobbled his way over to you trying his best to walk steady, even as a particularly bad wave of tremors came over him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" You'd asked in way of greeting when he'd taken a seat next to you near the edge of the roof. You even smiled at him, halfway forced, but mostly genuine, the muscles in your face atrophied from a general lack of use over the past six months.

Denki smiles in return, his mouth twitching wildly as his brain misfires, "I was hoping I could ask you something. If that's okay?"

A spark of panic runs through you, there aren't usually very many scenarios when you're asked a question that doesn't make everybody uncomfortable when you deign to answer. You spare a glance at him, searching for any signs of discomfort in his face. Finding none, you nod slowly.

"If you could go back, would you still have fought in the war, knowing what you know now?"

You stare at him, and you can already see the regret sinking into his face. You rush to find an answer. You'd had a similar conversation with your therapist before, back when the concept of survivor's guilt had been new and foreign. You had told your therapist yes, of course you would, because -

"-It didn't really feel like there was any other choice to make," The words leave your mouth involuntarily.

Your classmates had expressed similar sentiments, that they were there, what else were they supposed to do? You didn't care that you were already there, time and place had nothing to do with it. You could've been out of there in a matter of minutes.

"You could've walked away, though," Denki says, knowing the same as you that getting away wasn't the issue like it had been for most of his classmates, "You had a choice. Why did you stay?"

"I was either going to die that day or live with a lifetime of guilt. Dying seemed easier at the time."

He flinches at the mention of death, having tasted it himself, "But you didn't."

"No," You agree, "I didn't. I wrecked myself, and I'd do it all again, even as I am now if it means I can die knowing I did all that I could."

He hums, maybe with electricity, you don't know. You don't look over to check.

"Nobody would have been mad at you if you'd left."

"I would have."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Your words haunt Kaminari in the days that follow, and he makes an active effort to drag you into his friend groups activities. You let him pull you along for lunch with his friends, and you try your hardest to greet them with the same enthusiasm they did.

His friends are riddled with about the same amount of scar tissue you are, Bakugo perhaps the worst. You'd heard about his meeting with death on the battlefield with All For One. He'd sought you out maybe a month after Kaminari had integrated you into their friend group to talk about the shared experience of dying.

Then, suddenly, you couldn't seem to shake Kaminari, try as you might. He was walking with you to and from class, and the two of you did physical therapy together, even though you'd progressed to a point where you could start more intensive training and he still wobbled every other step.

So, maybe it was a two-person effort that pulled him into your life, an integral player. Or maybe it was an unhealthy trauma bond, you couldn't tell, chest still numb in the aftermath. Though, you couldn't tell if the numbness was from your anti-depressants or the war.

"I'm glad you've found a support group of sorts," Your therapist tells you at your next visit, "It's important to have friends and strong bonds in times like these."

You nod along numbly. Granted, your therapist's right, you've been feeling better since that day on the roof when Kaminari had hunted you down to ask you what nobody else seemed to want to.

"Kaminari's been a really good friend to me," You tell your therapist, "Feels like I haven't been as good of a friend as I maybe should be."

Your therapist only hums, and leaves with the advice that you should maybe do something to let Kaminari know you appreciate his friendship with you.

The next time Kaminari finds you on the roof, you're greeting him with a Pikachu phone charm and a box of his favorite cookies.

"To say thanks," you tell him, even though he doesn't ask and you don't look at him. Kaminari's chest blooms with an electric warmth and this time he's sure it's not from his Quirk.

"You should call me Denki," Is all he says, and he feels giddy at the thought, "We're friends, after all."

You hum, your legs swinging gently over the ledge of the dorm roof. You smile with no restraint when you finally return his gaze, your eyes meeting his shaking golds.

"Only if you call me (f/n), Denki."

It's like you took a shot of dopamine when he smiles in return, and says, "Okay, (f/n)."

[angrelysimpping]

Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway 

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm. 

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others. 

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark. 

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks. 

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum 

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark. 

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks. 

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks. 

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you? 

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs. 

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse. 

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria. 

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark. 

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out? 

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you. 

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand. 

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting. 

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action. 

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you. 

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax. 

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar. 

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you. 

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise. 

Doren 

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist. 

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable. 

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw. 

Don’t touch their marks. 

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped. 

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what. 

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers. 

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan 

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine. 

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all. 

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it. 

Also not big on touching your marks, either. 

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times. 

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks. 

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital. 

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching. 

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow. 

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks. 

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks. 

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton 

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark. 

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong  with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play. 

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck. 

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school. 

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke. 

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe. 

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist. 

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern. 

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake. 

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks. 

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker. 

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks. 

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest. 

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement. 

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas. 

Sydney 

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips. 

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks. 

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh. 

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks. 

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone. 

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public. 

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark. 

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed. 

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's. 

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily. 

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks. 

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home. 

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time. 

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely. 

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity: 

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity: 

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery

[dontlookatmytmntcollection]

(I didn’t find any info if your askbox is closed or not, if you are not taking up requests you can ignore this!)

But hi :) how are you? how you are doing well

this is a bit personal, but would you mind doing either a Headcanon or scenario with reader x turtles (romantic/crush stage) with a…Hopeless reader? Kinda someone who had to tell themselves that love isn’t on their life journey and that seriously bother them? Lol

this weekend I’m gonna attend a friends wedding, while meeting with some shared friends before the wedding, one of them quoted corpse bride’s scene “to Emily, always the bridesmaid, never the bride” for me (most of my friends are married or dating long term), usually I handle the lack of a love life fairly well (by not thinking about it or just making jokes about it lol) but tonight it kinda really bothered me, a lot.) a lot of my friends treat me being single as something I don’t out efforts in it? But holy shit I do, and it really hurts to see them saying or acting like I’m not doing enough? Anyways. I guess the request would be how the turtles would react to a reader who kinda just lost hope, who agrees with the quote even if it makes her very sad? Kinda trying to wing the night lowkey but turtles can sense it hurt her (maybe Vern said the quote lol, or something similar… that’s something stupid enough for the falcon to do 😅)

I hope makes sense, if not I apologize for the messy ask. Have a good day / night

I'm sorry that happened. Your friends definitely need to stfu about that lol dating and relationships are fun, but nobody NEEDS them. If they need a RELATIONSHIP to feel fulfilled, they have shit to figure out.

Definitely been there tho. And being single can be horrible. I see you

Scene: Your turtle has been secretly pining for you for a while now. Hasn't got the guts to say anything yet.

TMNT x Lonely Reader

Leo

- He could sense your reaction instantly, despite how well you hid it.

- Your micro expressions, the slight but sudden shift of your bodyweight away from Vern- Leo almost didn't catch that you had smiled and laughed at the comment.

- His own reaction was visceral and overwhelming, at least it was to him.

-He remained still by your side, but the urge to...he didn't even know. Hide you. Push hard at Verns shoulder- something.

-Geez. He hadn't felt like this since he was a child. Like he could protect his little brothers or you from judgment or cruelty.

-He couldn't.

-He sucked in a breath through his nose, scrambling for self-control; watching you handle the interaction like an adult. Forcing himself to as well.

-But it did satisfy him to see that Vern physically felt his animosity. The guy took once glance at Leo before he instantly stuttered an excuse to walk to another conversation.

-"Vern is an idiot." Leo scratched out, desperate to keep what he really wanted to say to you at a minimum. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

-You seemed surprised at that, glancing up at him. But your quite, sincere smile made it it worth it.

Raph

- "Always the brides maid, never the bride, huh?"

- "What?" It was a reactive response. Before you could even register what he had said, or the sudden amount of hurt- or embarrassment you felt.

- Raph had turned wide, expectant eyes on Vern as well, something Vern noticed instantly.

- "Well, yunno." Vern stutteres, trying to stay focused on you. "I've seen ya at these events a lot but you never bring a guy around...or-"

-"See that girl over there?" Raph suddenly said, leaning down a little to point your gaze in the right direction.

- "Yeah." You said quietly.

-"Who's that girl, Vern?"

-Vern looked back at you guys, shrugging and putting his hands back in his pockets with an air of pride. "She's my girlfriend."

-Raph smirked, his voice somehow both condescending and unusually soft. "Vern met her a week ago. That makes her..." Raph trailed off, looming back into his full height, towering over Vern. "The sixth one this year, right. Makin' you real good at givin' advice to pretty girls, Falcon boy. Careful with that."

-"Jesus. I'm just- I'll be over there." Vern sighed, awkwardly stepping aside then walking out of sight.

- Raph said nothing, instead turning to you. "You alright?"

-You were desperate not to say everything you wanted to. "Much better." You said instead, looking up at him. Hoping the softness you saw there was a reflection of what you felt for him too.

Donnie

- Donnie couldn't even react or register the words before you were handling it. Shrugging and waving Vern off.

-He was horrified. His eyes were glued to Vern, completely confused that the guy had missed how rude of a statement that was.

-The conversation came and went, and while he had a wonderful time, he was entirety focused on you.

-While you didn't seem MISERABLE, you were different. Something had obviously changed. And it was Verns fault.

-You had no reason to feel pressure of that kind. You were perfect the way you were! No one should ever, ever, ever make you feel anything less.

-The thought that you did made him physically sick to his stomach.

-He might not have caught it in time to say anything in the moment.

-But Verns apartment locks, car, computer, and bathroom pipes all giving him a hard time all in the next 24 hours?

-A complete and utter mystery...

Mikey

-"Yeah you should listen to him." Mikey said.

-Shock coursed through you. "What?" You looked at him, wide eyed, heart in your throat- "W- I should-"

-"You should listen to him." Mikey repeated, noding solumley, starting to confidently strole around Vern. "This guy has fantastic dating advise. You don't even know, girl. Look at him!" Mikey's smile was as bright as the sun, gesturing to Vern as if he was a plater he was showing off to you.

-"He's been on this earth so long, his life experience exceeds our very comprehension, girl."

-Vern made a sudden puzzled expression while yours melted quickly into a smile.

-"He's got recipes too. Qualifications, evidence, the whole nine yards. Guy has like- twelve grand kids-"

-"I- C'mon, Mike-" Vern was catching on.

-"Ohhh.. yeah, that's right. No grandkids. But he does have a wife. They just had their fiftieth anniversary-!"

-"I'm not that o- He's joking with you." Vern tried to explain. "I'm not married."

-Mikey snapped his fingers as he had remembered something, suddenly getting much, MUCH closer in Verns personal space.

-"Oh yeah, that's right. You're not married. I forget that your on, like, your sixth girlfriend this month. Maybe actual advise sounds like..."

-Mikey stepped away from Vern, standing infront of you. "Keep those standards up, girl. Pretty face like yours? You could have anyone you want."

-You couldn't stop smiling.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Thank you so much @yandere-paramour for commissioning me.

Commission description: I got in a freak accident where in hs where I was in theatre rehearsal and basically a 4x4 fell directly onto my head and I was severely concussed for the Next month. Can you write this happening to Reader and Yves cannot prevent it in time? and he's very upset and angry at himself and Reader is just absolutely fucked up and nearly helpless.

tw: injury, yandere themes

(2632 words)

He oversaw your entire hospital residency. Yves didn't trust the doctors and nurses that were there, he would be the one to administer any treatment. Yves would also be the one to give you bed baths and clean any messes you may have made due to losing some control over your bladder or bowels. Yves had seen all of you.

All he needed to do was talk to a few people, pull some strings, forge a few signatures, and erase a handful of records.

You were in deep throbbing pain, only made manageable by the painkillers you were made to eat. But you couldn't think straight either, everything is just too hazy and foggy. The slightest bit of light bothers you to no end, luckily you were vaguely aware Yves was around to be with you. He knew what to do, he always knew what to do.

You could make out your boyfriend's hushed voice as he spoke through the phone. Squinting your eyes, you could discern a blurry image of Yves holding his smartphone in one hand, and the other typing away on his laptop. You had always found his voice soothing, but it sounded like he was upset, it didn't help that you were barely registering the words he was saying.

Noticing that your drugs are slowly wearing off, Yves quickly ended the call and walked over to you in large strides. You closed your eyes and he didn't say anything, only the shuffling and rustling of what you think came from the medical equipment reached your ears. Occasionally, you open your eyes only to close them again, catching glimpses of Yves toggling with your cannula and a filled syringe.

You were too concussed to question why Yves is doing the nurses' or doctors' job, or if he was even qualified to do so. You were just glad that he was by your side.

Soon, you felt the relief and newfound wooziness from the freshly administered IV painkillers and something else. You were sent to your own world when Yves pulled himself away to clean up and put everything back in place.

You felt him caress your cheek and kiss you on the forehead. After that, you felt the mattress of your hospital bed dip as Yves got on, he tucked himself under your blanket and spooned you from behind.

It was baffling how that wooden plank dislodged itself from somewhere and hit you. Just you, out of all the people present there. He does routine checks on the places where you frequent, the theatre didn't appear to be dilapidated, nor did his numerous tests yield any conclusions that could help him predict this outcome. That damned building passed all his safety checks, likewise, your coworkers weren't a threat to your life.

He buried his head in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes as he breathed in your scent. Yves was deep in thought while he tenderly rubbed the palm of your hands, it's not foul play. If it was, he already knew from the footage from a few dozen cameras he hid around the theatre. Moreover, he did his research on every single one you knew or knew you. The idea of someone trying to end your life is possible, but not plausible.

Yves had replayed that one video over and over again to try and discern the cause of the wooden plank falling from the top. It seemingly... isn't caused by anything. No matter how he digitally enhanced it, no matter how many times he watched it until it was positively seared into his brain, Yves found nothing of note. It just detached from the ceiling and fell. He frowned each time he had to remember the instant it slammed right into your head.

He even paid the theatre a visit just to investigate the site of impact itself. Bewilderingly, he could discern advanced signs of weakness in the surrounding areas that weren't there a day before but would have taken a few months to form through natural means. He swabbed everything and all his tests came out nothing. Yves was undetected by the owners of that building or the authorities because he broke in during the dead of night and scaled the beams quietly and skillfully. He balanced himself on a taut rope while he snapped pictures of the sites.

He called up people who he thought could give him advice and more information about the matter, but to no avail. It's almost like this was caused by something paranormal, there were no conceivable reasons as to how or why this happened. Even if there was, it defied the laws of physics in this reality.

Regardless of how strange and unexpected this event was, Yves was upset that he didn't think of a failsafe for this. He thought of everything but not this, because it was just so implausible.

You groan in discomfort, nothing feels right and you want your mind back now. However, there really isn't anything Yves could do and all the other relatively instantaneous healing methods he knew of would cause more significant harm than good. So, for now, you're stuck like this.

He sighed, murmuring that he was here to assure you. Well, at least this has given him a new set of data that he otherwise wouldn't go out of his way to induce and collect; there is at least that silver lining.

Yves frowned as he parted away from you, despising the cold nipping at him without you as his soft heater. But he has a lot to do, he has to maintain the life that you built for yourself while you're out of commission for at least a month.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead once more, ensuring that you were completely passed out from the drugs before taking out his phone again to make a few more important calls.

-

He transferred you to his humble abode a few days later, after determining that you were stable enough for him to resume your care outside of the hospital. You could barely walk, talk, or open your eyes, you were entirely helpless. Mumbling semi-incoherent words to try and communicate your needs and wants. Luckily for you, Yves clearly knew what you wanted just by your body language alone, so you were never too angry or frustrated that he couldn't understand you.

Unfortunately for your friends and family who would visit you from time to time, you were babbling in a language from another planet. They're either too loud, too panicky, or too pungent-smelling to be around with. It's as if the air was ruined by their presence. Your poor, concussed mind thought everyone else was just idiots and Yves is the only intelligent lifeform there.

Such an attentive man, he is. Yves would politely shoo them out of your shared bedroom when they got too much, he would then spend a few more minutes entertaining them with small talk downstairs before ultimately making them leave the property. The ones who truly care about you are glad you are under Yves's supervision.

However, if you were just lucid enough, you would question how Yves knew that you wanted a blanket from your heavy slurring, how he knew that you wanted to be hugged at that very moment by just watching you blink, how he knew what hurts by an incomprehensible grumble.

A few times, you did catch yourself realizing that you may have been completely unintelligible in verbalizing your wants. Still, he gave you exactly what you needed before you could correct yourself.

You always look forward to meal times, as he would never fail to whip up something delicious yet nutritious enough; packed chock full of vitamins, and minerals to your healing process. The best part was that he would spoon-feed you while sitting on his lap, it's ridiculously comfortable and you felt like absolute royalty. Strangely and fortunately for you, it never once felt degrading or patronizing. At most, you felt heavily nostalgic and had a strong sense of sadness that you couldn't conjure up an idea as to why. But it would all ebb away with every spoonful Yves fed you or every kiss he gave to show his appreciation for your cooperation.

Yves wouldn't allow you to use your phone or watch the television, he wouldn't allow anything in his house to emit too bright of a light. Which you were grateful for since it reduces the pain dramatically, and he would keep you fully engaged by reading stories from his library. They're always so exhilarating to hear as the protagonists always possess a wonderful personality that closely matches yours, allowing you to immerse yourself in whatever whimsical and fantastical world of his storybook. His smooth, baritone voice lulled you to sleep more times than you can count, letting you continue the story in your dreams.

Sometimes, you want to experience that particular story again, so you would pick up the book Yves read from. Only to find that its' pages are seemingly filled with illegible graphite chicken scratch. Asking him about it will lead him to tell you he wrote each and every single one of those pieces, they're all based on your proudest achievements and your life journey.

When Yves promised that he would take care of you to the fullest, he meant it. He wouldn't allow you to shower on your own, nor did he let you stand too long. He prepared a stool for you to sit on as streams of warm water washed over your nude body, Yves would roll his sleeves up and clean you up while you merely remained there in a daze; you didn't have to do anything, Yves would work up a lather on your hair and massage your scalp, he would gently scrub your skin with his smooth hands and apply an impossibly long list of skincare products that leaves your skin happy and glowing.

Yves is rarely apart away from you when you're this needy. And he enjoys it, savoring every second he spends with you. Yves would take his time styling your hair, stroking it, and collecting any strands you may have shed for data. Applying hair oil and caring for your body, he wouldn't have had the chance to do this when you're perfectly healthy, as you would either get too uncomfortable, bored, or too busy for him to do this for you.

In many ways, this accident was a blessing in disguise. For you to make up for all the missed bonding times with him; it's not that Yves is elated with you being severely concussed, but he isn't too upset over it either.

"Is this the color you want for your base?" He asked, ensuring his voice wasn't above the volume threshold. Yves brought up a bottle of nail polish in your favorite color.

You gave him a thumbs up, as nodding can cause you pain.

"What design would you like?" Yves continued asking, putting the polish away so he could begin to prep your fingernails. He had your hand limply resting on a towel draped over his thigh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but it was gibberish and garbled. But you were so used to talking like this and your brain is still healing from the damage, that you couldn't tell something was wrong.

Yves merely hummed in response while he skillfully pushed your cuticles in, they were softened by some cuticle oil he applied earlier. He needed no extra enlightenment even though you spoke in a tongue that no human could ever comprehend easily, Yves already knew what you wanted. He only asked that to give you an illusion of control.

You relaxed to the soothing music playing in the background while Yves continued with his manicure on you, skillfully using his tools to create intricate works of art on your nails. It's amazing how he could do that with laser precision in dim light.

Perhaps you tried holding a conversation with him, and you did. Albeit one-sided, Yves seemingly responds to your words normally as if he truly understood. But he was actually doing some very complex "guesswork" that was apparently accurate all the time. However, if there is one thing for certain, he memorizes all the sounds that left your mouth and movements you made no matter how random or unnecessary.

If thinks that you're getting too under-stimulated, he will recite one of the many stories he wrote for you to listen to and immerse yourself in. Yet, he wouldn't get distracted, continuing his work with elegance and expertise.

You were mesmerized by how he would hold his brush, how he would administer a graceful stroke, and how he would do the details of such an impossibly beautiful masterpiece.

You smiled and cheered when you saw your nails, all that there was left for you to do was wait for the polish to dry. The corners of his lips were also pulled up into a pleased grin, feeling absolutely delighted to see you beaming like that. He couldn't resist pecking you on the apples of your cheeks, as he might accidentally squeeze you out of his cuteness aggression if he didn't at least expel some of it.

He cleaned up after himself and put the items away. You were still giddy over your nails and he was in joy too. Yves then sat right next to you, resting his head on your shoulder and letting his silky, jet-black hair tickle you in the nose.

Yves closed his eyes and relaxed at the sound of your heavenly giggles, nuzzling his head further into the side of your neck to keep the playfulness alive. He would occasionally litter your shoulder with kisses too.

Eventually, the atmosphere calms back down to a gentle lull, where you would be lying on his lap as Yves runs his fingers through your hair. A soft smile graced his face as he watched you stare at his artwork, feeling flattered and honored that you liked it.

Yves always knew the potential of himself enjoying the aftermath of such a tragedy happening to you was there. But he didn't anticipate that he loved it this much. As bad as it sounds, Yves is unwilling to think about the time when you will inevitably heal and leave him alone all over again to live your life.

His smile faltered a bit thinking how you're most likely going to go back to that theatre to work again, cutting the time that he's used to have with you short by a drastic amount. He is going to miss tender moments like these so awfully...

Yves paused when he noticed that you drifted into slumberland, softly breathing as your lips were slightly parted and drool running down the sides of your mouth. Yves chuckled a bit as he wiped them away with his thumb.

He blinked as he thought about the situation at hand even more.

You are such a strong, resilient person, who endured far worse than a measly headache. And it seems like your recovery process isn't too agonizing for you to bear, you're fine.

And, you would definitely be fine if Yves extended that duration for a few more weeks; he needs to make sure that you're fully healed before allowing you to go back into the real world. You would also be fine to consume a bit more sugar than usual, he knows you better than yourself.

Yves brought your hands and grazed his fingertips against your nails to see if it was fully dried. They were, and he gave them each a kiss.

The next few hours were spent with Yves watching you sleep, his green eyes were unblinkingly trained on you.

[youhavelessproof]

What are your favorite jaydick tropes/genres/AUs? Mine are sparring as foreplay, Bruce-centric and/or Bruce-drama, and unconventional soulmate marks (ex: Jason's death and/or resurrection cause the marks to disappear prematurely, come in late, etc.)

first of all, oh my god thank you for asking this. <3

I absolutely adore protective Jay. especially in the context of all the shit Bruce has done to Dick. like yeah Dick could kick Bruce’s ass, and he has before, but he still hasn’t processed that Bruce is terrible to him and I love when Jason finds out and goes ballistic. (I also love protective Dickie, but I love Dick whump with my whole soul.)

I really love domestic Jaydick too. Dick is such a housewife. he deserves to indulge with it more. (yes I believe Jason would be the better cook but Dick can canonically cook and also we’ve seen him do house chores multiple times in the comics.)

Dick reclaiming his life with Jason as a rebellious figure and he pushes Dick to be his own person? mwah. love it. especially if it includes Jason learning what Bruce’s favorite actually means. how Dick can’t be less than perfect and Bruce wants to control literally everything about his life.

as I’ve talked about before, I love love love Dick and Jay dealing with their mommy/daddy issues together. not even always sexually. (though them dealing with it sexually is one of my favorites.) also Dick working through his sexual trauma with Jay is so good. the boy needs it.

I don’t even know if this has been written before but I love the concept of Jay expecting him and Dick to have to figure out what to do because they’re clearly both doms, (Dick is such a control freak,) but then he finds out Dick is the biggest sub to ever sub. (Dick and Jason can both be dom/sub in my mind depending on the story and kinks, but this is just such a fun idea.)

AU-wise I cannot lie I am an omegaverse bitch until I die. I love omega Dick with alpha or omega Jason. dynamic reveals when Dick was not know to be an omega is a very tasty trope but I also like it when Jason is an alpha and underestimates him and Dick proves him wrong ten times over. (stupidly capable Dick my love. <3) also love Dick learning to give into his omegan instincts and wants because Jason is safe.

anything with pregnant Dickie too.

god I could talk more. I love these two and love so many things with them I definitely forgot some of my favorites.

they. ❤️💙

[caruliaa]

yk i think like. im trying desperately not to depress people around me w how close to doomerism i can veer but like. at a certain point its like. the effort and exhaustion that goes into maintaining just being alive in this world is not worth what comes from being alive and like. girlies we may have reached it. el oh el.

[pinktyler]

No offense but the us is so baffling to me

[hecksupremechips]

Shinjiro Aragaki 🤝 Rebecca Gales

Mom friends who constantly try telling others how they should live their lives and believe they know what’s best for everyone else who would explode and die if anyone did the same to them

[lilithland]

ok but like imagine you were tricked into being the office fuckdoll for a night 🙈

you’re brand new to the office and get invited to the office christmas party last second

you accept not knowing the last person to accept the offer has to be entertainment for the night

you get there and are immediately manhandled by a strong male coworker

before you can really begin to struggle and fight back you’re tied down to a table

you’re forcefully stripped naked

everyone can see your pussy absolutely dripping and making a mess

you go to cry but your panties are stuffed in your mouth

it starts with people groping your tits

caresses and squeezes turn to painful pinching and twisting

people start exploring your fuck hole

at first people just give you a rub here and there, some just collecting your girl juices to taste for themselves

one woman temporarily removes your panties to force her fingers down your throat, making you taste your own girl juice

then people start inserting things into your needy hole

you get fingered over and over again, the people fucking you barely acknowledge your presence, chit chatting with other party guests as if you aren’t there, you leak even more

someone forces a beer bottle into your cunt, they rub your clit and force you to have cummies around the bottle

the bottle catches some of your girl cum, you’ve never been more humiliated

then people start pumping your inferiority hole with cocks

at first the men pull out to finish on your tits and your thighs but then they start shooting their hot sperm inside you

the panties in your mouth prevent you from screaming that you’re not on birth control

some of the men grunt filth about breeding your fuck hole anyway, as if they know they can impregnate you

your panties are ripped from your mouth as people begin forcing you to perform oral

cocks and pussies alike take turns sitting on your face, men and women alike forcing you to lick their dirty assholes

at this point though you’ve accepted you’re nothing more than a cumdump

someone starts using the cum from your pussy to lube up your ass, you’re too distracted with the fat cock down your throat and someone pinching your nipples to notice

you can’t even scream when your asshole is r4ped in one swift go by the fattest cock you’ve ever felt in your life

by the end of the night everyone in the office has had their fair share of you, at one point you had 4 dicks inside of you

you had so many cummies and squirtys you lost track, truly being fucked dumb by the end of the night

all of your holes were used, abused, and puffy, you were absolutely covered in cum and you were sure you’d be leaking even more for days

the office had turned you in to their perfect bimbo slut doll

the next time you go into work your tits are hanging out of your blouse and your skirt is so short everyone can see your bare pussy underneath

you understand your new role at the office

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley Imagines List

Before you ask, yes I been meaning to use @ave661 renders ever since she posted the Dad!Ghost part 2. Did I use most of them in this post? You know damn well I did.

Did I put in so much work into this one post? Yes. Am I going to be upset if it doesn't do as well as the ones I didn't put much effort in (Ahem the quokka Price imagine)? Also yes.

Tagging people who I think would like this: @puff0o0, @blingblong55. Honestly that was it but if y'all wanna be tagged in the next post then tell me in the replies :)

Parings: Ghost x Wife!Reader

❥ Dad!Simon who values nothing else over spending time with you and your child, even if it's something as simple as him and your little one laying down on your lap while you watch tv together. (Top left pic 🥺)

❥ Dad!Simon who gives the baby a bath for the first time, doing his best not to get soap in their eyes. Him rubbing the baby's head gently with his thumb to wash the suds off the little one's head and hair while they look up at him and coo.

❥ Dad!Simon who had a heart attack the moment he heard the baby cough while they're still in the baby bath net. He just turned away for a second to grab the towel behind him, the one moment he took his eyes off them, the little rascal tried to drink the bath water.

❥ Dad!Simon who's ever so gentle with dressing the baby, they're too little and too fragile in his eyes. Watching the baby try to chew on their own fist while he puts their little socks on. (Matching skeleton mittens for the little baby 🥺)

❥ Dad!Simon who loves hearing his baby let out such loud giggles whenever he kisses them, it's music to his ears to hear his little one let out such a hearty laugh, their little arms and legs flailing because their face is being tickled by his stuble.

❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely adores when his baby attempts kissing him or you (their momma) because it's basically just them having their tiny hands on his or your face while they're open-mouthed and almost headbutting their little lips on either yours or your husband's face.

❥ Dad!Simon who absolutely love nap time, mainly because he takes the naps with them. Nothing more sweet than waking up with the little one's life you two brought to this world.

❥ Dad!Simon who you found awake in the middle of the night to put the baby back down to sleep.

"Come on now pumpkin, you should let your momma rest. She's extremely tired of taking care of both of us.." Simon whispers while he cradles the baby in his arms, trying to lull them back to sleep.

You couldn't help but smile, knowing that what you do doesn't go unappreciated.

"I would never get tired taking care of you two" You said in a hushed tone, making Simon's head snap to the doorway.

To see you, his loving wife look at him as if he was the most important thing in this world reminded him if why he wanted to marry you a few years back.

❥ Dad!Simon who receives a video you sent him while he's deployed of the baby waking up from a nap.

❥ Dad!Simon who doesn't notice you in the room while you were trying to collect laundry, he was working out, you caught him doing push ups and your baby's attempts in copying their dad.

❥ Dad!Simon who bought the baby a little stuffie that they now are emotionally attached to and bring everywhere, yeah the baby constantly signals Simon to kiss the stuffie too.

❥ Dad!Simon who had to train Riley not to lick the baby so much because dog slobber and even though Riley was well behaved, poor thing didn't have much of a self-control the first time you guys brought the baby home.

❥ Dad!Simon who thinks it's absolutely adorable that his little one likes Riley so much.

"Dada!" The baby called out for Simon.

"Dada, Ri-ley" They said, pointing out a little finger to your family dog.

"Yeah pumpkin, that's Riley" Simon said, letting the little one make a beeline and waddled quickly towards Riley, giving the dog a hug with their tiny arms.

❥ Dad!Simon who spends forever looking for the skull part of his mask only to find the baby trying to chew on it, couldn't really blame them because the sight was cute and he knew how agitated they were with teething.

❥ Dad!Simon who constantly washed his gloves and almost never took it off during your baby's teething stage because god they were a strong biter. The gloves helped cushion the pain of the bites a lot.

❥ Dad!Simon who swore his heart was about to burst when he saw you and the baby meet him before he was able to go home after deployment for a surprise. (Of course Price was the one who set it up, he wanted to see his grandchild (might as well be)

"Dadadada–dada—da" Your baby squealed out while reaching out, recognizing Simon almost too fast even with the mask on.

"Pumpkin," Simon says as he takes your baby out of your arms and into his "–yeah, dada's here now. Missed me like I missed you?" Simon asks the baby as if they could actually respond.

The little one let out a happy little gurgle, hands reaching out for Simon's face.

"I'll take that as a yes" Simon tenderly kisses the top of the baby's head through his balaclava.

❥ Dad!Simon who loves baby hugs, the tiny little arms providing a bit of warmth while he holds his baby in his, rubbing their little head with his gloved hand and fingers.

Taskforce interacting with little Ghostie

[starcurtain]

2.1 Penacony Spoilers!

I know the scene after Ratio's "betrayal" can be read a lot of ways but I am shocked I haven't seen more people interpret it as Ratio being so worried about Aventurine that he couldn't stay away even though he was supposed to.

We know:

1) Ratio absolutely knew Aventurine's plan from start to finish, both his gamble to create "death" in the dream and with the three cornerstones. (Wish people would stop underselling Ratio in their analyses; "Three chips are enough" is a direct enough clue that, genius as he is, Ratio would never miss.)

2) In his own words, Ratio was acting according to Aventurine's instructions while in Dewlight Pavilion and with Sunday and felt that he did a good job not giving them away.

I think most people are on the same page up to there, but then I've seen a lot of people interpreting this scene after Aventurine leaves Sunday's mansion as Aventurine being genuinely angry at Ratio (possibly after having gaslit himself into thinking Ratio was actually betraying him).

But this doesn't make much sense to me because:

1) Ratio actually has nothing to gain by selling Aventurine out to Sunday. They're on the same side in this mission. Information about a Stelleron on Penacony wouldn't be news anyone with a brain like Ratio's and why would he need someone else's research on Stellerons when he already has ties to the Genius Society through Screwllum and Herta, as well as the Astral Express where the Trailblazer is actively housing a Stelleron?

2) One of Aventurine's most notable lines of dialogue is how it's perfectly fine and expected for "friends" to use each other and backstab. This is his default understanding of partners--why would he suddenly be mad about something he expected from the start?

3) If the betrayal wasn't already planned and was just a possibility based on Aventurine's understanding of Ratio, why would he ever have revealed there were "three chips" (aka three cornerstones) in play? If even the betrayal over Topaz's stone wasn't planned, just assumed, why would Aventurine reveal the existence of the third stone? He would gain nothing from doing so.

Instead, I think it makes a lot more sense to interpret Aventurine's frustration with Ratio in this later scene as annoyance over Ratio taking an "unnecessary" risk:

1) As far as Sunday knows, Ratio had just very seriously betrayed Aventurine, completely selling him out and essentially sending him to his execution.

2) In the scene afterward, Aventurine is out in public in the middle of Penacony where The Family's eyes are always watching, yet Ratio walks right up to him to check on him. Why would someone who just sold you out come up to you immediately afterward to check on your health?!

3) It's only natural that Aventurine would pump the brakes and go "Wow, didn't think you'd show yourself after you just betrayed me, remember?" Because that's the act they are supposed to be keeping up! They're still being monitored; it's not safe to break character!

But Ratio is a genius, right, so why would he break character here? From the standpoint of the ploy itself, revealing to the Family that he and Aventurine were still on the same side would only jeopardize the plan, not help it.

The logical explanation, then, is that Ratio went to Aventurine here because he felt like he had to.

He had to check in and make sure the situation was still under Aventurine's control.

(In fact, the entire exchange through the middle of this scene is Aventurine and Ratio confirming the rest of their plot in a veiled manner: Ratio brings up the plan and mentions what's concealed in the gift money bag, Aventurine confirms the cornerstone is good to go; Ratio asks what his next step will be; Aventurine says he's going to do the insane thing of handing out cash while looking pathetic [aka fishing for Sparkle]. Ratio essentially asks if he's crazy enough to take the final gamble with his own life, which Aventurine confirms, and then Ratio sets them up for the finale by gifting him the doctor's note.)

Ratio was willing to risk ruining their entire plan--something Aventurine does seem to be frustrated about at first--just to ensure Aventurine still felt all right about the situation.

He needed to deliver his note demanding Aventurine stay alive.

He needed to tell Aventurine to come to him if the situation got too painful to bear.

In short, Ratio was worried enough that he could not stay away even though, for the sake of their plot, it would have made significantly more sense for him not to appear. The gain of breaking character was worth more to him than the risk of being caught.

You honestly don't even have to take this in a shipping context. The real point here is that Ratio is an incredibly good person who wasn't okay with Aventurine's self-sacrificial plan and who felt morally compelled to check on a person in pain. He's a healer through and through, and ignoring Aventurine in this condition--ignoring someone who was taking so much risk on themselves--simply wasn't possible for him, no matter the danger it posed to the plan.

But for those who do ship Ratio and Aventurine... I hope more people will come to see this scene as another example of Ratio's genuine concern for his mission partner! He did not have to appear here at all; it would have made much more sense for him to leave Aventurine to his own devices to uphold the illusion of their "betrayal." He showed up in this scene--very likely against Aventurine's expectations--because he was concerned for Aventurine's situation and wanted to ensure Aventurine knew he could fall back on Ratio's support at any time if the plan went awry.

tl;dr: I wish people would stop interpreting this scene as the aftermath of a betrayal. Aventurine wasn't ticked off with Ratio in this scene because he felt like he'd genuinely been backstabbed; he was ticked off because Ratio was literally breaking their pre-established "betrayer" character just to be fussy over Aventurine's safety and well-being. (Okay, and to double check on the plan, but let's be real, the first part was definitely more important. 👌)

[dollwrites]

ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!bff!reader, sex toys mentioned but not used, noise control, dub con technically ( for him… kinda TRUST THE PROCESS ) prank gone wrong for reader lol, creampie, has absolutely no spoilers or deep lore, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. HAPPY 4/20! i was gonna do some dizzy drabbles but i couldn’t get this out of my head. not proofread ( and written when i was in the clouds ) so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

what had started out as a fun prank on your best friend for revenge ended with you completely at his mercy, unbeknownst to him.

picking up around the studio wasn’t something you did too often, considering it a breach of Rafayel’s privacy, but when you got there and he wasn’t home, you let yourself inside like you usually did. you were about an hour early, anyways. you hadn’t taken two steps when you stumble over a pile of crumpled sketch paper. you scrunched your brows as you gazed around your environment. scattered brushes, broken pencils, and a canvas half-painted in the middle of the floor. you sighed; perhaps Rafayel had hit a wall with his muse and had gone for a walk on the beach. the least you could do for him, you’d decided, was to clean up a bit. after all, a clean space is a productive space, right?

that was when you came across it, left carelessly on his bed, swaddled in a sea of white sheets and the comforter. you’d never seen one in real life until this moment, and at first you mistook it for a woman asleep in his bed with her butt sticking out of the blankets— but, it was fake. a plump, nearly life sized ass sitting atop the mattress.

does Rafayel really use something like this?

you found your cheeks heated up with embarrassment when you pictured him mounting it, both of his smooth palm against the cheeks, svelte digits digging into the silicone to spread it open wide enough for him to push inside…

shaking your head to snap yourself out of the fantasy, you look around, making sure no one was around to see you get lost in your own desire for him. “S—stupid.” you muttered to yourself, stepping closer to touch the fleshiest part of it. surprisingly soft, as soft as your own skin. your brow quirks, fingers sliding to the waistband of a pair of cerulean, lace panties that adorned the faux lower body. it seemed so strange to have clothes on something that was meant to stay hidden and used in private, as if the silicone slab had been laid out meticulously…

no, Rafayel didn’t use this for his own pleasure, you decided. this was a prank. an elaborate one, but one meant to fluster you when you came over.

he was such an ass!

“Oh yeah?” you challenge under your breath, grasping the panties and tugging them off of the toy, “You want to play games? I can play, too.” determined to outprank Rafayel, you toss the panties on the bed and stash the toy beneath the bed. it was surprisingly heavy, and made a splat when it hit the surface of the floor, you had to stifle a chuckle as just hilarious this was. you didn’t want him to win, even if he wasn’t there to see it. quickly unbuttoning your pants, you discard them and the panties you were wearing, kicking them under the bed, too. then, you grab the cerulean lace and pull them on— perfect fit! you took a moment to glance in a nearby mirror, turning slightly. your ass had a similar curve and complexion, and you hoped it was enough to fool him, at least long enough for you to scare him when he least expected it. then, you climb into the bed, scrupulous as you nest your top half under a pile of blankets, the pillows resting on the top of your shoulders to hide your head. there was also the issue with your legs. it took a great amount of wrapping sheets around your thighs as you kick and squirm, before you’re finally perfectly positioned— identical to the way he’d left the fake ass, your own sticks out as if inviting him, as you wait for him to return.

at first, it had been difficult to keep yourself from jittering, too excited to see the look on his face when you jump out, effectively one-upping his lewd joke. but, as the minutes ticked on, with your entire body hidden within his bedding, you’d started to sweat, breathing in the dense air trapped under the pillows with you, and you had to readjust several times. it took so long that you were just about to give up on the prank and unbury yourself, before you heard the door open.

showtime.

you felt knots of excitement tying themselves together in your belly as you willed yourself to be as still as possible, and appear as the lifeless, silicone toy.

you could hear him moving about the studio, sighing, and your heart was starting to beat faster in your ears— you hoped that he would hurry to his room, so you could reveal yourself soon, and you could get out from under this suffocating duvet.

when he’d stepped into the bedroom, you hear the door close behind him, and you have to physically keep yourself from kicking your feet in excitement. it was almost time to scare the living daylights out of your best friend. your muscles tighten, ready to jump up, but a sound abruptly stops you.

a zipper.

you freeze, listening silently to the sound of rusting fabric. soft thuds as he kicked out of his shoes, and a whoosh that follows towards the floor.

was he undressing?

your eyes widen only when you hear a heavy breath, followed by the click of a cap. squeezing, then a low moan coming from behind you. it was Rafayel. your eyes widen. you’d never heard such a sound from his mouth, and you had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. the subtle skin slapping that started slow, but sped up shortly after, his breath getting heavier simultaneously. you realized how wrong it was to hear Rafayel pleasuring himself, especially when he didn’t know that you were there. you should really say something, open your mouth and let him know that he wasn’t alone, but when your lips parted, you couldn’t force any sound from it. you were too stunned by these sounds to give him any kind of warning. you listen, mouth agape and eyes big, staring into the headboard of his bed as he takes a few steps towards the foot of it. your mind races, realizing that he had not placed the toy on his bed for you to find it—

this had not been a toilet-humor prank that he was putting together. he simply hadn’t had the time to hide his private toys before you stumbled upon them.

to solidify this revelation, you feel one hand tracing over the shape of your ass. his fingers were warm and slick, and you nearly gasped, sealing your lips just in time for his digits to curl around the panties and tug on them, inching down your thighs. he would definitely discover you were disguising yourself as the toy when he couldn’t take them all the way off, and that thought was equally humiliating and comforting. you didn’t exactly love the idea of him finding out now, after exposing your cunt to him, and now that you’d gotten an earful of him jerking off, but at least things wouldn’t go further. Rafayel doesn’t, however, try to pull the panties down completely. instead, he seems content to leave them around your thighs, and his fingers trace upwards, slowly and skillfully, until they trace your netherlips, slathering your sex in what had to be lube, cool and wet.

oh, god. your top teeth sink into your lower lip as his fingertips swipe full laps between your folds. the pads rub against your most sensitive nub, leaving it throbbing and begging for more attention before they drag downwards, teasing your opening. he didn’t seem to notice that your cunt spasms, attempting to clamp down on his fingers, before they run another lap. he lets out a heavy breath, the sound of his palm smacking against his abdomen as he fucks his own hand in tandem to the way he was unknowingly teasing your pussy making your head spin.

this was so wrong.

you had to tell him right now.

your tiers part once more, this time determined to stop this before—

the swollen, slippery head of Rafayel’s cock rubs against your slit. one hand covers your mouth to keep any sound, words or otherwise, from escaping as you realize that it’s too late to expose yourself now. you’d look like a total creep, taking advantage of your best friend by pretending to be his sex toy. “Huh—uhh…” Rafayel emitted a low moan as he rubbed his dick against you a few more times, before planting one palm on your ass, the other holding tight to his base as he plunged inside.

it took all you had within you to not let out a cry of surprise at the sudden entry. your free hand grips the sheet so tightly you fear your nails will rip holes in it, and your toes curl beneath the mattress. Rafayel had been under the impression that he could be as rough as he wanted, because the pussy was nothing but a silicone replica, and so his rhythm was steady, deep pumping almost immediately upon bottoming out in your guts. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hips thumping against your ass, both hands grasping at it. “F—feels good… yeah,”

he was right about that, and you wished you could vocalize it. your walls fluttered about in delight as he pounded into you, his cock was longer than you’d thought it would be, the tip bold in its deep exploration, prodding against your g-spot with every, full thrust of his hips. you fought the urge to bounce back, meet his movements with equally eager grinding. instead, your eyes began to roll and your lids flittered, and the grip on your own mouth tightened to keep any of your stifled mewls and whimpers from escaping. you couldn’t, however, keep from gushing when he hit the perfect depth with his fervent stroking, and you could only hope that his thorough drenching you in lubrication would be enough to mask this.

you could hear him panting, moaning, swearing, as he fucked you with reckless abandon. his fingers digging into your warm, satin skin, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you. it was as if you felt every, single vein as they rub your walls, autographing your insides, claiming them as his as he uses you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…!”

he was getting louder, his hips bucking more powerfully, more erratically, and the throbbing in your core was a testament to just how close to cumming he was.

you knew how wrong this was, but all rational thinking was dissipating; you were enjoying being fucked like this; greedy, careless pounding, by your closest friend too much to ruin it, now. you didn’t want to stop it, not until he was fully satiated.

“F—fuck, yeah,” Rafayel swoons, grabbing full fists of your ass, pulling your ass back to meet his hungry hip-snapping, “more, more, more!”

you couldn’t take much more, and you push your face into the mattress to keep quiet, both hands scrambling to hold on to something, squeezing the edge of the mattress with your nails sinking in— anything to relieve the pressure he was forcing as deep into you as he could. your feet wanted to kick, your back wanted to arch, and you wanted to scream out in pure pleasure, so you clung to the bed as tightly as you could in hopes that you could ride out the orgasm he was ripping from you.

he didn’t even seem to notice your twitching and subtle squirming beneath the blankets as he made you drop off and come undone, which you were thankful for, because he was too caught up in chasing his own high. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Rafayel was sputtering, desperately trying to get there, pressing all of his weight against your ass as he pumps a few more, deep and hard, thrusts into you before he grunts, and releases. as if he’d been pent up for quite a while, you felt a spattering of warmth, and then it spreads as he fills your belly with his essence. you nearly lose it in this moment, and almost blow your cover, your walls clamping down on his cock as he starts to retract. it felt so good to be full of Rafayel that you didn’t want him to pull out, but he does so with a ragged moan. there’s an uncomfortable emptiness that follows his abandoning of your cunt, the feeling of being fucked deep and left there, your oblivious best friend’s cum dribbling out of your used pussy as it twitches and your muscles stay tense. you knew you were leaving a small puddle on his sheets below you, but you could hear him milling around the room instead of focusing on you, now.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, and you his phone unlock, then the rapid-fire tapping of his fingers on the keys. was he… texting?

you were answered when you heard the faint vibrating of your phone in your pants pocket, hidden under the bed. he texted you?! at first, you think he must’ve heard it, because everything went silent, and you waited for him to start shouting, but he doesn’t.

a few moments later, the door opens, and his footsteps fade as he swaggers down the corridor, satiated, and a moment later, you hear the shower turn on.

for the first time in several minutes, your muscles relax for a moment, before you swim out from your heated prison in a hurry, scrambling under the bed to grab your phone. every move you made, you could feel his release swirling around inside you and dribbling down your thighs, and you groan at the sensation, and the trail you made before you pulled the panties up to keep any more from leaving evidence. staring at the screen, panting and fucked out, your eyes barely focusing, you read the message in disbelief.

just woke up so i’m running late. stop on the way and buy lunch or something i’m starving

liar.

but you didn’t have time to dwell on the message; you get dressed as quickly as you can, what with your legs trembling like shaken jelly and your insides sore from Rafayel’s eager plowing, and hoist the fake butt back into place on top of the bed. you had to make a stealthy exit before he got out of the shower. stuffing your own panties into your pocket, you decide the best way to avoid an even stickier mess on his floor that would certainly be noticeable, you had to wear the panties meant for the doll. you could only pray he didn’t realize they’d gone missing right away, and later today when you could sneak away to the bathroom, you’d put them back in place.

so, stumbling and trying to catch your breath, freshly fucked, you leave through the sliding back door, the one that faces the shoreside, and closes it behind you to complete your escape.

once outside, you exhale deeply, lean against his car, hidden from windows’ views, to evaluate the damage, beyond the mess of him in your panties. you groan, covering your face with both hands in belated guilt.

you could never, ever tell him about this!

[incognit0slut]

The breaking point

Part 2 of Beyond the Limit (can also be read as a standalone)

Spencer realizes that being dominant doesn’t always require him to be rough, especially when he has complete control over your body.

warnings: (18+, MDNI) soft dom spence because there’s a lot of praising in this one, reader in lingerie, orgasm control or edging, overstimulation, reader gets cockdrunk (idk how to explain it better), a little cockwarming at the end

Words: 4,3k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a while and i finally finished it, i don’t usually do a part two for my oneshots but…i’m actually tempted to do more

You were a tease—a goddamn tease. Spencer knew he needed to work on his self-control, but it was hard to keep his composure when you had the ability to stir desire within him. It was perplexing, given that there was a time when thoughts of anything remotely sexual never even crossed his mind.

For the majority of his life, intimacy had been a foreign concept. While he occasionally felt a pang of jealousy witnessing everyone around him find love, he managed just fine without it.  He suspected it was partly a defense mechanism, channeling his focus toward other aspects of his life—such as his mother's health, for example—to avoid dwelling on what he lacked.

But then all his beliefs shattered when you came crashing into his life. Suddenly, everything he thought he knew about himself was thrown away. Your presence sparked a fire within him that he never knew existed and he found himself craving the intimacy he had once dismissed as unnecessary.

He wasn't even aware of how touch-starved he was until he met you, and now it was hard to maintain that last thread of self-control he possessed. It wasn't that he didn't want to give in, but rather, he feared the intensity of his own desires, afraid that he might enjoy it more than he anticipated.

Because did he have to be rough with you for him to be satisfied, now that he had once known how it felt like? But how could he indulge in such temptation when you looked so utterly beautiful right now, so delicate, so precious in his eyes?

How could he even fathom ruining your perfection with roughness?

"Spence?" You nervously asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Your confidence was starting to dissipate as his eyes slowly traveled down your body, taking in the lingerie you chose to surprise him. Although this was not the reaction you were hoping for. "Do you not... like it?"

Spencer's gaze lingered on you, his expression was unreadable for a moment before a warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"No, no, it's not that," he reassured you, putting down the book he had been reading on the bedside table before you walked into your shared bedroom. He reached his hand out, motioning you to come closer. "It's just... you caught me off guard, that's all."

You approached him cautiously and as you stepped closer, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing, replaced by a soft warmth in his eyes. His hand found its place on your waist, drawing you closer and you instinctively fell on his lap, your knees dipping onto the bed on each side of his thighs.

Feeling his arousal right between your legs, you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. "So you do like it," you murmured, a hint of satisfaction lacing your words.

"Like it? Sweetheart, that's an understatement," he replied. His calloused palms traveled along your sides as he took in the way the lace material hugged your curves.

The lilac-colored lingerie set on your body accentuated your figure perfectly. Both pieces were see-through, granting him a glimpse of your chest and lower region. The delicate edges of the top were adorned with more of the soft fabric, cascading over your stomach and back in a gentle, stunningly pretty way.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered as he traced the intricate patterns of the fabric with his fingertips. "Absolutely breathtaking."

His touch sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into him, relishing the warmth and tenderness of his touch as one of his hands moved up your arm before resting behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

His lips touched yours gently, sending a thrill coursing through your body. He nipped at your bottom lip, his touch both teasing and tender and as he sucked on it softly, a low moan escaped you. He then deepened the kiss, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, and you kissed him back eagerly, your lips moving in perfect sync with his.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, but he didn't stop giving you attention. His mouth made its way down to your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. He then sucked on the spot below your ear, his lips creating a deliciously pleasurable sensation that made you moan softly in response.

You could feel his smile against your skin as he continued to travel further down, his lips leaving a trail of heat along your neck and collarbone. At the same time, his fingers pulled down the strap of your lingerie top, the material gracefully falling down your body, revealing more of your skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered as if it was the first time he laid his eyes on you, even if the two of you lost count long ago. His name slipped from your lips the moment his wide palms were pressed to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and your nipples hardened beneath his touch.

Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and your breathing quickened in response when his thumb traced over your sensitive peak, sending electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Spencer watched the way your eyes widened with desire, his own filled with a hunger that mirrored yours. And when he leaned closer, wrapping his soft lips around it, you were instantly gone.

The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, eliciting the most sinful sound you weren't even aware of making. It was like music to his ears, fueling his desire to please you even more. He continued to suck on your skin, giving the same attention to each breasts, his movements growing more fervent with each passing moment.

When he felt your hips bucking against his, he let out a low, guttural groan of pleasure. He softly drew back your nipple, your supple skin following his pull before he released it with a soft pop. Your skin glistened from his saliva, and honestly, Spencer had never seen such a splendid sight before.

The way you were grinding against him over his cotton pants frantically sent a surge of desire coursing through his veins. He could feel the thin fabric of your sheer panties pressing between your cunt, and with each movement, he could see glimpses of soft, bare skin glistening under the light, driving him wild with longing.

A primal need surged within him, a need to devour you, to lose control and indulge in the raw intensity. He craved to run his rough hands along your body, to explore every inch of your skin and claim you as his own. But he couldn't—not when you were the one in control as you sought pleasure in the way your hips moved against his.

So instead, his hands found purchase on your hips, guiding you to move faster. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Keep going."

You obeyed, pressing your aching heat against his cock, rolling your hips rapidly as a whimper of his name escaped you. You felt yourself growing hot and needy, your arousal dripping through your panties to coat his flesh beneath you, soaking through fabrics.

"Look at how wet you are," he mused, his voice laced with desire as he observed your flushed state and the evidence of your arousal staining the fabric between you. "Does this feel good?"

Your only response was another desperate moan, your body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of being with him. What started lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

"I need to feel you," you breathed out quickly, and before he could register what was happening, your fingers were pulling down his pants frantically. Sensing your desperation, he was quick to push the fabric down as his cock sprung free.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you lift your hips above him, taking him by the base with one of your hands while the other pushed the material of your panties to the side. He groaned when you pressed the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. Spencer always made sure you were fully ready, either with his fingers or mouth—or even with your own fingers. But you were already wet enough, and you couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside you.

You nodded eagerly, the need for him overpowering any hesitation. "Please," you begged, your voice pleading and desperate. "I need you now."

Both of you watched in awe as his girth stretched your clenched walls, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelming your senses. It wasn't the first time this happened, but it felt like a new sensation each time, and you found yourself instinctively clenching around him, eager to feel him even deeper inside you.

"Fuck," you whimpered, allowing yourself a moment to adjust to his size. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as you squeezed yourself around him. With a slow, deliberate motion, you lifted your hips, feeling him ease out of you, only to lower yourself onto him again.

The sensation of him sliding back inside you made you gasp, a rush of pleasure washing over you as you took him deeper. His groan reverberated through your body, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. As his head fell back against the headboard, you couldn't help but whimper, the words tumbling from your lips without much thought.

"You fill me up so good," you confessed, your voice laced with desire as you rolled your hips against him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach clench underneath your fingertips with every upstroke of your hips. "Take this off, baby."

With a low growl of approval, Spencer complied, swiftly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. Without hesitation, your hands trailed over his chest, reveling in the sensation of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

He watched you intently, captivated by the raw display of pleasure that painted your features. The way your face twisted in ecstasy, the way your mouth hung open in silent gasps, the way your breasts bounced with every movement—all of it drove him to the edge of his self-control.

As you quickened your pace, he felt his restraint slipping away, the urge to claim you completely becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Each time you clenched around him, it became harder for him to hold back. And as always, you could tell. You could feel the tension in his grip on your hips, the way his fingers dug into your flesh with a possessive urgency.

You slowed your hips, bringing your hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "You're doing it again."

His gaze met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and frustration. He knew exactly what you were referring to. "I... I can't help it. You drive me crazy."

"I know that," you responded, stilling for a moment as you kept him buried deep inside you. "I just need you to do something about it."

He slowly shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," you assured him, your voice filled with confidence as you leaned closer, bumping your nose against him seductively. "Come on, I know how much you want to be in control."

When he didn't respond, you pushed him even further, your lips tantalizingly close to his as you whispered your seductive taunt.

"I know you want more," you teased. "Don't you want to take control? Lie me on my back and fuck me until I can't think anymore? Until I beg you to stop while you use my body over and over again?"

"Don't tempt me," he choked out, his voice thick with longing and restraint.

But you weren't finished yet. "Yeah?" you challenged, your tone daring as you buried your hand in his disheveled, sweaty hair. "Then I dare you to."

You tugged on his roots.

"Fuck me, Spencer." You nipped on his bottom lip. "Fuck me real good."

His breath caught in his throat at your bold words, his heart pounding rapidly. With a shaky exhale, he met your gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than ever before.

And then, in a sudden surge of boldness, he surprised you, flipping you onto your back as you let out an amused squeal. But your laughter was quickly drowned out by the heat of his lips crashing down on yours.

He kissed you feverishly, with a messy and desperate hunger that left you breathless. He clung onto you as if you were the very air he needed to survive. He was devouring you as if you were the most delicious meal he had ever encountered, and he savored every moment, every sensation, swallowing your desperate moans.

And then he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss but any hint of disappointment vanished as you watched him shed his last piece of clothing. Then with deliberate slowness, he reached for your panties, his eyes locked on yours as he dragged them up your leg, savoring the sight of the damp fabric clinging to your skin.

When he finally discarded it on the floor, he wasted no time in grabbing one of your legs. With deliberate tenderness, he began trailing soft kisses along the inner part of your thigh, each gentle press of his lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your breath quickened as you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I'm not going to be rough," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes never leaving yours as he planted soft kisses right at the edge of your drenching heat, teasingly close to where you craved him most. He then crawled over your body, settling himself between your legs, his gaze locked on yours.

"But I am going to use you," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "You'll let me do that, won't you?"

As he hovered above you, his weight supported by his arms, you watched a strand of his outgrown hair fall over his eyes. With a gentle touch, you reached out and tucked it behind his ear, a soft smile playing on your lips as you nodded in response.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me you're mine to use."

You met his gaze, your own eyes dark with longing and anticipation. "I'm yours," you whispered, and when you felt his tip pressing into your entrance once again, you gasped. "I-I’m yours to use."

In one swift motion, he filled you again with a hard thrust that had you arching your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you. "S-Spence..."

"Good girl," he praised, his words sending shivers down your spine as he kissed your cheek. His hips began to roll into you, setting a rhythm that drove you wild. "My good, pretty girl."

You whined in response, the sound music to his ears as he continued to thrust into you at a steady rhythm. He relished the way you responded to him, the way you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to use the way you were satisfied, to use the way you wanted him, to take you to the brink of ecstasy.

He wanted to use you in every way possible, to make you his in every sense of the word.

Spencer never considered himself a possessive person, but when it came to you, he wanted to be the one you surrendered to completely. And in this moment, he had never felt more in control. It was intoxicating, the power he held over you, the way you willingly gave yourself to him.

That was why when he felt you clenching around him, knowing you were so close to your peak, he stopped. He wanted to draw out this moment, to savor every sensation, every sound you made, every breath that escaped your lips. He wanted to draw out your pleasure until you were begging for release, until you were completely and utterly his.

"Why—" you gasped. "Why did you stop?"

He smiled down at you. "Because I want to make you feel good, Angel," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And I want to take my time doing it."

Your head fell back, and you couldn't help but bite your lip to suppress a moan. His use of the term Angel always had a way of melting your resolve, and you knew he was fully aware of the effect it had on you.

"Be patient," he chided before burying his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin gently. Then, he resumed moving his hips, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It felt incredible, but you couldn't shake the desire for him to fuck you harder.

"More," you cried out, feeling as if you were in a deep haze.

"Yeah? Spread your legs wider then."

You whimpered at his simple command, your shuddering legs gradually spreading a few inches wider. It was becoming harder to breathe from the way he was pushing you into the mattress, but you welcomed the pleasure, craving more of him.

Your hands clawed at his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks from your nails as you desperately sought something to hold onto. The intense pleasure coiled tightly in your gut, making you feel as if you were gasping for air while your head swam with overwhelming sensations.

Your moans became more fragmented with every stroke of his hips, your thoughts clouded by the pulsating ache between your legs. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation building within you, traveling along your body. You were so close—and then it stopped.

It simply stopped right at the edge, and you couldn't feel anything but a raw need. It was incredibly frustrating as you caught him smiling down at you. You whined and bucked your hips, chasing the tight warmth you had so suddenly been denied.

Your breath came out in short, ragged gasps. "You're evil," you managed to say, your voice trembling with need. "I-I was so close..."

"Too soon," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. "Just imagine how good it'll be once I finally let you come."

Spencer then slowly pulled away, his eyes tracing every detail of your trembling form—the way your mouth was slackened open, the way your hair sprawled across the sheets, the way your eyes fluttered closed yet struggled to remain open. He noticed them glistening with unshed tears, on the verge of falling, and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

He knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he couldn't help himself. He was simply using you, just like you asked him to. But seeing the tears welling in your eyes, a wave of tenderness washed over him, and he leaned down to kiss them away, whispering soft words of comfort.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured. Although his words were spoken softly, there was nothing gentle about the way he continued to fuck you. "You can take it. Hold on a little bit longer, I promise."

A choked sob escaped you as he pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, murmuring soothing words. One of his hands reached between you, settling on the lower part of your stomach before pressing down gently as he felt the outline of cock moving inside you. He let out a groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"That’s it, Angel," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "You're taking me so well."

You whimpered almost pathetically as everything started to blur. You were a sweaty mess, both of you were, his skin gliding along yours effortlessly as he continued to thrust into you. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, so sticky, so messy, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

The throbbing between your legs was starting to burn, but at the same time, it felt so good—the way he was stretching you, the way you could feel him moving in and out of you. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, it was all too much but also not enough.

"S-Spence..." you whined, your head spinning with pleasure, almost too delirious as drool seeped down the corner of your lips. "Pl-Please, I-I can't—"

A soft chuckle escaped him as he watched you struggle to form coherent words. "Alright, alright, I got you," he murmured reassuringly. "On three now. Can you be a good girl and come at the count of three?"

You nodded weakly. "Yes, yes," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths.

"That's my girl," he praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. "One..."

Your breath hitched as anticipation built within you. Obscene wet noises filled your ears as he continued to fuck you, and with each number, his thrusts grew more deliberate, more intense.

"Two..."

You whined and he swallowed your moans, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You couldn't form any coherent words. You couldn't even think. It was too fucking much and you were on the verge of your breaking point.

And then, on the final count, he drove into you with such force that it sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

"Three," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, a string of saliva connected your parted mouths.

You gasped, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure consumed you. Your senses overwhelmed, your vision blurred with white-hot intensity, and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the edge of overstimulation.

T-Too much—You can't. You fucking can't.

The sensation never seemed to end and you found yourself surrendering to it,  your mind going blank. It was as if you were intoxicated by the heady sensation, your senses dulled and heightened all at once, drunk on his touch. Your body felt so wet, so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax. 

And when you thought it couldn't get any more intense, he proved you wrong by rutting his hips even harder with so much force as he chased his own high. He tucked his head in your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he moaned into your ear. With a few final thrusts, he drove into you deeply, his body tensing as he released himself inside you.

You were tired, so overwhelmingly spent, and as you both came down from the high, you gasped and trembled, your body finally relaxing from the pent-up tension. Your eyes felt glassy and unfocused, blinking slowly as you registered his murmured praises against your neck and shoulder.

He gently pulled away, and you winced as you felt him still throbbing inside you. Slowly, he searched for your eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness, and sighed in relief when you looked up at him with a tired yet blissful smile on your lips.

He smiled softly, relieved by your response. "You're okay."

You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. "Hmm," you murmured, running your fingers along his damp hair. "I'm more than okay."

He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm so proud of you."

You giggled. "Me? I never thought you could be tempted to do that so easily."

He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. "You have that effect on me," he confessed. "Besides, it's hard to resist you."

"I am pretty irresistible, aren't I?"

"Absolutely," he replied as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. He shifted his weight and started to pull out, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in place.

"No, no," you pleaded. "Stay inside me for a while."

He paused, looking down at you with a smile. "We need to clean up."

"And we will." You ran a hand over his shoulder. "Just... give me five minutes."

He sighed, his resolve melting under your pleading gaze. "Alright, five minutes," he agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "But then we really need to clean up."

You responded with a soft hum, snuggling closer to him as he shifted toward the empty space on the bed. With a gentle gesture, he pulled you on top of him, enveloping you in his arms as you sprawled across his body. 

You let out a sigh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck with the rhythm of his heart beating against your own. And as you savored the sensation of him still pulsing inside you, you smiled peacefully—you have never felt so complete.

I'm tempted to turn this into a series of one-shots where he and Reader explore new kinks together... or like how they try to navigate their relationship. I'm really, really tempted.

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 2 || They're all... hot?

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & smut.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——GOJO'S LIPS FINALLY PRESS into yours. The pathetic hum that leaves you furthers your lingering feeling of embarrassment. Shame is overflowing you as Gojo's soft lips slide over your own. His hand is still around your neck and he won't allow you to move away from him for even a second.

The sensation of his lips parting over your own, your bottom lip getting caught and pulled by his teeth, and the abrupt entry of Gojo's tongue into your mouth has goosebumps rising against the surface of your skin. It's a slow kiss at first, Gojo takes his time licking at the corners of your mouth, taking in the taste of you and savoring the moment of you squirming slightly.

You feel shy as you kiss him back since it's been so long since you've last felt such a connection. His lips are like soft pillows against yours and his tongue is wet and warm in your mouth, a strong mint flavor noticeable as you make out with Gojo.

From your neck to your waist, Gojo moves his hand, soon guiding your smaller body closer to his. His hands are so big-- long and slim pale fingers pressing into the fabric of your small tank top as his mouth works over your own. Gojo's kisses are slow, and tender, almost like he wants to marinate into the feeling of your lips.

When he does pull away from you, his eyes pry open ever so slightly and his gaze is met with a sight that causes his cock to twitch within his pants. Not only are you the sexiest thing he thinks he's ever laid eyes on but when you suddenly move to wrap your arms around his neck, push up on your tippy toes, and initiate the next kiss, Gojo loses his mind.

It's cute the way you have to force yourself up to reach him, attractive how your lips open in expectation of his tongue, and infatuating the way your body feels against his. Gojo can feel everything-- your hard nipples pressed against his chest, the rapid beating of your heart, and the desperation in the way you kiss him.

Your actions are enough to make the man almost feral. His eyes flutter shut again and he suddenly begins to kiss you harder. Air is forgotten as lust sparks between you two. Gojo bends down a little and you feel his hands go to your thighs before he lifts you up into his arms.

You move your hands into his hair, still kissing him as though your life depended on it and feeling the soft strands of white hair brush in between your fingers.

What was once a slow and tender kiss is now a sloppy and aggressive one. Sounds of wet lips moving along one another fill your ears while it feels like Gojo is slurping the taste out of your mouth.

The man wastes not another second as he walks over to your bedroom door with you in his arms, kicks the door shut, and then carries you to your bed. He's gentle as he lays you down, his lips refusing to leave your own just yet. The second your body is laid down and Gojo's looms over your own, you can feel his hardened cock press into your clothed sex, the sudden contact prompting a moan to leave you.

"Mgh," You hum, the sound leading Gojo to pull away from you.

Both of your mouths are still open and his tongue is visible with a string of saliva still hanging down to your bottom lip. Gojo looks absolutely starved, as if another second without the feeling of you would kill him. Beneath low lids is the darkened gaze that Gojo couldn't even control anymore.

Gojo pants lightly, "Hah... fuck." He groans lowly. He then says your name in a tone that gives you butterflies, his voice on the brink of pure desperation.

You swallow, "Hm?"

"Touch yourself." Gojo suddenly orders.

"W-What?" You breathe, your brows drawing together.

The corner of his lips pull into a smirk. "You heard me. I said touch yourself." Gojo repeats to you.

He then moves his hands, taking your wrists and pulling your arms down from around his neck. Gojo pins one of your arms up over your head and releases the other, tilting his head as he peers down at you.

"Show me how you do it," He whispers, his voice heavy in his arousal.

You're too horny to feel embarrassed about it anymore so you bring your one free hand down to your sweats, shifting to remove the item. You struggle at first but Gojo ends up helping you and the lower half of your body is exposed to him once more.

His eyes are glued to the exposure of your wet cunt and his hungry stare alone makes you throb. You carefully move your hand down your sex and touch yourself slowly, running a finger over your clit before slipping it into yourself. You look down at your actions, shifting your attention away from Gojo out of shyness.

Gojo looks at your face, noticing where your attention has gone and he gives you a cocky smirk. "Look at me." He directs.

You have to swallow down all your shyness but you manage to look at the man. The eye contact feeds into your arousal and you finger yourself slowly the two of you hold each other's intense gaze.

After a few thrusts of your fingers, Gojo tuts and shakes his head. "You poor thing." He suddenly voices, "You can't even please yourself correctly."

You clench around your fingers at his words and your thighs threaten to close. Naturally, Gojo doesn't allow you to do so and he lets go of your pinned hand. He grabs your thighs, spreading your legs nice and wide for himself and causing your breath to stutter as those lust-filled blue eyes never leave your face.

"Want me to help you?" Gojo utters with a playful look on his expression. Your head nods in response and he bites down on his bottom lip. "Say please." He requests.

Your voice is small, "Please...?"

The simple word feeds into his ego but, he still plans on taunting and teasing you. You feel his hand lift from your thigh and ghost over your smaller one, soon drawing your fingers out of yourself and raising them to his lips.

He then looks you dead in the eyes as he slides your delicate digits into his mouth, sucking the moisture from your cunt off your skin. Another throb is felt from in between your legs in reaction to the sight. Gojo slides his tongue in between your fingers, the feeling of the wet muscle licking up everything from you adding to the heated feeling of your hormones.

Gojo pulls your hand out of his mouth and saliva is seen hanging. "Say it again," He whispers out in a low tone.

"P-Please," You utter desperately.

He'd only done so little and you could already feel liquids of arousal seeping out of you with each second that passed. You were a wet mess, your body was hot and you were so horny that it was beginning to frustrate you.

He gives you a very satisfied smirk and after one last lick to your fingertips, he releases your hand. Gojo hovers over you, propping his body up with his arm as his other hand moves from your thigh to your heat. Teasing you seems to be his only goal as his slender digits merely rub over your cunt.

"Wow," Gojo scoffs, "I barely did anything to you and you're soaked..." He tilts his head and his smirk is wide, "How pathetic."

He then pushes one long finger into you and you gasp. Gojo shifts down to your neck and despite his harsh words to you, his lips are careful against your skin while he pumps one finger in and out of you. The feeling of his teeth sinking into the side of your neck makes you squirm and you practically spasm when he shoves a second finger inside you.

Sounds of your slick coating his fingers as he thrusts them in and out of you at a steady pace can be heard. Gojo's all over your neck, kissing, sucking, and biting at your skin-- never leaving any marks but simply adding to the pleasure you feel.

"Aah," You moan softly when he abruptly bites down on you harder and curls his fingers inside you.

Gojo then trails kisses downward, trailing wet pecks against your tense skin all the way down to your collarbone. His eyes flicker up to yours as he twirls his fingers inside you, watching closely for your reaction. A whine leaves you and Gojo grins.

He then continues his trail of kisses, going as far as kissing over the top of your shirt and on your chest. You're not wearing a bra so you're not too surprised when you feel Gojo suck on your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. It's a firm suck, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth as his fingers pick up the pace of their thrusts within you.

You move an arm over your lips and moan into it, your sounds growing louder and louder as Gojo works to please you.

The suddenly slightly sharp feeling of his teeth giving your nipple a tug makes your eyes go wide and a whimper leaves you. "F-Fuck," You gasp in shock.

Gojo lifts his head a little, "Move your arm," He directs, his gaze firm. "I wanna hear those desperate little moans of yours."

At first, you don't move, prompting Gojo to slide his thumb over your clit and press down into it. You practically choke on air as you remove your arm from over your mouth. For a second time, your legs begin to draw together and your back aches up off the bed a little. Gojo's thumb starts drawing circles over your clit and the thrusting of his two fingers increases.

"Gojo-," You just barely moan out.

The male kisses over your breast, pretty azure eyes peering at the expression on your face as you get closer to an orgasm. "Call me Satoru," He corrects before moving to swirl his tongue over your clothed nipple once more.

The mix of pleasure you get from his mouth moving over the fabric of your thin tank top is odd. His gaze is so intense and his fingers are working against your insides in ways you don't think you could physically ever do.

You bite down on your lower lip as Gojo's fingers massage your insides, the tips of his fingers kneading into you while his thumb slips over your clit in a way that has your body twitching.

"S-Satoru," You call out, feeling as your climax approaches.

He tilts his head and pulls his mouth away from your chest, "There you go, say my name juuust like that." Gojo coos.

A quivering of your lower lip catches his eyes and he notices the way small whines leave you. "Fuck," You breathe out, "I'm gonna cum..."

The man suddenly leans up away from your chest completely. His gaze drops to the sight of his fingers plunging in and out of you and he moves a hand to palm his erection. A hitched breath leaves him and you can see how needy his face is as he admires the way his digits look sliding into you.

Gojo was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. "C'mon you slut, make a mess of my fingers." He orders huskily.

You allow your eyes to close and one last moan to leave you as you come undone moments after his words are heard. Gojo simply watches you with a satisfied expression while he strokes you through it.

"That's itt," He murmurs. His fingers then slide out of you and he again licks them clean, piercing blue eyes refusing to ever leave your face.

With a sigh, Gojo hops out of the bed and suddenly pulls his phone out of his pocket. You take a minute to get your breathing in check but when you do, your sights go to the man immediately. Anxiety settles within you when you notice his clean hand tapping over his screen and you worry he may have recorded you for a second time.

Your mouth opens to say something about it but you're cut off by Gojo turning his phone off and placing it on your nightstand. His body swivels around to you and he quickly removes his shirt.

"Relax. I was texting Shoko." Gojo assures you. His large hand slides down his body, your gaze following, until he reaches the drawstring on his sweatpants and pulls. "Told her I'd take a bit longer than expected." He says slyly.

You scoff. Words would've left you to respond to him but you were much too busy gawking at his body. God damn, his chest is sculpted to perfection. You can see each cut and crease to his abs and the lower your gaze goes, the quicker you find yourself staring at the single vein trailing down into his sweats and his v-line prominently following that same trail.

It'd be an understatement to say you were drooling from only your mouth. This is the same man who's wanted you for months? Why the hell didn't you notice sooner??

Gojo breaks you out of your daze when he finds himself in the bed again. Now you're looking up into his eyes. "Spread your legs." He voices out lowly.

Your legs spread on his command, wide and mildly desperate eyes focused up on his lustful blue ones. Gojo can't help but smile once he notices your shyness has slightly faded away. He props himself up on one arm again, his other working the lower half of his clothes off.

The eye contact between you two seems to never end. At least, not until he leans down to your ear, "I love girls like you," Gojo whispers, his hands working his throbbing cock out of his boxers, "Always acting so innocent even though this is all you want, right?"

"Hm?" You hum cluelessly in response.

Arms move to go around his neck and you tingle when you suddenly feel the tip of his dick press against your wet folds. Gojo smiles, "Don't act shy now. After all, you fantasized about this."

Your mouth opens but instead of words leaving you, a staggered breath is heard as Gojo rubs his length over your cunt. He's still teasing you even though he's far more eager than he lets on.

The feeling of his lips against your ear while he continues to taunt you with his words only furthers your anticipation. "Shit, look at you now. You want me inside so bad, don't you?" Gojo teases.

With an impatient roll of your eyes, you turn your head to look at him and he seems shocked by your bold gaze.

"Yeah, I do." You whisper to the man, lowering your sights down to his lips and using your grasp around his neck to pull him closer. "Stop talking and fuck me, Satoru."

"So demanding..." He murmurs with a smirk of genuine entertainment smeared across his face.

Gojo wastes no more time as he realigns himself and pushes his cock inside you. The feeling has you gasping and tightening your hold on Gojo in a matter of seconds. Your stomach only churns as the man's length fills you up and he lets out a deep groan in satisfaction-- blue eyes rolling ever so slightly.

Gojo's expression is tensed as he stares down into your eyes. "Fuck, you're so tight," He whispers breathlessly.

A brief smile graces your face and you swear you're in heaven when you hear Gojo moan above you, his dick stuffed deep inside you. His lips brush over your own and for someone who said you moan like a pornstar... his moans were nothing short of slutty and pornographic.

His position has shifted slightly, large body looming over yours and his veiny hands going to your legs to spread them impossibly wider. "Agh... I could cum just looking at you." Gojo groans as he works up a steady pace.

"So soon?" You manage out teasingly.

He scoffs, pulling almost every inch of his aching cock out before thrusting it right back into you. Your little comment goes baseless as moans begin to leave your lips.

Gojo's smirking all too widely. "Don't tease me," He utters, lips ghosting your own for a second.

Despite his words, his eyes were filled with utter desperation. Even as Gojo thrusts into the very depths of your cunt and listened to the sweet moans that left your lips, his expressions couldn't help but reveal how pleasing he found everything.

His gaze trails down your face, capturing the image of your wet parted lips. The sudden urge to kiss you grew strong and Gojo pushed his lips into your own almost lovingly-- the tender gesture meaning nothing as he starts fucking into you rougher.

Gojo's hands are griping into the plush of the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs nice and wide so that he can continue constantly shoving his cock into you despite the way you clench around him. The kiss you share is broken when you feel his tip caress this gummy spot within you, prompting your lips to break from his in a moan.

"S-Satoru," You call out, your brows tensely furrowed as moans follow the man's name in desperation.

His head tilts to the side and you think you see stars for a second when Gojo continues drilling his cock into your sopping hole. He's admiring your facial expression, breathing heavily above you while loving the sweet sound of his name leaving your throat.

"Can't take it?" Gojo teases with the slightest smile on his face.

Before you get the chance to answer his question, he leans his body up slightly and readjusts your legs. An orgasm is drawn out of you the very second one of your legs is tossed over his shoulders and his length mashes impossibly deeper into you.

He slows for only a second to speak to you. "Go on, get nice and loud f'me," Gojo groans one last time before harshly thrusting into you.

To make matters worse, Gojo shifts a hand over the bulge of his tip poking at your skin. Your body is already being jerked back and forth by his pounding and you're slowly fading into this cockdrunk stupor.

As if to follow his instructions, you do in fact get louder, your back just barely arching off the soft mattress and more prominent whiney moans leaving you. Hell, you straight-up whimper when Gojo's hand gives that stomach bulge a slight push.

His moist rosy lips spread into a satisfied smirk, "Shit-, look how deep inside you I am..." Gojo points out purposefully, his words causing your cunt to flutter around his cock.

"Mmgh... S' too d-deep..." You babble, your eyes flickering to the back of your head.

Gojo's arm squeezes around your leg and he only fucks his length into your puffy folds harder. Cocking his head to the side with that awfully attractive smirk on his face, "I don't think m' deep enough," Gojo hums.

He swats his thumb down to your clit and your entire body spasms, instinctively reaching a hand down to move him away. Your fingers are shaking as you try to push his hand off your sensitive bud but all your efforts are useless.

"Move your hand," Gojo scoffs, "C'mon, I know a pretty slut like you can take this much."

You shake your head and whine, "I c-can't-, fuck... mmh, 's too much Toru..."

The nickname catches him entirely off guard. It wasn't like you called him that on purpose either, you just mumbled out as much of his name as you could, unable to speak properly by this point. Gojo had already managed to make you come twice, the fact almost embarrassing to think about since you could hardly do much on your own.

Gojo's hips snap forward a bit harsher than he intends to, the reaction fueled by the overwhelming amount of lust that little nickname you choked out invoked from him. He's full-on panting heavily now with a tense expression on his face as he focuses in on pummeling his stupidly large cock into you.

He's got you sputtering out broken and stuttered moans, water pricking the corner of your eyes while the bed below rocks with his every thrust. You think you lose it when Gojo mewls out the sweetest and yet filthiest sound you've heard from him thus far.

Gojo whines, loud and unapologetically.

The sound alone makes you come undone for a third time. "A-Ah... S-Shit..." Gojo mutters. His head tosses back and you relish in the almost angelic sight of the man-- sweat dripping down his chest and his Adam's apple on full display.

"Been wantin' to fuck you for s' long..." Gojo groans, a slight pitch heard through his voice. "I need you to take all of me," He coos, tipping his head back down to meet your teary eyes. "Oh f-fuck, you can do that, right?" He heaves.

You wish you could've played it off and shook your head yes but you really couldn't. You're clamping around his dick every time he pushes into you and you even try pulling your body away from his to catch a break. This motion only makes it even worse for you though.

Gojo drops your leg when you suddenly shake your head no and he lets out a breathy laugh as you try pulling away from his thrusts. His hands latch onto your hips and he tugs your body to meet his hips.

He only does that for a moment though, hastily leaning down to your ear while his thrusts grow sloppy. He hisses sharply and his eyes practically roll to the back of his head. "F-Fucking hell..." Gojo moans. "M' gonna cum, shit... gonna cum inside you," He tells you.

Your body tenses up and you wrap both your arms and legs around the man, not to encourage his words but just to keep him close to you. "You c-can't.." You whisper in response.

Gojo turns his head so that his lips are up against the crown of your ear, his cock twitching as he strokes your insides aggressively. "I need to. F-Fuck... needa' fill this filthy little cunt," He groans, voice husky and needy.

His length has you feeling full already, easily slipping in and out of you due to your excessive back-to-back release. Even though you told him he couldn't, you're constantly squeezing around him like you want him to. Gojo's moaning in your ear at this point, beyond obsessed with the way you keep sucking him back in.

"Toru' please, I-," Your voice dies out as you moan again, Gojo having pulled almost all the way out and then slamming right back in.

Gojo shifts down to your neck and kisses you briefly. "Lemme cum inside," He requests, another core throbbing whine leaving him. "Hah, a-ah... s-shit, please," He mumbles.

Your nails scratch at his back but, you end up giving in and nodding your head, his seed soon spilling into you. Gojo continued on a bit longer, practically fucking his cum into you until he finally comes to a stop.

The air is still, soft sounds of the two of you panting are heard through your bedroom. Gojo has half a mind to go for another round but, given your tired state, he decides to give you a break.

After a few minutes, the man eventually gets off you and heads to the nearest bathroom-- not bothering to ask you where it is since he seems to have known already.

You're left feeling... content and yet mushy at the same time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You wait for a bit for Gojo to return to you but you notice he takes quite a while.

Eventually, you sit up and lazily glance in the direction of the bathroom, rubbing your mildly teary eyes. With a clearing of your throat, "Satoru?" You call out.

There's no response.

You worry, panic even.

Could he be doing something? Shit, maybe he did record you...

Maybe he's in the bathroom trying to post or send his video of you...

The second you go to swing your legs off the bed, Gojo walks out of the bathroom, a relaxed expression etched onto his handsome features. He quirks an eyebrow in response to the little glare you have on your face.

"Somethin' wrong?" Gojo asks, smiling lazily.

Your eyes scan his body-- he's still naked but now cleaned of all your remnants. You searched for his phone but his hands were empty and he just looked concerned.

Your scrutiny is interrupted when Gojo steps closer and moves a hand to your jaw, fingers pressing into your skin and forcing your head up. "You really think I'm gonna record you again, don't you?" Gojo quires.

Your head shakes in denial. "No..."

"Thennn why'd you look at my hands?"

"I just... Uhm..." You struggle for an excuse, fiddling with your fingers in your lap.

Gojo finds you adorable. That look of worry in your eyes, the tiny pout on your lips, and the faint fucked out expression going across your features. "You just what? Hm?" He teases, shifting his thumb to your lower lip. "Wanna feel more of my hands? Is that it?" Gojo teases.

You stare up at him blankly, eyes wide as you try to figure out how to respond to him. "N-No..." You mumble.

He flashes you a smile and weighs your bottom lip down, leaning his face closer to yours, "I can give you more if you want."

An innocent head shake is given to him and he lets out a soft laugh. He lifts to place a kiss to your forehead, "Alright then c'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

You give him a little nod, thankful that he's leaving you alone for now.

In the bathroom, Gojo's teasing you while he cleans you off, throwing you silly remarks when he goes to grab you some new clothes. He's not as bad to be around when he's not blackmailing you and you find yourself smiling a little more than you expected to.

You end up in his shirt after a mini-debate with the man.

"But look how cute you are in it," Gojo compliments. He's leaning his large build against the doorframe of your bathroom, watching you tug at the end of his shirt as if to pull it down more. He's got his sweats back on but he's admiring you in his shirt.

You shoot him a glare, "Don't you need this back anyway? You have to leave."

He chuckles, "Do I?"

"Uhm, yes? Did you forget about Shoko??" You ask him.

Gojo rolls his eyes and shrugs you off. "She'll be fine."

"I..." You sigh and shake your head. "Whatever. Since you're staying longer can you tell me who's on the list now?"

He stands still for a long moment, debating on whether or not he wants to give the list to you yet. After a pause and a shrug, "How about I show you what they look like? Then I'll give you the name of whoever you wanna go after next." Gojo muses with a little grin.

You scrunch up your face. Why can't he just be simple? Another sigh is breathed out from you, "Fine." You hum.

With a nod, Gojo pushes off the door frame and goes to grab his phone. He returns a few minutes later and extends the device out for you. "There's about... six guys. Just swipe through and you'll see." He informs you.

You blink. "Six? I have to sleep with six guys?"

Gojo chuckles, "Well not at the same time... Unless of course, you're-"

"No."

"Alright then relax, you can take as long as you want with each." He tells you with a sweet tone.

You stare for a second, nearly losing yourself in his ridiculously pretty blue eyes. With a slight shake of your head, you look down at the phone, eyes widening with the first male.

You admire him for a second but you're quick to swipe to the next. Each man on the phone is... ridiculously attractive. According to Gojo they all go to your school or have something to do with it so you're surprised you've never seen or heard of these men before.

"Holy shit." You breathe, glancing up to Gojo. He's not smiling like normal but he looks interested in what you have to say. "Why didn't you tell me they were all hot?!" You huff.

He scoffs, "You didn't ask."

"I-," Your eyes roll, "Right. Anyways, I wanna try this guy," You say as you turn the phone to him, your choice of words making it seem as though the men were food or objects for you to pick from.

Gojo smiles at the man on the phone. "Y'know of all the guys there, you chose someone that might actually be easy for you."

Your eyes light up, "Really?"

He nods, "Mhm, that's my best friend."

"Oh... W-Wait," You flip the phone back to yourself and narrow your eyes. "This is the guy that comes over with you sometimes?!"

Gojo's smile is continuous as he peers down at you. Every little thing you say or do is so enamoring to him. "Yeah, that's Suguru." He hums.

"And I get to fuck this guy?" You say almost excitedly."Well, he doesn't sleep around with just anyone but for you..." Gojo tilts his head to the side and ogles your body, "Yeah, I'd say he's probably at a medium difficulty level..."

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[vaspider]

Look. A little advice.

Once you get to a certain amount of Known on the internet or a subsection of it, or even in a subsection of a RL group of people, there are going to be people who will make up a version of you which exists only in their heads and which has absolutely nothing to do with who you are. It might better resemble who you were twenty years ago or it might never have had anything to do at all with who you were then or are now.

You cannot stop this. You cannot prevent this. Once you get a certain number of followers or a certain amount of attention, that's going to happen: people will make up stories about you which either look through a fun-house mirror at some small aspect of who you are and twist it and blow it up until it doesn't resemble you at all, or which just have absolutely no basis in fact whatsoever.

This is just another kind of parasocial relationship; it's the kind which really sucks to deal with, because it's so negative and so pervasive. It's very real, and the frustration you feel about it is very real. Nobody wants to be known incorrectly.

But. You can't control this. It's gonna happen. No matter what you say, no matter how precisely you say it, the people who want to misinterpret you will find a way to do so. This doesn't mean 'don't pay attention to what you say,' or 'don't be purposeful and precise with your language,' but it does mean 'don't obsess over the people who are determined to get you wrong.'

You can be the most anodyne, run-of-the-mill, unremarkable human being, and the people who are determined to hate you will find something that they can point to and say 'ha ha! I told you that Spider danced with the devil at midnight! I witnessed it myself!' (It will not help the situation if you are, say, self-admittedly stubborn as fuck, long-winded, and sometimes kinda fucking obnoxious, but please realize that in the end, it doesn't really matter. This is gonna happen no matter what.)

The people who matter will look at what's being said, wrinkle up their foreheads, and say, 'uh, man, it looks like Spider was actually playing with his dog at 9 am?'

That said, if you don't have elephant-thick skin from being a marginalized-gender human being who's been on the internet since before the web had pictures, there are some things you can do to make it easier when people making things up about you starts to get on your nerves:

Establish protocols for when it becomes too much: have someone read your messages, turn off your notifications, have time where you purposefully disengage.

Establish protocols for how you interact, period: "I will block people without guilt if they engage positively with the people who spread untruths about me." "I will answer everything in public so people can't lie about what I said, because it's right there in public." "I will not answer work-related stuff in DMs, that has to go to the work email." Whatever it is, create some boundaries for yourself. Stick to them. The people who push you to bend them aren't doing that for your benefit but theirs.

If you get someone who really hits your Weirdo Alarm, trust it. Yeah, block and report, but also, take screenshots and store them somewhere that isn't easily erased. I have an 'Internet Weirdos' folder, which makes it a little easier to deal with when people start doing things like 'making threats of physical harm to me and my family.' Don't fuss, just take a screenshot and chuck it in the folder. Having that record makes it easier to just forget that it ever happened, because you have a paper trail if anybody starts doing something Real Weird.

Spend time offline, with people who do actually know you.

Don't get lost in the version of you that someone else makes up in order to make up for the shit that's missing in their own life. You aren't required to play the part that someone else is trying to script for you. It is never to your benefit, only to theirs; you gain nothing by standing in that role for them, and you lose precious seconds of your one irreplaceable life.

You could be using those seconds to look at this video of how to pick up a duck, which I think we can all agree is a better investment of your time.