#❲𝟏/𝟒❳

[renjwoo]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 ↬ ༘ ·˚. ₊˚ * ･

༘ ·˚. ₊˚ * ･ ↫ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

[k17y]

ㅤㅤㅤCOMMISSIONED KITTY ARTS:     PART 01 / ??

[blkkizzat]

@ 𝙭𝙓𝘿𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙂𝙤𝙙69𝙓𝙭 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮...

AND GOD KNOWS I'M TRYIN', BUT THERE'S JUST NO USE IN DENYING... ❤︎︎︎︎ THE OTAKU IS MINE ❤︎︎

⏯︎︎ OTAKU!GOJO X BIMBO!READER SERIES

bunny, how on earth did you end up dating this huge otaku nerd? urgh, you actually like him and match his freak too? and he buys you what?! omg! what will your friends think?!

⏯︎︎ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘

𖦏 genre: college au

𖦏 ratings: 18+MDNI. unprotected, ecchi gojo, dubcon, cnc, bdsm, puppy play, public sex, creampies, spanking, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, edging, squirting, threesums, femdom, the ridiculous ass pervy pet names gojo gives you & reader is called 'bunny' in lieu of 'y/n'. each story will have warnings on its story page.

𖦏 pre register: comment to be tagged. i may not respond to everyone but rest assured if you comment you will be tagged!

𖦏 gamer's guide: all fics are listed in chronological order, but likely won't be written in chronological order. summaries subject to change slightly. they also will be written over time so please don't rush me for the next installment but feel free to ask me questions i love talking about this lil freak❤︎︎

⏯︎︎ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘:

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟏: ❝ DIGIMON—BUT MAKING U CUM IS MY REAL HOBBY! ❞

𖦏 your best friend gojo is a hopeless otaku virgin with zero rizz that's still obsessed with digimon—despite being a grown ass man. you're a slut who despite her best whoring efforts—can't cum. you'll take his v-card and he'll fix your broken pussy, deal? ⏯︎︎ plays: 13.3k

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟐: ❝ STICKS N' STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT CHAINS N' WHIPS EXCITE ME! ❞

𖦏 so now that you have a filthy rich boyfie who is completely obsessed with you and has moved you into his house, you're winning, right? or you will be at least— if can survive a trip to the sex dungeon. don't worry it's professionally sanitized after each use! ...what? that's not what you're worried about? oh... ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟑: ❝ AND ALL OF THAT WAS OKAY, CAUSE IT WAS IN A 3-WAY!❞

𖦏 the three of you: you, gojo and geto are like peas in a pod, especially since its summer! and if two of you start f*cking in that pod well its only natural that the third want to join in, right? besides, you both already want to f*ck him. just make sure your current boyfie doesn't get too jealous from how hard you are moaning on your other besties' joystick. your only his ecchi angel, remember? ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟒: ❝ IN THE BEDROOM I BE SCREAMIN', BUT OUTSIDE I KEEP IT QUIET—OR TRY TO AT LEAST!❞

𖦏 you can only keep your relationship underwraps from the rest of your friend group for so long. but you need to ease them into the idea first! although, when there's a yacht party for nanami's bday how is your uber clingy otaku boyfie supposed to keep his hands off of you when you're looking like the most perfect pervy princess in that itty bitty swimsuit? ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟓: ❝ YEAH, HE MY MAN, HE WAS NEVER YO TYPE! ❞

𖦏 school is back! thankfully you somehow manage to instill some kind of decency into your otaku boyfie over the summer so he can come across as normal enough to make his own friends. but did you do too good of a job? wait, he actually has a lil rizz now? you mean you aren't the only girl attracted to him anymore... hol'up! ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟔: ❝ MOVE IT UP, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, OH—SWITCH IT UP LIKE NINTENDO! ❞

𖦏 hey, when did you become freaker than your otaku boyfie? so he caught you touching yourself to his femdom p0rn when he came back early from a business trip? yikes! now he wants to try it out with you? don't worry you will do a great job training your new play puppy boyfie! ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

⏯︎︎ 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒:

𖦏 soundtrack: [ x ] 𖦏 moodboards: [ lvl 1 ] 𖦏 amazing art by amazing readers: [ x ] 𖦏 faq/thirsts: [ x ]

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.︎︎

[virologikal]

┊ ┊ ┊ 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 𝟐/?

⸻ ⨯ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 ✽ 𝐏𝐑𝐄-𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟏 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟐 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟑 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟒 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐂𝐕 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟓 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟔 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟕 ✽ 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝟖

⸻ ⨯ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⇨ 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⇨ 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃. ⸻ ⨯ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ⇨ 𝐇.𝐔.𝐍.𝐊.

⸻ ⨯ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏: 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫 / 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬

[otkuhotgirl]

─────── 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 !

# featuring one piece.

behold, my master(one)piece — got it? check out my kinktober schedule for the incoming month!

⎰ & containing PWP. NSFW at its finest. DARK CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏 — breast worship | praise kink | lactation with black-leg sanji.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐 — cock worship | deepthroating with roronoa zoro.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑 — medical play | glove kink with trafalgar water d. law.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒 — food play | overstimulation | cunnilingus with monkey d. luffy.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟓 — temperature play with portgas d. ace.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔 — dacryphilia | orgasm denial with eustass kid.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟕 — lingerie | mirror sex | body worship with nico robin.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 — prompts for requests!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟖 — threesome | sensation play with black-leg sanji & roronoa zoro!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟗 — tights | begging | boot worship with smoker!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎 — strip-tease | lap dance with akagami no shanks!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟏 — choking | hate sex with trafalgar water d. law!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟐 — corruption | aphrodisiacs | edging with roronoa zoro!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟑 — zelophilia | humiliation with donquixote doflamingo!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟒 — breeding kink | cockwarming with eustass kid!

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟐 — pegging | strap-on with black-leg sanji.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟑 — shibari | power imbalance with donquixote doflamingo.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟒 — period sex | blood-play with trafalgar water d. law.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟓 — marking | shotgunning with sir. crocodile.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟔 — office sex | almost getting caught with smoker.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟕 — public | dry-humping | finger-sucking with flame emperor sabo.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟖 — sea-sex | mermaid with akagami no shanks.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟗 — size kink | creampie | first time with charlotte katakuri.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟎 — threesome | squirting | fingering | sixty-nine with nico robin & nami.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟏 — WILDCARD!

[lovecuprite]

Kinktober 24.

˚₊‧꒰ა subject to change (e.g. order or au's) - mostly jjk, but some l&d

˚₊‧꒰ა all smut so mdni -

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏 ↣ somno, geto

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐 ↣ biting/marking, (vampire) gojo

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑 ↣ knife play, sylus

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟒 ↣ brat taming, sukuna

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟓 ↣ sex tape, nanami

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 ↣ cockwarming, zayne

Ѽ

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟖 ↣ threesome, sukuna & gojo

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟗 ↣ edging, choso

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 ↣ thigh riding, toji

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏 ↣ loss of virginity, nanami

Ѽ

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔 ↣ overstimulation, gojo

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖 ↣ corruption, (cult leader) geto

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎 ↣ breath play, geto

Ѽ

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓 ↣ cuckolding, sylus & zayne

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕 ↣ size difference, sukuna

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟗 ↣ gunplay, toji

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟏 ↣ power imbalance, (college professor) nanami

© lovecuprite - do not copy or translate any of my works

[httpsserene]

Lando smut driveroom after hia dnf🫠🫠

𝐝𝐧𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬

summary: what goes down in their driver’s room with you after a dnf. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. hurt/comfort (in a way). sexual propositions. angry sex (implied). depressed charles. mercedes f1 team slander. sir kink. periods. face-sitting, vaginal sex, masturbation, voyeurism, blowjobs, cunnilingus, shower sex (light or implied). pairing: the grid x fem!reader (1,4,16,44,55,81) genre: drabbles.

from serene: river baby, this one’s for you xxx we all know what inspired this one lmao !!! oh, i will not be doing extended fics for any of these, they are just quick drabbles as a little writing exercise for me! (okay, okay, okay, fine i’ll finish toasty part two i promise it'll be released soon)

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐚𝐱 #𝟏

You’ve never found Max’s skill for talking endlessly annoying or draining. In fact, you can recall telling him that hearing him eagerly explain about racing or other topics that interest him is attractive, multiple times. However, you’re not sure if you can withstand much more of him rambling through a retelling of every single lap he raced before he had to retire, looking for any possible point where he could’ve done something different to prevent it. 

The two of you are sitting on his small couch, pressed side to side, and you’re offering small nods of agreement and hums of understanding during his pauses between words that echo in the small private room. His helmet was shoved in a random cubby, his balaclava draped on top of it but, he hasn’t made any other progress in taking off his race gear. His gloves are still covering his hands as he fiddles with the straps around his wrists, his race suit and boots still properly secured, the smell of sweat and gasoline–the scent of man alluring to your nose–the heat of his body radiating against your side instigating the warmth that floods your cheeks, and the sound of his lisp curling seductively around his speech prompting less than pure thoughts as your heart flutters and thighs press together.

Max is unaware of the sudden twist in your thoughts as he verbally attempts to calculate just exactly where he could’ve improved his outcome, his voice rumbly with an undertone of displeasure, when you cut him off.

“Let me make it better,” you offer.

The Dutch driver cocks his head at you, his expression confused and humored, “How can you make my DNF better? I do not think you can go back in time and—”

“No, Max,” you interrupt, teeth tugging at your bottom lip gently, “Let me sit on your face.”

Visibly, you see his breath catch and eyes widen. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to formulate a response, tongue flicking out to dampen his lips as he thinks—before his pupils blow large, and he swallows audibly.

“Oh,” Max starts, finally tugging his gloves off and tossing them to the floor, then moving to undo the strap of his race suit, “That would make it better.”

𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 #𝟒

He’s pacing the small length of the room angrily, ranting about his retirement loudly enough that you know it’s seeping through the thin walls. You stare at him with a slightly concerned gaze, getting slightly annoyed as his race suit tied low on his hips threatens to smack you in the face every time he turns around. 

You’re well aware that Lando is quick to anger and brood as he freely makes everyone aware of where the blame needs to be placed. But, the dark and unyielding look in his eyes leads you to believe that he’ll be a little too real to the press today and you would hate to have to deal with a simultaneously enraged and ashamed Lando once he realizes what he said. Then, you’ll have to comfort him as he overthinks his words and doom scrolls through Twitter to see what people are saying about him. You would like to sleep tonight, so you can’t have him embarrass himself today. Thankfully, Lando’s a man, a very simple man at his core. 

You stand up from the couch and pull off his hoodie that you stole. Lando continues to rage and pace, not aware of your movement. You undo the buttons of your shirt, shrugging it off to stand in your bra and jeans. Lando doesn’t notice your state of undress until he spins around to find you topless and shimmying your jeans down your hips.

“Um,” Lando stutters, eyes fixed on your tits, “Why are your clothes off?”

“Get over here and fuck your anger out,” you command, “So when you talk to the press, you don’t say the stupid shit you're telling me now.”

Lando mumbles and pouts offended as he scrambles to lose his race suit, “‘s not stupid shit.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to tug him forward strongly, humming as the length of his body knocks against yours, easily stuffing your hand down his fireproofs and kissing on the meat of his neck, “mhm–I’m sure it isn’t.”

𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 #𝟏𝟔

The room is silent as Charles blankly stares at the wall, you’re not sure if he is aware of your hand comfortingly scratching along his back. He only offered words of exhaustion and depression as he slipped quietly into his room and curled next to you as he dissociated from his retirement.

You’ve tried everything. You cooed soothingly, you complained about the result, and you even loudly expressed how terrible you think the car and Ferrari are and he didn’t say a single word. He simply continued to stare at the wall, his suit and helmet still on, visor down, and expression unreadable. Anxiously, you shifted next to him, not used to experiencing Charles this out of it. And suddenly, the idea came to you. Breaking the silence, you suggested giving him head to relieve his stress. Charles said no. Your brow furrowed perplexed at his denial; he’s never rejected a blowjob before. You took it one step further and offered to let him fuck it out of you (you were previously adamant on the “no sex in the driver’s room” rule because sound carries), and you were sure the Monegasque was about to say yes before he shook his head violently like he was forcibly removing the thought, and mumbled something along the lines of, “I don’t deserve it.” 

That is something you will not let slide. Charles doesn’t need to punish himself after he’s already out of the race, but if he won’t allow himself to indulge in you, you’ll strongly encourage him to.

“Okay, Charlie,” you whisper, “If you’re sure.”

He doesn’t zone back in until he hears your whimpers seep into the air, snapping his head to look at you. He finds you with one hand tugging at your nipple and your other hand shoved under your skirt—from the movement, he can guess that you’re two fingers deep. You hear Charles choke audibly and you can’t help but toss your head back and giggle, the laughter turning into a moan of pleasure as your fingers pass over a sensitive spot.

“I-I think–merde,” Charles cuts himself off as he stares at your show, “I think I’ve changed my mind.”

The helmet stays on.

𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 #𝟒𝟒

You’re unsure if Lewis is even mad about his retirement. The man seems mentally deranged as he laughs gleefully about ending his race early. Understandably, he is complaining about the bottoming of the car and the hell it’s wreaking on his back–so, maybe the joy is justifiable, your man is…older.

The thing is, Lewis switches from rambling about his back pain to complaining about Mercedes and repeating how he can’t wait for a change in scenery at Ferrari. In the Mercedes motorhome. Loudly. You know he’s doing it on purpose based on the vengeful look in his eyes. He recalls almost every single moment the team dismissed his critiques and suggestions, every single moment they didn’t appear at his podiums, every single moment they thought he wouldn’t leave, every single moment they took him for granted. And, Lewis is more than welcome to express his grievances—but you would still like him to leave on good terms as Toto did promise you a custom G-Wagon (not that Lewis can’t get you one himself; you would just hate to see him ruin his connections).

Lewis also can’t help being hot. He sits comfortably splayed out on his couch, a towel tied loosely on his hips from his shower, chest bare as beads of water fall downwards and get caught in the maze of his toned abdomen, his tattoos become art pieces as you appreciate the sight fully. He continues to partake in his amusing one-man conversation as he clasps his chain around his neck—and you break.

“Let me suck your dick,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing, surprised at your own words, “...sir?”

Lewis pauses, raising an eyebrow at you from where you’re leaning on the room door. 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re still standing over there if that’s what you want. Kneel.”

The sound of your knees hitting the floor sings in the air, “Yes, sir.”

𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢, 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 #𝟖𝟏

Oscar’s already sequestered himself away in his room before you were able to intercept him on his way. The mechanics are lowly gossiping about how mad he was when he pulled himself out of the car and they watch after you in fear as you make your way to your boyfriend.

Oscar? Mad? He’d never take it out on you, there’s no reason for the mechanics to be worried. Except when you enter the room, the vibes are peculiar. Oscar’s calmly folding his race suit, boots tucked away into their proper place, standing in just his fireproofs—they compliment his body well, extremely well. He turns to look at you and there’s a smile on his face as if he hasn’t retired from a race. He opens his arms for a hug, and you hesitate for a moment before fulfilling his request. His arms wrap around you warmly and he nuzzles his face into your hair, pulling back briefly to press a kiss on your forehead before tightening his embrace. It feels more like he’s comforting you than you’re comforting him. He walks the two of you backward to his couch and pulls you down to sit on his lap. 

Somehow, Oscar brightens more, “Hi, baby,” he grins, hands moving to fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Uhh, I’m sorry about your race?” Your tone of voice is unsure.

“Oh,” he laughs dismissively, “It happens sometimes–it was listed in the job description.” His right hand slips underneath your shirt as he speaks, moving calmly to tug the cups of your bra down underneath your chest, squeezing lightly at the plush weight in his hand. 

You’re convinced he’s severely concussed, but it doesn’t stop you from arching towards him, your hips rolling forward unconsciously, “Ummm— ‘s there a-anything I can do to help?”

Oscar’s hand draws out of your shirt and halts the grind of your hips in a flash, he coos at you, “Aw, that’s so sweet of you to offer…let me fuck your tits—please?”

What were you going to do, tell him no?

𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 #𝟓𝟓

You’re going to slam your head on the corner of the sink and hope it knocks you out. You’ll do it if means the sounds of Carlos’ whining stop. He forcibly pulled you up on the counter of the sink and told you to stay put as he showered so he could talk it out to you.

Naively, you thought the sound of the shower running would muffle his words and you were wrong. On any other day, you would be fine to support him through his complaints but your period is due to start in a couple of days and the irritation and sore muscles are already affecting you. Originally, you were eager to watch Carlos shower—that’s a sight plenty of women and men alike would kill you for. Then, the glass fogged with steam depriving you of something to ogle. And, if there’s one thing a woman is experiencing besides pain, sensitivity, and anger before her period, it’s being horny. You rationalize your thought process as you get undressed; Carlos gets some stress relief and you get to hear moans and grunts of pleasure instead of his huffing, grumbling, and whining. 

You slide the glass door open and closed as you step in the shower, completely bare except for the necklaces, earrings, and anklet with the #55 charm he gifted you randomly, “Carlos, por favor, be quiet.”

The Spanish man’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, frozen in the middle of his motion of scrubbing soap along his arm, “¿Qué?”

You roll your eyes, tugging the soapy cloth out of his hand and setting it on the shower shelf, “There’s better things you could be doing with your mouth.”

Carlos blinks, returning to the present and sinking to his knees in the too-small shower. 

He stares up at you with his big, sweet, lust-drenched, brown eyes, his hair a mess from the spray of the shower, and his voice cracking as he speaks, “Yes, definitely.”

© httpsserene2024

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 1 — 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐞

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

You'd both sworn. You'd sworn that you wouldn't subject yourselves to sex in the Jeep ever again. Not after the last time ended with so many unnecessary injuries between the two of you. Following one rolled ankle, a noticeable egg on the back of your head, and a bruise to Stiles' elbow that had been so worryingly dark that the purple had been mottled with spots nearly black in color, it was decided that handjobs were fine, blowjobs were great, fingering was.. sufficient. But full-out sex — You had sworn, never again. And, yet..

You can't find it in yourself to care when the dizzying warmth of Stiles' breath falls against your spit slick, kiss swollen lips. Your mouths have separated only as a result of the way he's trying to maneuver you into a better position, a closer position, large hands encasing your waist as he drags you over to straddle his lap. The moment you've settled against his thighs, his hands are already pushing their way up underneath your skirt, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties as his mouth finds its way to your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

And fuck if your own hands aren't already scrambling to undo the button on his jeans, tearing them open and pushing up on your knees just enough that you two of you can work his pants and boxers down his thighs just a few inches.

His cock springs free, already almost fully hard with the anticipation of what's to come, and your mouth nearly waters at the sight. You will never tire of the sight of Stiles' cock, you're sure of it. When your hand wraps around him, your fingers don't meet, and when you give the fat length of him a gentle tug, he groans deliciously into the skin of your throat, hips jerking up as he chases the feeling.

“Hey, slow down, why don'tcha?” Stiles teases softly, “Why're you in such a hurry, huh? Got somewhere else to be or-” He cuts off with another quiet groan as you twist your wrist the way he likes, “Or something?”

“Shush, you.” You reply with a smacking kiss to his mouth.

His fingers are moving in a teasing touch beneath your skirt, skimming the sensitive skin of your belly before finding home on your thighs. He gives the softness a pinch just hard enough to have you gasping before he's slipping beneath the fabric to drag long fingers between your folds.

“Shit, babe,” Stiles groans, his lips finding your cheek again before he drops a light kiss to your chin, “You're this wet already?” He asks, as if you haven't been working each other up for the last twenty minutes with heated touches and even hotter kisses.

He punctuates his question by slipping two fingers inside you in a ridiculously easy glide, the stretch making your eyebrows pull together as your jaw falls slack. He's giving you shallow thrusts, trying to open you up a little and get you ready for what will come next, and your free hand falls to his arm, tethering yourself with fingers circling his wrist in a firm grip. The way the muscles in his arm work with each drag out and then back in has your fingernails digging little crescent moons beneath the dark hairs on his forearm.

Your head is thrown back in pleasure, and it feels like it might weigh a million pounds when you drag it forward again to drop your forehead to his, your hips rocking down onto his fingers and your hand still working him to full hardness, closing over the head of his cock and collecting his precome just to slip back down his length again and again.

It had been days of longing glances across crowded rooms, and lingering touches that were a little unnecessary but desperately craved, and pushing maybe a little too far into each other's space when one of you needed to grab something just to feel the sparks along your skin. Each tiny moment shared had built upon one another slowly, day after day, and now that you're together, skin on skin and teeth and tongues on lips — that fire between you finally burns bright again.

You're both panting a little breathlessly already, worked up beyond belief after not finding moment alone like this in what feels like ages. Hot breaths mingle between your parted lips, the sound of it broken up by the quiet little noises clawing their way up your throats.

You've missed him desperately amidst the chaos that the week has brought. You find yourself wanting him to wreck you beyond repair, to turn your brain inside out until he is all that remains — no stresses about infuriating assholes in the form of college professors, or pack disputes, or the supernatural threat of the week — and the way Stiles continues to work his fingers inside you, pushing in deep until he's caressing that spot that makes your vision white out a bit at the edges, you think he's well on his way toward that wreckage.

“Condom?” You question desperately, tugging at his wrist in signal for him to extract himself from you.

He's muttering to himself while he fumbles to get access to where his back pocket is scrunched up beneath his thighs and you push up onto your knees all the while, maneuvering your underwear down one leg and then the other until you're free of them. When he produces the little foil packet, you take it from him without prompt, tearing it open and rolling it down over him in a quick, practiced motion that has him biting his lips together to hold back a curse.

Stiles slides his hips down the seat a bit further and grips the backs of your thighs to support you as you guide his tip to your entrance. The moment you start to sink down, his fingers dig into the doughy flesh of your thighs, fingertips curling below the curve of your ass to help spread you wider as he fills you up nice and slow.

“You got it, baby,” Stiles praises quietly, lips catching against your cheekbone to leave a small peck to your flushed skin, “There y'go.”

You're shuddering through your breaths as you accommodate to the stretch, knowing that every inch just a precursor to where he's thickest at the base. It's slow going, painful and delicious all at once, but when your hips finally meet his, clit nestling right up against the thatch of hair that trails from his belly button down to where you're connected, you let out a breathy sigh of relief.

Now that you're seated, his hands leave your backside to skate higher, rough fingertips dragging up to the back of your skirt to massage at your spine. You feel him fiddle with the zip at the back, his eyes meeting yours in silent question before you're nodding and he's giving it a tug and freeing you from the thick fabric.

You can't help but look down, and that first glimpse of where you've sucked him in, where he's filling you to the brim, has you eagerly rocking your hips a little to test the stretch. There's still a bit of an ache, a sharp little sting where you're stretched the widest, but it's lessening already and you can feel that pleasurable fullness behind your navel settling in.

“Almost,” You update him quietly, combing your fingers through the strands of his hair and grinning softly when he cranes into your touch, “Jus' need another minute.”

“Take as much time as you need,” He returns earnestly, “You know I'm just enjoying gettin' you like this. Missed you. This week was the worst.”

And it truly has been. Nearly every minute of every day, start to finish, has been an onslaught of lectures and assignments due and pack bullshit that you're both inevitably dragged into every goddamn time — the presence of the token pack humans always necessary if only to give another perspective to a mundane issue that, really, probably could've been solved by your brother and his co-alpha alone. Scott and Derek really shouldn't need to drag the two of you into every little problem — which in turn would leave the two of you with ample time to sneak off somewhere to do this, perhaps in a bed, without the risk of bonked heads or twisted ankles or the bruises that came with ravishing each other in such close confines. And yet, and yet.

You nod in agreement, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape to give it a soft tug, “Been so busy with classes. N' there've been way, way too many pack meetings,” You complain in a quiet huff, “Not enough time for this..” He grumbles his own agreement as your thumb finds the large beauty mark beneath his ear, “I missed you too.” You return softly.

Stiles is patient as ever, his fingers taking the time to explore every bit of exposed skin on your body with a gentle touch. His arms circle your waist only to release you a second later to run his warm palms up your spine and give your shoulders a squeeze. His movements slow for a moment when he finds the band of your bra, pinching and unclasping it in a practiced motion, and then his big hands are making their way back to the front of your ribs, thumbs dragging against the soft underside of your breasts as he dips his head to press kisses to the newly exposed skin.

You lean back a bit to give him more space to work, savoring in the feeling of his mouth peppering soft kisses over your breasts as your own hands fall from his neck to rest on his pecs. Your fingers trail over dark freckles that dot his skin, nails scraping ever so gently into the patch of hair at the center of his chest.

Even with the windows cracked to let in a bit of the crisp autumnal air, the temperature in the Jeep creeps higher, the windows already fogged over with a thin sheen of condensation that smears lightly when you brace your right hand against the window. Five little streaks through the microscopic drops of water covering the cool glass, one to mark where each of your fingers scrape across the surface as you finally rise up onto your knees.

A pitiful little grunt falls from your lips as you drop back down, the sound pushed out with the sheer depth that his cock manages to reach in this position, so full that you can nearly taste him at the back of your throat.

You settle into a slow rhythm and Stiles grabs a hold of your hips as you do, but he's not guiding you, no. He's not aiming for control, not pushing you to go harder or faster, but rather simply holding on and following your movements, his thumbs tracing little concentric circles against the sides of you belly as you go at your own pace.

“Fuck,” You groan when your knees slip a little against the leather seat. It pushes him impossibly deeper than before, driving his tip against your cervix in a way that erupts goosebumps along your skin even in the warm car. “You’re so deep. 'S so big, baby. You're so big-”

You're not even sure what's coming out of your mouth, already a little drunk on the feeling of being filled so completely, on the slick drag every time you rise up and then the sharp jolt to every one of your nerve endings with each thrust back down. Despite the ramblings falling from your lips, or perhaps because of them, Stiles begins to make little noises of his own — guttural moans against the curve of your throat, quiet grunts each time he hits deep.

He tips his head back and the warm brown in his eyes is almost completely taken over by black with how his pupils have blown wide. You catch sight of a small bead of sweat as it works its way out of his hair and begins a slow trail down his temple but you're kissing it away before it can reach his cheekbone. The salt of it lingers on your lips when your tongue runs over them just a moment later.

Dark eyes watch you move with rapt attention, his lips parted to let out low groans of encouragement. It takes a few minutes for him to find his voice, but when he does, his words send heat flooding through you.

“So good,” He tells you, hand tucking a lock of sweat-dampened hair behind your ear before his wide palm settles against the side of your neck, his voice thick with arousal, “Always so good. You're- Shit, y're so tight. So warm. So perfect.”

The thumb resting at the bottom of your cheek creeps up higher, rubbing the plush of your bottom lip until your jaw falls slack in acceptance and then he's cupping your chin and pushing the pad of his finger down against the softness of your tongue. You bite down softly with a moan and your bottom teeth dig into the meat of his palm with just how deep he's got his thumb before you're pulling off just a little and closing your lips around it, sucking and swirling your tongue and reeling at the way his eyes flutter shut with a groan, like he can't quite handle the sight in combination with the way you're riding him slow and deep.

When he removes his thumb, you suck harder to combat the spit that threatens to cling to the digit, but it doesn't make much of a difference because he's already sliding his hand around the back of your neck and bringing your mouth down against his.

You brace one hand on his stomach to aid your moments as your tongues meet in a hungry kiss. A whimper finds its way up your throat when he rubs his free hand achingly slow up and down the front of your thigh, around to grope your ass and then back, smoothing and squeezing along your skin like he wants to be touching you more — Harder, tighter, everywhere all at once.

He's so, so deep like this and you can tell it's affecting him too. His kisses are hungry as he licks into your mouth, a little messy while his nose presses into your cheek and his fingers graze your waist on their journey toward your chest. He's thumbing over the peaks of your nipples, swallowing up your moans with his own, breathing a little like he's the one getting the air punched out of his lungs every time you seat yourself, burying him deep enough that the head of his cock is driving into that spot that makes you see stars.

Your brain goes a little hazy with your budding orgasm, tiny noises becoming more frequent, falling against his mouth a bit like a plea. You don't need to explain, Stiles is already dragging his hand up to push between your thighs, thumb circling your clit the way he knows you like. Your eyebrows furrow as you slip from the kiss, far too focussed on chasing your high now. You bounce a little faster, shallower, fingers scraping at the pale skin of his chest, eyes pinched shut as your thighs tremble with exertion and your knees ache.

Heat licks across your body, a bead of sweat trickling down your spine as your movements start to become a little more difficult. You're so close — so close-

“C'mon, you're doing so good, baby.” Stiles says with far too much tenderness, far too much amazement.

“Fuck,” You whimper, shaky breaths tearing from your chest as you teeter closer and closer, “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“You got it. You can do it. C'mon-”

His gentle praises send you careening over the edge and your whole body shakes as you try to work through it. You're struggling, but then Stiles' hands are under your ass again, guiding you this time, gripping the backs of your thighs tight as he supports some of your weight and helps you ride out your high. Every nudge of his cock against the deepest parts of you has you moaning louder, brain going a little fuzzy as your orgasm peaks but never quite dies off.

Your arms curl around his shoulders, digging your face into his neck as you gasp against his skin, thighs shaking as he keeps guiding you back and forth, not pulling out nearly as far now before he's dragging you against him and filling you back up. Your breasts are pushed tight against his chest. The smell of his aftershave is in your nose and your forehead is pressed into his sweat slicked neck. You're panting, nearly drooling on his shoulder as you try to lock your knees to hold yourself in place, thighs feeling exhausted and like jelly all at once.

“Sti. Fuck, baby, I can't-” A moan cuts you off as it rolls off your tongue, “My legs can't-”

“Aw, your legs too tired, baby girl?” He asks, and it comes out a little condescending. You can practically see the satisfied little smirk on his face, even from where your own is buried in his neck as you nod. He lifts you up a little higher, hands still grasping at the crease where your thighs meet your ass as he adjusts his hips beneath you, “Need me to do the work now?”

The teasing in his voice has your body going traitorously pliant, your voice weak when it finally comes, “Please.”

“I got you,” Stiles promises, taking a little pity. He drags one hand toward the center of your spine while the other falls to the outside of your knee to hold you steady, “I got you..”

The first thrust up into you has you crying out. Not hitting nearly as deep as before, but he's driving in so much harder, so much faster. It pulls whiny little gasps from your lips with each thrust and your jaw's gone slack where it's buried in his neck as his skin slaps against yours with every snap of his hips. The sound of it is loud, and the combination of noises both lewd and salacious only proves to turn you on that much more.

“Shit.” Stiles grunts, voice a little hoarse and yet somehow high as it catches in his throat, “You make the prettiest noises, baby. Fuck. Just listen t' you.”

You don't entirely mean for it, but your next moan is just a little louder in response, unabashed and desperate even as you attempt to muffle the sound of it in the curve of his shoulder. The pitch his voice has taken is one that you only get to hear when he's getting unbearably close to his own peak. The sound of it is so, so sweet to your ears, mingling with the obscenely wet glide of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“'M gonna come,” He warns, his hips jerking just a bit rougher, a bit less coordinated as he fucks up into you, “Shit. Shit, sweetheart, 'm.. gonna.. come-”

His arms curl and lock around your waist as he does, dragging you down against him and burying himself so deep that it has you crying out again, fingers digging into his shoulders where your arms have curled under his to hold tight. He comes with a moan and a grunt that both get muffled with the way his face is now hidden in your hair, his cock kicking up inside you as he releases into the condom.

The increased stimulation against your sensitive walls has you going a little teary in the best way, overwhelmed but loving every moment of it, and you roll your hips over him despite the soreness in your thighs just to hear the way he groans in response.

You pull back just enough to lock your fingers in the hair at his nape and tug him into a sweet kiss, it's warm and a little sweaty as your lips slide together but it's also so full of unspoken thanks and emotion and undeclared love.

When you lean back again to collectively catch your breath, his thumb finds your wet eyelashes and swipes at them gently.

“Oh- hey, you good?” He checks with concern, his free hand already at your waist and drawing soft patterns along your skin, “You okay?”

You turn your head into the hand on your cheek and press a kiss to the center of his palm, scraping at his scalp beneath sweat-dampened locks, “I'm good,” You promise, “Gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow though, God.”

A smirk finds its way onto his face, “Fucked you so good you're gonna have trouble walkin', huh?”

“Shut up,” You huff, a laugh slipping out in contradiction to your weak display of annoyance, “But with the way my thighs feel right now? Yeah.”

You wince as you push up onto your knees, both from the ache left behind as he slips out and from the soreness in your legs. When you rise up a little higher, your head hits the roof with a painful thump and you can't bite back a curse.

Stiles is quick to bring a hand up to the back of your head with a sympathetic wince, cradling the tender spot on your skull softly, “Oh, shit, y'alright?”

“Ow,” You respond with a pout, your own hand reaching back to cover his over your hair, “Stupid Jeep n' stupid metal roof..”

“Hey,” Stiles frowns, “Don't blame the Jeep, alright? It's not Roscoe's fault you bumped your head.”

“Is too.”

It comes out in a huff and Stiles chuckles in amusement at your disgruntled expression as he slips his hands under your thighs to help you dismount from his lap completely. You fall into the seat beside him and drop your calves over his knees, bumping your forehead against his shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude.

After a few long minutes wrapped up in each other as you collect yourselves, you both gather your haphazardly discarded clothing and redress. Stiles digs out a new air freshener from the glove compartment and adds it to the hoard of them already hanging from the rearview mirror. Another little tree to the collection, this one a pretty shade of purple and smelling of berries, dropping to sit right atop number of similarly shaped scented hangers in a wide array of colors.

And later, when you're forced to part ways, you push up onto your toes as you lean back in through the driver's side window of the Jeep for one final kiss. The breeze is cool against your thighs as it catches beneath your skirt, goosebumps causing you to tighten your fingers around the window frame as you prepare to lean back. Stiles has a hand coming up to the back of your neck to hold you in place at the first sign that you're about to pull away, stretching the kiss out for as long as he can get away with. It's a sickly sweet press of lips. One that will hopefully be enough to hold you over until you get the chance to have him like this again.

A glance over your shoulder as you walk away has your gaze meeting Stiles one last time, elation and melancholy both pulling at the edges of your lips until you're left with a saccarine smile to pair with your tiny wave goodbye. Your fingers come up to brush your lips as you begin to turn away, and when you extend your hand in his direction Stiles nearly throws himself out the open window to catch the invisible kiss that you've sent his way. His unnecessary enthusiasm has you stifling a giggle as you finally turn your back to him and make your way down the street.

You're forced to jog around the block from where Stiles has dropped you a safe distance from your house, hopping into the shower the moment you get home to wash away any and all evidence of the afternoon from your skin.

It's with skin scrubbed clean and a heavy heart that you head to the washing machine and dump your clothes inside to extinguish the lingering smell of Stiles that you know clings to the fabric, of you and Stiles, together.

And when Scott pauses the load mid-wash with the intention of throwing a shirt in, your brother is sure to complain about the way you've pointedly used the scented detergent — the overpowering artificial smell of lavender much too strong an irritant to his overly-sensitive, supernatural, wolfy nose — But, you remind yourself, if you want to keep up this thing with Stiles, which you desperately do, then that's just how this has to go, because, well.

𝐒 𝐜 𝐨 𝐭 𝐭 𝐲 𝐃 𝐨 𝐞 𝐬 𝐧 ' 𝐭 𝐊 𝐧 𝐨 𝐰 .

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝!𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬. 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐦 — 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬.

again, REBLOGS are important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save your ur fave fics.

[luc1-anna]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏

Of course he'd go slow at first, making sure he didn't cause you to bleed or get hurt, especially since he was so big, having to only put in a few inches along with the tip to get started, knowing he would stretch you out to the max, it may be pleasure to other women but it would only be painful for you.

Hands gripping onto your hips as he gently put it in, making sure he knew how much he could put in, analysing your facial expressions for any discomfort. Soon as you give him the greenlight to go faster, he takes charge, thrusting his hips into yours, watching as your body reacted to his movements, body jolting back and forward on the bed. "Babe!" Moaning out as you tried to grab his forearm, feeling the tight sensation of a knot forming in your body. Of course he didn't stop, not till you showed some form of pain or telling him the straight words of no.

ɴᴏᴀʏᴀ, ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ, ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏᴜʀ, ᴀʟʟ ꜰᴏʀ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴛᴀɪᴊᴜ, ꜱᴀɴᴇᴍɪ

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐

He let you ride him for the first time, watching as you grabbed his cock, fingers digging into the base as you descended onto it, the way his tip felt along your lips, only wanting for you to fuck him till you cried. Hands helping your body move up and down, making sure not to go too hard but not to slow, just to his liking if not a little slower. Watching as you moaned, seeing how good he made you feel, especially on your first time, knowing that no sex toy or fingers made you feel better than him. "Get off me whenever you need" reassuring you as he felt you clench around him, nodding as a reflex, it just coming through one and ear and back out the other.

ᴊᴇᴀɴ, ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ, ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ, ᴇʀᴡɪɴ, ᴢᴇᴋᴇ, ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇ, ᴀɪᴢᴀᴡᴀ, ꜱɪʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴇʏᴇ

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Of course he'd go nice and slow for you, it had been atleast 25 minutes of foreplay just to get you wet enough, being scared that he'd rio you open from his size in comparison to your tight virgin hole. Sat on the bed, legs wide open, head placed strategically in-between them as licked his lips, hands holding your legs down making sure you didn't escape. He wanted you to sit on his face but anything would really do. Tongue gliding along your clit, rubbing it throughout your folds. The way you jerked your body back from the first feeling. "I'll take good care of you!" Smiling as he looked up before heading back down, face nuzzled in-between your thighs, he seemed so innocent when he said that, but you knew that he wasn't from the way his tongue entered you, lips sucking your liquids from your cunt, feelings your walls try and reject him as he pushed through, fingers running through his hair as you felt him. This would be in your record books for some of the best oral sex, despite it being your first time.

ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ, ᴀʀᴍɪɴ, ɪɴᴏ, ɢɪʏᴜ, ɢᴀᴢ, ꜱʜɪɢɪʀᴀᴋɪ, ꜱʜɪᴜ ᴋᴏɴɢ, ʀᴀɴ, ᴋᴇɪꜱʜɪɴ ᴜᴋᴀɪ, ɢᴏᴊᴏ

𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟒

Your first time was in a semi public place, curtains drawn open as he fingered you, fingers plowing through your slick walls, his spare hand rubbing your poor clit, the way you sat on his knee as he fucked you for the first time, taking your dignity along with your virginity. Head resting onto his shoulder as he filled your poor cunnie with his calloused 3 fingers, breath harshly touching his clothes neck. "Keep still" feeling your thighs clench around his hand, it was getting on his nerves as it restricted his movements. Slapping your clit with his other hand, watching as you shuddered and screamed into his ear, glancing towards the open window incase anyone heard you. His hand getting cramped up from the fast movement, ripping it out from your hole, watching the string of you run along your pussy. "Ya' taste good for your first time" licking his fingers clean, the way your juices stuck to his fingers, leaving a string of your wetness. Other hand still slapping your poor cunt.

ᴇʀᴇɴ, ᴘᴏʀᴄᴏ, ᴛᴏᴊɪ, ᴅᴀʙɪ, ʜᴀᴡᴋꜱ, ʜᴀɴᴍᴀ, ʀɪɴᴅᴏᴜ, ᴜᴢᴜɪ ᴛᴇɴɢᴇɴ, ᴋᴀꜱʜɪᴍᴏ, ɢᴇᴛᴏ, ᴘʜɪʟɪᴘ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ

Banner credits to @cafekitsune

[goxjo]

WARNINGS. some works may contain dark / potentially triggering content. my general dark content tag is #!holic — you may filter it out if that bothers you. don’t forget to read warnings carefully before proceeding! and of course, MDNI

AKI’S NOTE. this year's KT is jjk-centric but with sprinkles of other fandoms! 1st and 3rd fics of the week are drabbles / one-shots, 2nd fic contains multiple characters, 4th fic is gojo <3 a few pieces are in collaboration with @ficsforgaza (**) please check out other writers’ works as well! hope you enjoy my little kink-slash-gojoctober ♡

LINKS. general masterlist ┆ ffg kinktober masterlist

⟢ ┈ ﹒꒰ 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝟏 ꒱

10.01 ┆ WEBCAM ┆ Endo

10.03 ┆ HATE SEX ┆ JJK Men

10.04 ┆ COERCION ┆ Al-haitham

10.05 ┆ SUGAR DADDY ┆ Gojo

⟢ ┈ ﹒꒰ 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝟐 ꒱

10.07 ┆ DUBCON ┆ Childe **

10.09 ┆ SQUIRTING ┆ JJK Men

10.10 ┆ DILDO + FINGERING ┆ Sukuna

10.12 ┆ BONDAGE ┆ Gojo

⟢ ┈ ﹒꒰ 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝟑 ꒱

10.13 ┆ SEX POLLEN ┆ Sakusa

10.15 ┆ PANTIES ┆ JJK Men

10.17 ┆ CORRUPTION + AGE GAP + DILF ┆ Nanami

10.19 ┆ BROTHEL + EXHIBITIONISM ┆ Gojo

⟢ ┈ ﹒꒰ 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝟒 ꒱

10.20 ┆ OMORASHI + CUNNILINGUS ┆ Choso

10.22 ┆ DEGRADATION + HUMILIATION ┆ Haikyuu Men

10.24 ┆ HATE SEX II ┆ Sukuna **

10.26 ┆ ROUGH SEX + MONSTERFUCKING ┆ Gojo

⟢ ┈ ﹒꒰ 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝟓 ꒱

10.28 ┆ CUCKOLDING + DP ┆ Jin + Sukuna

10.29 ┆ KNOTTING ┆ JJK Men

10.30 ┆ CORRUPTION + VIRGINITY LOSS ┆ Bakugo

10.31 ┆ FREE USE ┆ Gojo

pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎

[devoti]

★ 𝟑𝟑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐄𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 ★

𝟏. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦?

A: Kyoto

𝟮. 𝐈𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐭𝐨?

A: Yes, Kyoto

𝟑. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐣𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧?

A: Not likely. Either as a child, he was taken along on missions as part of an "elite Jujutsu Sorcerer training" of the big three clans. Or he just moved to Tokyo when he was little.

𝟒. 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨?

A: It was Gojo's wish. He was fed up with his overbearing family.

𝟓. 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞? 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐬?

A: They're alive. They've gained a higher status within the Gojo clan by giving birth to Gojo Satoru, but they're not particularly strong as Jujutsu Sorcerers, so they were separated from Gojo at a young stage. (Because they can't be involved in his education as a Jujutsu Sorcerer)

𝟔. 𝐈𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝?

A: He's an only child. Since he's one of the three big clans, he has many relatives, but because he was treated specially, he most likely did not have normal interactions with his relatives.

𝟕. 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗𝟔, 𝐎𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲?

A: He ran away from his home and was just wandering around.

𝟖. 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬?

A: Not really, athough his training as a jujutsu sorcerer and his education as a member of one of the big three clans were rigidly implemented, he often skipped and escaped, so he had a fair amount of fun.

𝟗. 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬? 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦?

A: He had lots of experience.

𝟏𝟎. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨'𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?

A: Gojo has a pretty plain uniform and hasn't customized it much. Geto's uniform, on the other hand, makes you wonder how he got that idea to make it like that.

𝟏𝟏. 𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥?

A: He eventually stopped using it because Ieiri found it creepy, and he probably wasn't too particular about it anyway.

𝟏𝟐. 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥?

A: He did.

𝟏𝟑. 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡?

A: He had sunglasses on to prevent seeing too much with his six eyes so its natural of him to have them on before HS but I hate imagining middle school Gojo with sunglasses so lets not go there.

𝟏𝟒: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬?

A: Probably not a lot. He's a member of the three big clans, and on top of that, he's simply a really strong underclassman, so he was probably difficult to approach.

𝟏𝟓. 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮?

A: The basics of Jujutsu were completed within the Gojo family, so he probably did have a mentor there. As for his technique, he had to work hard on his own based on remaining records of it.

𝟏𝟔. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧? 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬?

A: He receives a monthly salary, so he doesn't receive his salary as a one-time payment. Mei Mei is an exception. As a Special Grade sorcerer, he probably earns a salary comparable to that of a minister. Additionally, as the head of the Gojo family, he has considerable assets from that as well. In any case, Gojo is rich.

𝟏𝟕. 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫?

A: Probably not.

𝟏𝟖: 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫?

A: Probably not, a freeloader or a swallow (man taking care of older women financially)

𝟏𝟗. 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐬?

A: Probably not. If I had to say it would probably be him unable to stop Geto

𝟐𝟎. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲?

A: He was pissed when Itadori died, so I think he does. But I think there is also a part of him that has resigned himself to the death of his comrades. He sees it from the perspective that anyone other than himself could die at any given moment.

𝟐𝟏. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭? 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐲?

A: I can't really imagine itr but he's probably happy when he meets someone with talent as a Jujutsu Sorcerer

𝟐𝟐. 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐞?

A: He can probably speak a little bit of english

𝟐𝟑. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡?

A: He spaces out instantly, but the real issue is that the output of his CT starts bugging out.

𝟐𝟒: 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞? 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬?

A: Very unlikely. Even if he has one, he would probably pass with a single test and just become a paper driver.

𝟐𝟓. 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭" 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬?

A: HIS PERSONALITY

𝟐𝟔. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬?

A: HIS PERSONALITY

𝟐𝟕. "𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠" 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤?

A: It's not like he can't cook, but he doesn't cook very often.

𝟐𝟖: 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝟐𝟓𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐘𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬? 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐯 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧?

A: He gives the impression of walking into an expensive store, buying things without looking at the price tag and after seeing its expensive price, he thinks "Well it's fine" and repeats it again.

29. Does he likes mountains or the beach?

A: 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡.

30. Dog or cats?

A: 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

31. Bread or rice?

A: 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝟑𝟐. 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭𝐲? 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐲? 𝐎𝐫 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬?

A: Every Jujutsu Sorcerer are all basically right handed (because I can see myself getting things wrong if I dont draw them that way) but athletes use their non dominant skillfully with various tasks so I dont really worry about that when I'm drawing.

𝟑𝟑. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 (𝐀𝐤𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤). 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦?

A: 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

(Source)

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 ꕤ

-> welcome to jiniretracha's 2024 kinktober, a collection of nsfw drabbles that follow a determined prompt for each day of october. here are the idols and prompts featured in this list:

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏 - lee minho / hate sex

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐 - lee felix / virginity loss

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑 - bang chan / daddy kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟒 - kim taehyung / pregnancy kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟓 - min yoongi / somnophilia

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 - hwang hyunjin / bondage kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟕 - jeon jungkook / praise kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟖 - cha eunwoo / lingerie use

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟗 - choi soobin / phone sex

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 - sim jake / masturbation

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟏 - choi beomgyu / exhibitionism

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 - kim taehyung / morning sex

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟑 - park seonghwa / sex tape

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒 - bang chan / size kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓 - lee heeseung / degradation

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟔 - jung wooyoung / brat taming

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟕 - hwang hyunjin / face sitting/fucking

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖 - lee felix / shower sex

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟗 - jeon jungkook / marking

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎 - min yoongi / mirror sex

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏 - sim jake / cockwarming

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐 - cha eunwoo / handcuffs

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟑 - song mingi / riding

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟒 - park seonghwa / thigh riding

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟓 - lee minho / spanking

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟔 - lee heeseung / role play

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟕 - jung wooyoung / breeding kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖 - hwang hyunjin / hand kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟗 - song mingi / titfucking

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟎 - jeon jungkook / jealousy kink

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑𝟏 - lee felix / sex pollen

────୨ৎ────

𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 <3

masterlist // ko-fi

[sunniskyies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Domestic fluff as you both settle back into life together <3 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Literally just fluff, a bit of being a guardian figure to the kids 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k 𝐀/𝐍: You guys are SO SWEET about the last one, so here's more fluff for you beautiful old man addicts <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

The kids are in bed— well, mostly. You can hear the chirp of excited conversation through the ceiling. It was late, Stan and Ford’s explanation taking a long, long time. It didn’t help that the retelling got as thick and awkward as wet cement when it came to talk of Ford’s portal, and the events leading up to his departure.

Exhaustion tugs at every battered bone in your body, but you’re so content you might as well be purring like a kitten in front of a roaring fire.

You're curled up bridal-style across Ford’s lap, his arms enveloping you; warm, cradling, completing. He’s donned an old red knit jumper he fished out of his old chest of drawers. It smells like it belongs in a museum, sort of dusty and woodsy. Your face is pressed to his chest, and you feel much younger than your age. It feels like your first day in this house, the two of you huddled on a sagging mattress giggling and talking of futures and other such nonsense; youthful, hopeful, infatuated.

Now the two of you are more than thirty years on, enfolded together like the pages of a book left on an old yellow reading chair. You don’t speak, saving that long conversation for a lick of sunlight and mugs of coffee cupped in hand. No, right now you just sit in silence, Ford’s large hands stroking dust from your hair, a thumb gently soothing the bruise forming on your temple where you struck the wall.

Still unaware of the time except for the inky night hanging in the air, you feel Ford shift. His arms move, body ready to stand up with you. He stops when he notices two large pupils staring up at him curiously.

“You’re still awake, dear,” he smiles, voice quiet. “Let me take you to bed, I must lock up downstairs, make sure nothing vile is seeping through that blasted portal.”

“Ford, no, let’s go to sleep. You can do that in the morning,” you say, trying to ward off the edge of desperation edging into your tone. You can’t help but remember the miserable months of nights in a cold bed while your lover hid away in the basement, sleeping on his desk rather than with you. It has to be different— he’s better now.

Ford doesn’t share your fretting. “No, it’s not stable. Reopening the portal… it’s not safe to leave these things.” He continues to stand up, your body delicately draped over his arms. He seems to notice your expression. “I’ll join you soon, love.”

You doubt that. He’ll probably be there ‘till morning, his simple task snowballing as his keen eyes notice the slightest things amiss. “No, that won’t happen. No, no, I’ll join you. I’m rather accustomed to the portal myself after all this time with it.” You dismiss, stretching a leg to try and stand on the floor.

Ford bundles you up closer, “Absolutely not! You need rest, I swear I will join you.” He begins carrying you to the hall. Your fingers clutch the red fabric of his sweater. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you murmur plaintively, the corners of your mouth downturned. You miss the way Ford’s heart stutters, your eyes all hopelessly syrupy and mournful through your lashes.

He hesitates.

“Please? You can stay down there any other night I promise, just stay this time.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want that. Not again,” he says firmly. “Okay… I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

You immediately relax again, at ease in the rhythm of Ford’s steps as he carries you to your room. A stupid grin hijacks your face as he ever-so-gently places you under the sheets (he remembered what side of the bed). You watch from your nest of sheets as he gets ready for bed in the soft lamplight, lifting up the duvet for him to slide in next to you.

His arm around you, frothy sheets up to your neck— you think you might die here and now for how perfect everything feels. You feel his nose bump the top of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair.

“If you’d have told me this morning that… that today would be the day I would’ve never believed…” you say, heavy eyelids closing as you're interrupted by a yawn. You feel his chuckle reverberate where you lean into his chest. 

“Go to sleep, sweetness.” He murmurs, tone laced with a smile. There are his hands again, rubbing soft circles on your arm, your hair. He might as well be rubbing in anaesthesia, his touch lulling you to sleep. Darn you Pines.

Before sleep pulls you under, “I’m so glad your back, Stanford,” slips quietly from your lips. Ford’s heart skips again. Arms tighten around you as if you’re a precious photo about to float away on the wind; skin softly creased from a lifetime of loving, hair matte and grey like faded ink from thirty years of waiting.

“I’m more grateful than you could ever know, my dear,”

A stretch trembles through your warm limbs, the aches from last night dulled by a deep slumber and the warm morning sunlight soaking through the window. A thrill passes through you, your arm sliding through the sheets to Stanford’s side and—

A cry pours from you as your hand meets cold, empty space. Your body is jolted upright, perspiration glistening on your forehead. Your heart is hammering, lungs gulping in buckets of air. Where is he? Where is Ford? Did he come through the portal? Did it really happen? You don’t register the wail emanating from you, nor do you register the pound of heavy boots down the hallway.

“____ are you okay?!” Ford exclaims, almost slamming into the door as he hurries in. His hand is tense, hovering above the gun strapped to his belt.

The sight of him— the feeling you get is so overpowering it’s nauseating. Your paralysed limbs untense, body slumping in relief.

“Goddammit Stanford Pines, you just gave me the fright of a lifetime,” you bemoan, uninvited tears swimming beneath the sieve of your hands. You don’t see as his face goes from confused to slack with realisation.

“Oh,” He groans. “Oh sweetness I’m so sorry.” Feeling horrible, he leans on the bed to pull you into him, rubbing your back. “I should’ve waited for you to wake up, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I probably scared you half to death.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. As much as you are connected to Ford, thirty years has changed both of you, and you find yourself —embarrassingly— feeling like you need to impress him, like a teenager with a crush. God forbid he thinks ill of you!

You relish his rumble of a laugh. “I thought a monster slipped by me or something! I’m grateful you're okay.”

“Yeah, well, I think you might’ve just taken a year off my life, Ford.” You roll your eyes lovingly, a few of the last of those silly tears escaping.

After getting up and pulling on some summer-friendly clothes, you slip down to the kitchen to find the morning well underway. The sun is beating through the windows, and Dipper is sat cross legged on the floor reading a book. He’s reading with the cover down, but his furtiveness is wasted on you; you know he's reading A Good Girl's Guide to Murder. ‘Mature murder mystery books’ indeed, Dipper!

At the kitchen bench, Mabel is haphazardly balanced on a stack of books, multiple propped open at once. From the batter congealing the pages together and the fact that most of the books are iced, you know they are cookery books. And a cookbook in Mabel’s hands is either as dangerous as a matchbook to a forest, or as useless as shoes to a fish.

By the looks of it, it is the latter. Although, is there a faint… burning?

“Great Aunt ___!” Mabel squeals, revealing sprinkle-harbouring braces. “I'm baking, look I’m baking! See, I had this great idea to try and substitute the liquids in my Mabel Cakes with Mabel Juice because Grunkle Ford has never had either —can you believe that? Me neither, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone and make them together… but I didn’t realise the plastic dinosaurs in the juice would melt in the waffle iron!—” You try to cut off the young girl’s 100-mile-an-hour babble, but that girl is unstoppable.

You wince as she holds up two fists of semi-cooked, eye-wateringly bright gobdules of cakey dough. You, pained, notice the half-melted dinosaurs, faces in liquified agony as strings of molten plastic drip from their bodies. Matchbook in forest, matchbook in forest!

“—So now it’s a bit of a Jurassic Park, another reason why I think Grunkle Ford will love it, even if it’s a bit of a.... disaster. But if you think about it it’s more like a Magical Mabel Disaster! And oh, I added extra sprinkles because you can never have too many sprinkles! Do you think the hardened dinosaurs will make up for the uncooked dough? Or should I cook it more? Doesn’t matter, it’ll taste great!”

You give her a wobbly smile, mostly because you fear what might happen if you open your mouth.

“I tried to stop her,” Dipper mutters from between his pages, voice smug and matter-of-fact.

“Oh don’t act like you're so grown-up, you’re reading a little girl's book,” she retorts in a sing-song. Dipper slams his book closed, the tips of his ears matching the cover.

“I think you’ll find it’s very sophisticated and easy to digest—”

You let the twin’s bickering fade into the background as you begin to tidy up the carnage Mabel’s baking attempt has left. Usually, she gets distracted by things quite quickly, leaving Mabel-messes scattered around for anyone to find. You don’t mind it though, all too glad to slide the Mabel Cake into the bin. You shiver. Those plastic faces… they haunt.

Ford was back down in the basement, the sounds of clanging and buzzing drifting up through the weary floorboards. You want to go down there, but that silly part of you doesn’t want to disturb him again today. No— that’s ridiculous! Ford loves your company, you don’t get in his way —it’s not like it was when Bill was around.

Five minutes later, you're standing in the small room in the basement holding a cup of coffee and a salvaged Mabel Cake. You see Ford through the glass, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tools being used and replaced back onto his belt. He’s hauling colossal slabs of metal from the sides of the portal, the machine slowly being stripped down to bone. Like a massive carcass, it creaks and groans as Ford’s tools slice away at its flesh, and you hope he’s staying well out the way each time pieces of it fall to the floor like toppling trees.

After a few moments, Ford seems to notice you through his welding mask, though you can’t see his face through the tinted visor. He perks up though, dropping a massive saw to the ground and hurrying over.

“Hello, my dear! Is it too noisy?” He says as he slips through the door, pulling off his helmet and drawing you in for a sheepish kiss.

“No, just bringing you some of Mabel’s baking efforts— you don’t have to eat it, but she was awfully excited.” Ford surveys the cake with a smile, and you resist the urge to wipe the smear of soot from his cheek. 

“Thank you. For the sustenance, and for, uh, for checking in,” he says sincerely. Is that a flush you see? Your suspicions are confirmed when you set the coffee aside and bring him in for a deeper kiss, blouse-clad arms sliding around his neck, and you feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin.

The relief you feel! You’re not the only one navigating these unknown emotions, that the man who’s mapped the multiverse is also feeling the giddy nerves you are. Your skin prickles where his degloved hands bear your skin.

It feels strange to be held romantically after so long of loneliness. It’s not that you haven’t found love with the kids and Stan, but you could never bring yourself to even look at another in the way you used to look at Ford. Even if you never finished the portal, you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone, satisfied at least in the knowledge of how it felt to be loved, once. It excites you childishly knowing just by his kiss that Ford felt the same, the way he cradles you in his gaze and with his hands as if he’s trying to reabsorb every inch.

When you break away, his eyes open after yours, and he seems to be at a loss for what to say.

“Do you, um, want to go for a walk this evening? You haven’t left the shack yet, and we haven’t truly caught up…” you offer shyly.

“Yes! That would be… splendid! Spectacular. This evening. Perfect.” He blurts. The calm of last evening has clearly floated away in the daylight for both of you.

“Perfect.” You repeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14, @2hiigh2cry, @taffycandyqt, @papi-machucha, @muffin1304

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[magicdustsworld]

𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

A guide on how to properly date your tattooed, big, bad boyfriend.

Tropes: Established relationship, slice of life, grumpy x sunshine

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟐

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟑

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟒

more TBA

Divider credits - @/cafekitsune

[kpopcafeeee]

𝐀 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 ⚾️ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

➪𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐝! 𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➪𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝, 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦. 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧..?

➪𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚

➪ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟕

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟖

𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐜𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞𝐞 ©

DO NOT COPYRIGHT, OR PLAGIARISE!

[intoxicated-chan]

❝𝐉𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐒❞ ↳ 𝐃. 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

Inspired by “Judas” by Lady Gaga // Best viewed in Dark Mode

You were part of the tight-knit group that consisted of you, Rick Grimes, Lori Grimes, and Shane Walsh. The married couple made a bet if you and Shane would end up together, they both knew Shane liked you, and you would say you were interested but not really.

Yet you felt like something was missing, you found the idea of being with Shane depressing. If it wasn’t for Andrea and Amy dragging you to a bar, you never would’ve met the man that flipped your life around. The man in the black leather jacket with the name JUDAS printed on the back.

Daryl ‘Judas’ Dixon…

Paring ➳ Biker!Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, MODERN AU/NO OUTBREAK, age-gap (Reader’s in late twenties, Daryl early forties), terribly written smut, violence, swearing, toxic relationships, mentions of marriage, mentions of having children…

CHAPTERS ↓ Tumblr Only

All of the titles are lyrics to Lady Gaga songs!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 ║ ❝𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐈𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ║ ❝𝐘𝐨𝐮❜𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑 ║ ❝𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐩 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐭❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ║ ❝𝐖𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐚 𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓 ║ ❝𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐈𝐭 𝐁𝐚𝐝, 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔 ║ ❝𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐞❜𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕 ║ ❝𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ║ ❝𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟗 ║ ❝𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧❜𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞❞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎 ║❝𝐈❜𝐦 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐰❞ (Coming soon!!)

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @cafekitsune and @benkeibear for the dividers. I use it all the time.