#*adds more torments* perfect

[godsfavoritescientist]

Another piece of the puzzle has clicked into place for my bill postfinale character arc fic >:]

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment. 

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey. 

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.” 

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?” 

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response. 

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates. 

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight���Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube. 

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!” 

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes. 

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

��Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher. 

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria. 

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[occamstfs]

Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes

Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam

Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.

This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.

Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.

Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.

On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”

Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”

“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”

Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor. 

Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”

Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.

Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly. 

There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change. 

His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food. 

Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.

He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.

He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.

He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can. 

As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.

This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?

He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.

He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”

Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”

Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.

The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.

He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well. 

His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).” 

He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”

Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.

For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.

[weebiewrites]

Things in the Miraculous movie that were way better than the show

Everything

Ok but actually, adjustments made in the movie that vastly improved the show’s canon:

Marinette’s awkwardness being equally applied to everyone she interacts with. Having her reputation be that she is a walking disaster makes Adrien’s (and Alya’s) kindness to her more impactful. Also makes Chloe’s bullying more believable. IN GENERAL makes Marinette’s character more believable.

In the same realm, the entire school and world not revolving around how perfect and cool Adrien is fixes SO. MANY. THINGS. The only person at school who seems to care about his status is Chloe, which not only makes his overall character less annoying, but also adds to Chloe’s characterization.

Speaking of Chloe, making her an actual character and not a bitch who torments her classmates relentlessly for no reason? Like yeah she’s still a bitch and a bully but she has sense of decorum and won’t take it too far if her reputation is on the line.

Sabrina having agency? Hello??

The subtilization of Marinette’s crush on Adrien. Like, hello, she has a lot of shit going on! She doesn’t have time to be swooning over her classmate all day! Yet another thing that makes her more believable.

TIKKI AND PLAGG CHOOSING THEIR OWN HOLDERS. Fuck Fu. Kwamis are literal eldritch gods, why wouldn’t they have a bit of agency?

The entire sequence of Marinette saving Fu. A clever way to have Fu meet the holder while still having Tikki be the one who chooses. Also way better storytelling for him to not intentionally put himself in danger to find a holder, makes the whole thing more organic.

The addition of the rule that the Tikki and Plagg only awaken when there’s a miraculous-level threat. Gives actual purpose to the role of the Guardian, imo.

Unpopular opinion but Tikki’s personality change was great. Once again, literal eldritch God!

Not to harp on this, but once again, the kwamis still having some level of control and AGENCY even when their holders are transformed. Tikki being in Ladybug’s yo-yo and actually guiding her was cool af and WHY WOULDN’T SHE BE ABLE TO DO THAT???

Ladybug and Chat having more general abilities BUT not having their special abilities right away. The sequence where Chat caught the invisible bullet? Cool af. And Ladybug NOT having the reset button right away really raised the stakes and honestly just felt right. It was really rewarding and triumphant when she used it towards the end.

The earrings/ring glowing as a way to communicate when one of them is not transformed. Such a good and cool idea.

Adrien and Marinette frequently hanging out together in a group with Alya and Nino without it being weird!!! Jesus!! Let the kids be kids!!!!!

Gabriel Agreste being less of a piece of shit.

Chat Noir’s “You’re my sidekick!” To, “I’m your sidekick!” progression. Followed by Ladybug’s, “we’re partners!” Immaculate.

Marinette gaining confidence as Marinette from being Ladybug AND ALSO SPECIFICALLY from her partnership with Chat Noir. LET THE SUPERHERO CHILDREN HAVE A MEANINGFUL AND UPLIFTING PARTNERSHIP FFS

Speaking of, LADYNOIR HANGING OUT

LADYNOIR PLAYFIGHTING

Ladybug liking Chat romantically maybe before the 5th fucking season? Making Chat’s first confession less cringey bc she actually really likes him back and totally wants to kiss him? Being internally conflicted ab it?

Marinette confessing right after she gently lets Chat down for the first time, literally perfect angst set up

Adrien BEING ABLE TO STAND UP TO HIS FATHER. Fuck Sentiadrien.

Gabriel being capable of feeling human emotions

Identity reveal

[creamflix]

ryomen sukuna x gn/m/f reader; established relationship, fluff !!, painting his nails <3 – masterlist here ☆～（ゝ。∂）

it’s one of those rare afternoons where sukuna’s not wreaking havoc or tormenting anyone. instead, he’s lying back on your couch, his head resting lazily against the cushions, legs spread in that annoyingly arrogant way that screams king of curses. but today? today, he’s just your sukuna.

you sit cross-legged on his lap, holding his massive hand in yours, trying to focus on the nail polish brush. you picked a dark plum color—something that might not make him roll his eyes too hard—but you secretly wanted to pick a bright pink. maybe next time.

“hold still,” you murmur, dipping the tiny brush into the bottle.

he huffs, amused. “you really think this is necessary?” his deep voice rumbles, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“absolutely,” you reply, not even looking up at him, too focused on getting the first coat just right. “besides, it’s not like you had anything else planned for today.”

he lets out a low chuckle, his chest vibrating under you. “you’re lucky i’m bored, little one.”

you bite back a smile, brushing the color onto his thumbnail carefully. “and you’re lucky i’m so good at this.”

“tch,” he scoffs, though there’s no bite in it. his crimson eyes are watching you closely, studying the way your brows furrow in concentration, how your tongue pokes out a little when you’re trying to perfect the edges of his nail.

his fingers twitch ever so slightly as you work on the next one. you shoot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “if you keep moving, i’m gonna mess up, and then i’ll have to start over.”

“maybe that’s the point,” he teases, his smirk widening just enough to show a hint of his sharp teeth.

you narrow your eyes at him, feigning annoyance. “don’t test me.”

he chuckles again but settles down, letting you continue your work. as you paint, the atmosphere between you is comfortable, surprisingly domestic. the way his hand feels in yours—so much larger and rougher, but oddly gentle right now—makes your heart swell.

halfway through the second hand, he speaks again, voice quieter this time. “you enjoy this, don’t you?”

“painting your nails?” you glance up, meeting his gaze, and there’s something soft in his eyes, something that makes your breath hitch for a second. “yeah, i guess i do.”

“why?” he asks, and it’s not mocking, just curious.

you pause, brushing the last bit of polish onto his pinky nail before setting the bottle down. you think for a moment, then shrug. “because it’s… different. it’s peaceful. plus,” you add with a grin, “you look really cute with painted nails.”

he snorts, though his eyes gleam with amusement. “cute, huh? you're trying to ruin my reputation?”

“maybe,” you tease back, grabbing the topcoat to seal in your hard work. “but let’s be real, who’s gonna say anything to you about it?”

his grin sharpens at that, but there’s something softer beneath it now. “they’d be smart not to.”

as you finish up, you hold his hand up for inspection, turning it this way and that. the dark plum color looks surprisingly good against his skin, and the sight of his nails—painted and shiny—brings a strange warmth to your chest.

“there,” you say softly, smiling up at him. “what do you think?”

he looks at his hand, turning it over slowly like he’s really inspecting it. for a moment, you think he might make a snarky comment, but instead, he just hums. “not bad. could’ve been worse.”

“wow, high praise,” you laugh, setting the polish aside and grabbing his other hand to let it dry properly. you blow on his fingers gently, watching as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“you’re really into this, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice still low, but now it’s tinged with something softer, more amused than before.

“maybe,” you admit, still blowing lightly on his nails. “it’s not every day i get to paint sukuna’s nails, you know?”

“don’t get used to it,” he warns, but there’s no real edge to his voice. in fact, he looks… relaxed. like he’s enjoying this quiet moment with you as much as you are.

you grin, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his knuckles, your lips brushing over the tattoos there. “too late. i’m already used to it.”

he watches you for a beat, and though his usual smirk is still there, it’s softer, more content. “you’re something else.”

“i know,” you reply cheekily, setting his hand down gently on the armrest so the polish can finish drying. “but i’m your something else.”

“that you are,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible, but you hear it. and for a moment, the king of curses looks almost… peaceful, his sharp edges softened by the quiet warmth between you.

as you lean back against his chest, feeling his strong arms wrap loosely around your waist, you can’t help but smile to yourself. this might not be the life anyone expected for sukuna—domestic, soft, even a little silly—but it’s yours. and it’s perfect.

“next time,” you say with a smirk of your own, tilting your head to look up at him, “i’m thinking pink.”

he groans, rolling his eyes, but the small, affectionate squeeze he gives your waist says everything he won’t. “don’t push your luck.”

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[dark-konohagakure2]

Gaara ‘taming’ virgin reader for not staying in her place as a woman

tw: dub/noncon, age difference, power imbalance, gags, nipple clamps, misogyny, best friend's dad, overstimulation, brat taming, sex toys, kidnapping

All characters depicted are 18+

Gaara isn't terribly controlling of who Shinki can and cannot be friends with, the boy is all grown up now after all and Gaara wants his adoptive son to have a relatively normal and carefree life, but there is one friend of his son's that just rubs Gaara the wrong way, she's loud and tomboyish, never using manners or honorifics when speaking to her elders, not even with the Kazekage himself. Gaara is no helicopter parent, but even he can tell that this young lady is a bad influence.

He won't force Shinki to stop being friends with the girl, the both of them are adults so technically Gaara can't force them to do anything, but what he can do is use his authority as Kazekage to teach the unruly girl a lesson before she ends up getting his son into some serious trouble with that attitude of hers. Despite her rebellious personality, she'll have no choice but to show up when she'd suddenly summoned by her Kazekage for seemingly no reason at all.

Being both a parent and a world leader, Gaara has perfected the act of speaking in a firm tone that brooks no argument. He'll tell her that she's committed a grave slight against him personally, and that he's going to have to punish her himself. She'll have no idea what on earth Gaara is talking about, and he doesn't elaborate, simply informing her that she requires some serious reeducation in how a proper Sand kunoichi behaves.

Before long she's forcibly on his knees underneath his wooden Kazekage's desk, gagged and bound with her hands behind her back, her sensitive nipples aching from the tight clamps attached to them, the link nubs hurting even more everytime Gaara lazily tugs the thin chain attached to them. Her pussy doesn't fare much better either, not even there's a large dildo inside her, gravity forcing her down onto it, and a vibrator attached to her clit at the lowest setting, she can't even protest or even whine with her noises muffled by the ball gag in her mouth.

"Hush down there. I'm trying to do my work. Good girls should be seen and not heard... Perhaps if you knew that beforehand, we wouldn't be in this position, now would we?"

Gaara, despite his insisting on being the one to correct her bad behavior, doesn't speak much, more concerned with his paperwork than with some bad girl who doesn't know the first thing about being ladylike. He'll mostly just tug on the clamp leash whenever she moves too much, or very lightly kick her if she's being too loud for him to concentrate on what's actually important.

The fact that she's under his desk, just barely concealed by the table, adds an additional layer of humiliation to the ordeal, it's impossible for her to tell if any of Gaara's subordinates or siblings who stop by the office can hear the sounds of her whimpers or the low hum of the vibrator tormenting her hardened clit. Despite being hidden from view, she feels all the more exposed.

Gaara will adjust the settings on the vibrator aimlessly, not sparing either her nor the small remote so much of a glance as he continues the monotonous paperwork, he seems more preoccupied with the boring documents than with the writhing girl beneath him, as if deigning to spare her a glance is beneath him, as if she is beneath him.

He's going to make her cum, it's only a matter of time, for the human body can only take so much internal and external stimulation before it breaks, and she'll break alright, all over her Kazekage's shoe in fact. Gaara won't be very happy about that, giving a stern glare at both her perceived disobedience and the mess she made on him.

"Bad girl. Very bad. I told you not to cum. Getting rid of your bad habits is going to take longer than I thought. Much longer..."

He's the Kazekage, so nobody, not even his own son or siblings will bat an eye when Gaara feigns concern after receiving a repost that a young kunoichi, a friend of his son's, has mysterious gone missing, they're all none the wiser to the fact that their 'missing' shinobi is right under their noses, or more accurately; right underneath their Kazekage.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Rings of Power Masterlist

*all fics posted so far are x reader, written with fem!Elf!reader in mind

These works are also being gradually added to my ao3 account.

🎀 - contains smut

-> Sauron

Ruin - in which you share a moment alone in the forge

Misled - in which he tries to convince you that your father, Lord Celebrimbor, is the darkness you saw in the Unseen World

Distraction - in which he blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Choice - in which you try to persuade Halbrand to follow you to the Southlands, regardless of his past

Decision - in which you find out why Halbrand has been distant despite the intimacy you shared in Númenor, and now it’s your turn to decide whether or not to follow him on the path ahead

Perfect illusion - in which you have to sit at your father’s side while Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

🎀 Inspiration - In which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

🎀 Further inspiration - in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

-> Evil!reader (chronological order)

* technically these share the same reader, but as the fics were not written in chronological order, each of them is either self-contained or has some info beforehand so it’s not too confusing wherever you start. So feel free to read them as a series or simply pick what sounds good to you.

* playlist for vibes

*some crazy memes about these two here and here

Remade - in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

🎀 Tides of fate -> in which your newly returned husband is unsure of the path ahead, and the sea itself tries to deter you from the one you choose together

Reunion - in which your husband finally returns from his time in Númenor, and you make the most of the first moment you get him alone

As one - in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar

🎀 As we are now - in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject

A true gift - in which you share a private moment with your husband, then add a special little detail to his new look

Jealousy - in which you know he is only getting close to Mirdania as part of your plans, but it still bothers you

Reveal - in which you can’t seem to quell Celebrimbor’s suspicions, and he finally learns the true identity of you and your husband

🎀 Theatrics - in which Celebrimbor tries to expose you and your husband to the people of Eregion, but you play the role of the innocent maiden to perfection

Old Wounds - in which you guard Celebrimbor to make sure he finishes the Nine, and he makes the mistake of underestimating the bond you and your husband share

Kill and make up - in which you and your husband discover that Celebrimbor has escaped with the Nine, and it brings out the uglier side of your relationship

Defied - in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

The Two - in which Galadriel fights to withhold Nenya and the Nine, but in the end she fails to stop your husband placing yet another ring upon your finger

-> Galadriel

Lost - in which she sees you in her 2x02 vision instead of Celebrimbor

Blindly - in which you find Galadriel in the waters of the Glanduin, acting strange in a terrifying way

[cherrychilli]

18+

Steve Harrington x AFAB reader, grumpy dom! Steve, established relationship, PIV sex, car sex

A/N: I haven't written for Steve in a minute so I pulled this out of the wip vault and dusted it off.

The time to back out had passed.

Steve knew he couldn't disappoint the whole group now when it had already been decided that he would drive them out to the lake that Saturday afternoon. With Eddie's license suspended and Jonathan's car in the shop, there was no other option.

For someone who, on a regular day, looks golden in every possible way under a perfect cerulean sky, he stuck out like a storm cloud today.

Steve sat out on the dock with his shades on to shield his annoyed squint and a soda pressed to his lips to conceal his scowl, wishing it was a beer instead.

Those of you who weren't driving picked frosty bottles out of the cooler Eddie had stocked for the outing, bottle caps coming loose with a pop, the nutty aroma of grain and barley fizzing into the wind. It was more than a little amusing to you as you eyed Steve from over your beer, watching the poor boy stew.

On the surface you appear oblivious but you're well aware that your boyfriend's eyes are trained on you too, a heated, razor sharp stare behind those reflective lenses.

His simmering displeasure goes unnoticed by the rest of the group but when you start to strip down to your swimsuit with the others and head for the water it's only a matter of moments before they notice one less member wading in the water with them.

Inevitably, what he'd been dreading begins and he has to deal with it all day. Everyone takes turns asking Steve why he isn't getting in the water with them and each time he's forced to mutter out some vague excuse that only lifts more eyebrows.

It's obvious to everyone that he's hiding something and the stubborn way he tries to refute is comically adorable. Some lighthearted teasing ensues and you can almost see the steam rising off his skin.

Robin gets the ball rolling with a quip about him spending too much time on his hair to risk getting it wet. Eddie joins in on the teasing too. Nancy and Jonathan are too polite to add to it but they laugh off to the side and try to suppress their giggles all the same.

None of it is cruel. it's all harmless, well meaning fun between friends and it's all the more enjoyable for you because you're the only one who knows the real reason why Steve wont just peel off his shirt and get in the water.

If he did, then your friends would get to see the result of all your hard work last night. They'd see the messy, lengthy scarlet scratches that rawed the skin all down his back, the half moon indents turning violet on his triceps and shoulders and the many hickeys like splashes of merlot you sucked onto his chest and his stomach.

You've got a few marks on you as well but you're saved from suffering the same torment as Steve thanks to your waterproof concealer. He endures it all, forcing the occasional dry, humorless laugh until the sun begins to wind down and the rest of you towel off before lugging your belongings back to his car under a cotton candy sky.

It's a little snug inside the BMW but you make it work. You buckle yourself in the front seat and the others pile into the back. Nancy finds room in Jonathan's lap while Eddie's somehow been strong armed into the middle by Robin so she can have the window seat. He doesn't concede quietly and the resultant commotion in the back is enough to distract the backseat occupants from noticing the tension between you and Steve. Well, more so the tension that's emanating from Steve because you look no more unbothered than you had all day, humming to yourself inconspicuously. Waiting patiently.

Nancy and Jonathan are the first to be dropped off. Next is Eddie, and then Robin. You wave goodbye to her as Steve slowly presses down on the accelerator to begin the journey to your apartment, twenty minutes of being alone together starting now.

"You really put me through it today", he spoke, breaking the moment long silence.

Your lips form a pleased smile as you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. It was obvious where all of this was heading but riling him up was part of the fun and you didn't want it to end just yet. You wanted a little more before it's all teeth and ripped clothes when he gets you inside your apartment.

"I didn't make them say all those things, Stevie sweetie", you turn your head towards him and bat your lashes, the illusion of sweetness thick on your features.

His eyes stay fixed on the road, the vein near his temple more noticeable now. "You wore it on purpose, didn't you?", he sidesteps your comment like you hadn't even said it at all.

This time when you blink at him it's with confusion. "Don't play dumb, baby", he warns you with a laugh so mirthless that it draws a shiver out of you. "Oh..", you utter when you realize that he's referring to your strappy yellow bikini. The one he really really liked, because he made you keep it on all throughout riding him on on his sun lounger the last time you went over to swim in his pool. Not that you did much swimming in the end.

You'd been so wrapped up in all the teasing and what hid beneath the layers of his clothes that you'd paid little attention to what you'd been wearing all day.

"Wasn't bad enough that I had to deal with the others today. You had me fighting off a fucking hard on top of it all too."

Your gaze instantly drops to his lap. By the looks of the thick imprint of his cock underneath his jeans he seemed to be done fighting it off.

The car slows into a turn and you realize that you don't recognize your surroundings, much more greenery around than what you're familiar with. You'd had your eyes off the road long enough for him to divert from the route to your house, detouring off a backroad and into an unfamiliar clearing thickly nestled by trees and forestry.

You bite down on your lip to stem the grin that threatens to erupt on your face. This was much better than you'd been hoping for and happening much faster than you could stand to wait.

Pulling into the isolated space, he cuts the engine, car going completely still. "Come here", but he's already pulling you with forceful a hand curled around the back of your neck before you have a chance of following through yourself. It's ungainly how you fumble with unbuckling your seatbelt as it presses uncomfortably against your chest but you manage to unfasten it, leaning further over the console to get closer to him.

You whine when he latches onto your neck, sucking at the skin there not at all gently. If the taste of lake water and sunscreen still lingered on your skin, he showed no sign of it. At least not any sign of disliking it as his tongue licked over your skin and his teeth dragged close to your pulse. When he pulls away you can feel the wet warmth of the fresh hickey blooming on your skin and your heart beating in time with the subtle throbbing there.

It wasn't hard to imagine what it looked like. Deep and dark and reminder of who you belong to. "You're not covering it up this time, understand?", he tells you and you nod. As if you'd want to hide it.

He leans over you then and you retract into your seat to make room for him, back pressed firmly against leather. Steve's intention becomes clear when he pulls at the lever to adjust your seat. You squeak when it reclines abruptly and he climbs over you to push it all the way down.

"Get these off. Now", he orders you, not unkind but firm, pulling at the hem of your damp t-shirt and the waistband of your shorts. He's impatient but so are you, wiggling around and maneuvering your limbs messily underneath him as he helps you to peel the clothing off.

You manage to toe you shoes off as well, elbows and knees bumping Steve and parts of the interior until you're left in just your bikini. The frantic rush suddenly halts and things slow down when he runs a finger down your sternum until he reaches the little strap just below your breasts, hooking his finger into it. " 'Played dirty all day, didn't you honey? had your fun while I all I could do was sit back and watch?", he tugged, the bottom curve of your breasts becoming visible as the material slips.

"Couldn't help it", you breathe out, hands sliding up his biceps. " I like it when you get mean", you confessed softly, eyes all big and glossy and wanting. He laughs, hair falling over his forehead. "I know, baby. Gonna take my time getting back at you". He's done with the gentle interval, yanking your bikini down to expose your tits. You yelp, not because it was unexpected but because he'd done it a little harder than you had expected. A welcome roughness that made your core feel sticky.

He's all over you, weight pressing down on you as you writhe under him, gasping as he marks you up. More fresh bruises to match the one on your neck are peppered across your breasts first before his lips trail hot on your stomach and then your hips and your thighs. The noises he's forcing out of you are needy and pathetic, high pitched, breathy whimpers and mewling cries of his name all tumble from your lips until he pulls away to look over his work.

You're left panting as he appraises you, eyes raking all over in search of more space to fit another hickey or two. "Never looked better, babe", he sits back on his knees, grinning happily. "On second thought...", he grips your waist, encouraging you to turn around and get on your knees. You scramble to get into position, pulling loose the knot on your bikini top and tossing it towards the back seat so that it no longer hangs limply on you in a tangled mess. You grab at the headrest, bare tits pressing against leather as you arch your back for him and present your ass. "Now you've never looked better", he scoffs, open palm landing on your left cheek with a swift slap.

"Shit! please just fuck me already, Steve", you whine, beyond the point of playing dumb and coy.

He pulls your bottoms to the side, thumb brushing against your soaking entrance as he lets out a low whistle. It's a little strange being almost completely nude in his car like this. You usually had a little more clothing bunched around you on the off chance the rocking vehicle might attract any passersby's attention. It makes you feel that much more vulnerable. Hidden but still technically in public. Still at risk of being discovered.

It's all so terribly exciting.

The distinct jangle of his belt being undone makes your spine tingle and the crude sound of him spitting onto his palm before he tugs on his cock a makes you clench.

"Not gonna go easy on you", he warns, catching your eye when you look back at him over your shoulder.

"I can take it", you challenge him and you can tell by the way the corner of his mouth twitches against the smirk he's trying to force away that he liked it.

He places one hand on your hip and the other on the foggy window pressing his cock into you in one slow thrust.

"That's my girl"

---

The next day you anticipate Robin's reaction when she pretends to barf at the sight of the hickeys on your neck and you giggle, amused because you know never to take it seriously.

Eddie's slower to notice because the first thing he does is climb into the back seat of Steve's car after it's been parked, claiming to have dropped his lighter there yesterday.

"Did you find it?", Steve calls out behind him when he joins you and Robin as you get ready to head into a nearby burger joint for lunch.

There's a suspicious pause and some rustling before he finally yells out an answer.

"Nope! Found something better though"

Kicking open the door, Eddie barrels out with your bikini top sloppily thrown on over his shirt, batting his lashes at Steve like some kind of parody of a lovestruck cartoon.

You're too entertained by it to be embarrassed though you can't say the same for Steve who's turned completely red, placing a hand over your mouth as you snicker.

Puckering his lips, the metalhead makes eyes at your boyfriend and you double over with laughter while Robin rolls here eyes and makes her way inside, having had her fill of Eddie's theatrics.

"Come on big boy, fancy another round in the back seat?"

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Between your arms [S. R]

Spencer Reid x wife!reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: after a hard day Spencer returns to his safe place

A/N: I just finished the third season, imagine it's somewhere in there. And DAMN, with each passing chapter I fall more in love with this man

When Spencer got home, he was completely exhausted. The case had been delayed longer than expected and the fact that the jet had technical problems didn’t help in the least, so the total delay was 5 hours, so it was already late at night when he opened the door of your apartment. He strongly wished that you weren't awake or he would feel guilty and that concern dissipated when he noticed that you weren't lying on the couch as he had found you so many times.

Spencer needed to shower so he could somehow wash off the stress of the case and wash off the dirt he'd picked up during his stay in the woods. Fortunately the shower was far enough from the room to go unnoticed and he took his time, enjoying the hot water running all over his body, considerably relaxing the tension he had in his muscles. Once he left, Reid took a cotton pajama that he had packed in the suitcase, it had colored stripes on the white fabric and you had given it to him for a birthday many years ago. The fabric was already worn by time, but he loved the calming feeling it gave him, and the smell of your favorite fabric softener on it made him feel like he was right at home.

When he opened the door of your room he found you in bed, sleeping so peacefully that he felt some envy, but at the same time he smiled tenderly. He and you were very different when it came to sleeping: he couldn't fall asleep if he wasn't tucked in, he had a hard time doing it alone, he constantly woke up to go to the bathroom and he tossed and turned throughout the night. You, on the other hand, could sleep soundly as soon as your body touched the mattress, fully exposed, and you would stay in the same pose on your left side unless he asked you to reposition yourself. You slept on the inner side for reasons of practicality, because when he was late or had to leave due to an emergency it was easier for him to jump out of bed, and you always did it hugging a stuffed dog that Spencer had won for you in a fair.

Many people would think that getting married at 21 was crazy and even a couple of gossip told you that you were making a mistake or that it would only take a few months for one of you to file for divorce, but four long years had passed since then. Not everything was perfect, because there were arguments as in all marriages, and to that we had to add the constant stress that Spencer's work had, not only for him but also for you. Although, somehow, you had made it work and he always found the time to dedicate himself only to you, because he knew that you deserved it. You had a good position in a real estate company, nothing risky, and with hours that were always respected.

You two preferred not to think about it, especially him, but there was a degree of codependency in your relationship that you hoped wouldn't escalate into something sick or dangerous. You had had a difficult life, Spencer continued to have a difficult life, but little by little you two opened up to each other and the communication helped comfort what sometimes still tormented you. Reid had saved you from committing many idiots and if it wasn't for you, he didn't know how he could have faced situations or ghosts from his past. You were his reason for living and your apartment was that safe place where he could isolate himself from the whole world and live his own utopia. With you there was no suffering, there were no traumas, no crimes, no coworkers who ignored him... and when that existed, you were there to hug him tight and tell him that everything would be fine.

Honestly, the fear of becoming a burden plagued him frequently, but the two of you were trying to work through your own insecurities so that you could carry on your marriage in peace.

As soon as he felt his body touch the surface of the mattress, he moaned calmly and finally allowed himself to feel all the tiredness of the day, sure that it no longer mattered because he was in the right place to rest. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, enjoying the softness on which he was lying, until your gentle breathing next to him caught his attention. He hated waking you up during the night, but now more than ever he needed to feel you close and he considered that with such a heavy sleep you had his touch would hardly be noticeable. He moved enough to be able to wrap his arm around your entire waist and bury his head in your skin at the nape of the neck, but against all odds he heard you inhale heavily as a sign that you had noticed the grip.

“Spence?”

"I didn't want to wake you up" he apologized, as he kissed you on the shoulder to mask his remorse, although to be honest a part of him was very grateful to be able to talk to you.

"I wasn't asleep" you lied uselessly, because your voice betrayed your state of sleepiness. Careful not to let him let go of you, you turned around to face him and he smiled from ear to ear when even in the dark he noticed that you were smiling weakly at him "Did you just get there?"

“Things got difficult. We came back by train”

“Oh…” you hummed sympathetically. Your hands traveled deftly up to his face and you stroked with your thumbs, watching him turn to putty between your fingers. “Did you even have dinner? Let me make you something"

"No, no, darling," he hastened to say, stopping you from getting up to go to the kitchen. Honestly, hunger was the least of Spencer's worries at that moment, his mind was longing to receive your body heat and with some luck multiple kisses on the face and lips "Just stay here with me"

If in normal circumstances it was already difficult to deny your husband something, it was even worse when he whispered in that pleading tone, so you simply nodded and snuggled closer against him. His long golden hair tickled your nose and you realized that Spencer had used your conditioner again, even though he had promised not to do it again, but you didn't mind at all.

"You feel good?" you asked softly, as one of your hands traveled to the back of his head to stroke his head and you maneuvered your other arm for him to use as a pillow.

He was very protective as a husband, perhaps motivated by the fear that some of the horrible things he saw daily at his work would happen to you, and he constantly looked out for your well-being, but on those occasions when you took the time to pamper him after a terrible day, he swore that it was you who took care of him from the lurking monsters.

"I feel better now that I'm here," he confessed, the words slightly muffled by his lips on your skin. "I missed you."

"Oh, I know you did" you joked, now a little more lucid than at the beginning of the conversation. You were very interested in him being able to fall asleep, because once he did it, all you had to do was close your eyes to imitate him, and how to blame you? With that strong grip and his legs intertwined with yours, you felt total tranquility "I missed you too”

Your hand continued to untangle strands of his hair in an attempt to relax him and you stayed that way for a few minutes, until he broke the silence. You didn't understand at first, so you gently whispered in your ear for him to repeat it.

"I missed our nine o'clock show" it was inevitable to let out a soft laugh at the apparent priority issue of your beloved and you kissed him on the top of the head before answering.

"Yes, it is sad"

"Remember how I told you that Anita and the butler were having an affair?" he asked and you hummed affirmatively “Did I get it right?”

"Almost. She was having it with the gardener” you heard a defeated sigh under your chin and your smile only increased “Now you owe me five bucks”

“Too bad, I don't have cash with me,” he muttered, pretending to be genuinely pained. “Would you accept another method of payment?” There was no need to ask what his suggestion was from him, the gentle kiss he placed on your shoulder spoke for itself.

“Yes, but there is a problem with the currency conversion. Five dollars equals approximately…” you took a moment to think of a suitable number and when you got it a smile escaped your lips “five hundred kisses”

“Five hundred kisses?!” Reid squealed from his hiding place in your chest "That's a huge debt"

"It is"

"I better start now huh?" he said flirtatiously. He started with quick kisses on whatever section of skin was within his reach that made you laugh out loud, then he continued up your neck with more careful caresses and by the time he reached your face the kisses were slow and so gentle that you felt die. But he wasn't so merciful to you, so his kisses touched almost your entire face except your lips. "Do you keep track?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you keep track of how many kisses I gave you?”

"Oh no, I guess you'll have to start over," you whispered, as you felt his smile against your skin as he planted a kiss right on your jaw "Or if you give me one on the lips, we're even”

Spencer didn't think twice to finally indulge your wishes and it was such a warm and deep kiss that you felt like a newlywed again. There were bad times, yes, but it was these moments that made you know that facing the rest was worth it.

"I love you very much, you know that?" he sighed, still with his eyes closed and his forehead resting on yours. You lifted your head a little just so you could steal another chaste kiss from him.

"I love you more, baby"

Spencer settled back, now lying entirely on your chest and you wrapped both arms around his waist while your hands traced uneven patterns on the striped fabric on his back. You asked your ear to please get some sleep and the soft beating of your heart was enough to calm him down until exhaustion overcame him.

If there was a perfect place in the world, he knew that it was between your arms.

[inlovewithl3vi]

I (a person with chronic and loose joints) find it hilarious when other people also head canon that demons cannot pop their joints.

Like I creep out people in my real life. When I started my job I actually warned my boss that I’d probably throw my arm out to the side to pop my elbow. I forget that other people can’t do that and I’ve worried people before. Also if you hug me too tight something might pop.

I can imagine the boys thinking they killed me… death by hug.

Ahhh I think that would be hilarious!

I can see this first happening with Asmo or mammon.

Like you were just walking to the kitchen to get a snack as you passed Asmos room. You noticed that the door was open but didn’t think much of it till you heard his cheery voice behind you. “MC!” You could almost hear the smile in his voice as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed.

He immediately stopped when he heard a pop. He just held you there, almost as if he was frozen in place. He moved his arms away and moved to stand in front of you, A horrified look on his face.

“MC…” you could hear his voice shake a little as he scanned you up and down. “Did- did I break something by hugging you?” Of course he started freaking out before you could get a word in.

“I didn’t know humans were that fragile! Solomon’s never broken anything that easily!” He continued looking over your body before you spoke up. “Nothings broken” you sighed, already knowing what happened. “Sometimes my joints just kinda pop. My bones crack too sometimes” you just shrugged As he looked at you.

“You mean… you’re not broken?” You looked at him and slightly sighed. “No, I’m not.” You then had to spend 20 minutes explaining that humans can in fact have things pop or crack and not have any injuries. Of course that was a new concept to Asmo, even though he does hangout with humans often. Demons and angels were made to be “perfect” so he was quite infested in what your body could do…

Of course I could also imagine this with Mammon too-

You two were sitting next to each other on the couch, watching a movie with the other brothers around you. Of course Belphie decided to pick a horror movie, saying that horror sometimes kept him awake (that was a lie, he picked it to torment Mammon.) while you were watching Mammon was already inching closer to you.

Suddenly a jump-scare appeared on the screen, causing Mammon to wrap his arms around you quickly and squeeze tightly. The movie was drowned out by the loud pop that came from you. Everyone stopped and looked at you and Mammon.

“Mammon… did you just… break the human?” Satan, who was previously reading a book, was already asking questions. You were about to start explaining that you weren’t broken when you hear Asmo squeal. “Get off of MC! Don’t break them more!”

Mammon pulled away, a panicked look on his face. He looked you over to Cheadle what was broke. You took the opportunity to say that you in fact were fine and not broken.

“So… humans just… do that?” Satan questioned you a little, clearly still concerned. “Everyone can crack their bones, like when you don’t move for a while and your stuff your bones crack. But sometimes my joints just pop” you shrug as they look at you in slight horror, even Belphie was completely awake. “Demons can’t do that… neither can angels” Satan adds.

You shrug and look back at the movie that was still playing. “I guess humans are just different”

[bucks-metal-arm19]

Okay, but Bucky has been gone all day and you were stuck home alone. It was the middle of your ovulation week, no less, and you were going feral. You stole one of his shirts to slip over your head, his joggers to cover your legs and tie off at your waist, and his dog tags to rest against your chest and stay warm against your bare breasts.

You wanted to smell like him. If you closed your eyes, you could almost taste him on your tongue. He was supposed to be home hours ago and he had promised to make your legs shake and keep your voice hoarse from choking on his thick, hard cock shoved down your throat. He promised and he was no where in sight.

So. You decided to torment him.

There was a dresser at the foot of your bed that was at a perfect height to aim your phone from so he would get a perfect view of your full, King-sized bed with you in the middle of it. You dimmed the lights and lit some candles to create a warmer, cozier, suggestive vibe before getting to work.

You set your camera to ‘video’ and started slowly slipping the joggers down your legs to pool at your ankles. You made sure to keep your back to the camera so he would get a full view of you bent over, ass on display with his favorite pair of lace panties stretched over the curve of your cheeks and disappearing between your thighs. He got a full view of you crawling up the bed and settling against the pillows, right in the middle of the frame.

“If you’re not gonna play with me, Mr.Barnes, I’m going to do it myself.” You told the camera in a sassy tone, pulling your knees up to spread your legs and show off the obvious dark spot of arousal in your panties.

“Since you won’t…” you drawled, arousal and need making your voice thick as you slid your fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged them down your legs and left them hanging around one ankle so he could see the full view of you.

“And you left your wife home alone to wait for you..” you continued, head falling back against the stack of pillows while one of your hands groped at your tits and hardened nipples while the other started making lazy circles around your pussy, your exposed clit.

“I’ll just have to make myself cum.” You had enough focus left to tug his Henley up your chest to expose your flushed chest and still love-bitten tits and the shiny metal of his tags keeping warm against your skin, giving him a view of everything you wanted to taunt him with.

“And not let you touch me.” Two of your dainty fingers curled into your leaking hole at that moment, quickly finding that spongy spot deep inside your wet cunt and causing stars to explode behind your eyelids. Your other hand stayed at chest level, pinching and pulling and rolling your nipples between your fingers to add extra sensation and finally get some needed relief.

It wasn’t Bucky’s hands, but it would do. Until he got home, at least.

You ended the video there and sent the message with it attached before you came apart on your own fingers, moaning out Buck’s name long and slow as the pleasure rushed through your body and you finally settled against the bed once more.

Laughter bubbled from your lips moments later as you saw his name appear on your phone screen and you swiped to answer the call with your index finger and tapped the button for speaker phone.

“What can I do for you, Mr.Barnes?” You asked lazily, voice still husky from your moans and whines for him that he didn’t get the pleasure to hear.

“I’ll be home in twenty minutes, Mrs.Barnes. You better be naked and waiting for me because that little stunt you pulled? You’re going to regret it.”

Click.

[arcanarix]

Make That Double, Ch6 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: non-con, blowjobs (with gojo), piv sex (protectd, with gojo), vibrators (with geto), overstim (with geto)

In spite of Geto’s adamant displeasure—a warning that feels like it’s been sewn with silken barbs—Gojo still returns for visits. He’s come here far too often, Geto has told you (and him), his voice a chilling undertone and thick with a hint of disdain, not necessarily toward Gojo himself. Not really.

And what can he possibly mean by this? You still are at a loss from his cryptic mumblings about some war between jujutsu sorcerers and humans, and the world of sorcery is an invisible force which exists just beyond the realm of your own understanding. Whatever it means, it shouldn’t concern you, and they both like to reiterate that fact to you on multiple occasions. These matters are well out of your scope, they both say, matters which are distant and incomprehensible to a mere human.

Yet you still can’t help but be curious.

Can they honestly blame you?

Gojo has returned to the temple at least three times this week, maybe more, slipping in between missions to join in on Geto’s shenanigans and his torment. The two certainly are a match made in Hell, the perfect power couple. Gojo always enters with that cheery, dark laugh and a touch laced too heavy with desire and much darker, sinister intent.

While he may be here for the thrill and doesn’t have that many strings attached to you, you fear the twisted pleasure that glows like lightning bugs in those sharp blue eyes of his. You suspect something running far deeper than some sick, twisted pleasure. He insists he just enjoys being around for Geto’s sake, but you doubt it.

A light gasp escapes your parted lips—an unintended slip of sound—as an arm snakes around your shoulders, slithering around them like a serpent, each finger that digs into your skin like a cold weight.

Ah, it’s just Tweedledum, drawing in close to you, his breath a teasing whisper against the nape of your neck that has chills dancing down your spine that sinks itself deep, settling like frost in your bones.

Your teeth clench, hiding behind the sweet mask you’ve worked so hard to build since you’ve been dragged here against your will. It feels like it can slip and fall at any moment like fragile porcelain.

“Hello there, Satoru,” you greet with your voice laden in that syrupy sweet warmth. God, do you long for the silence you used to just embrace back in your lonely days in your studio apartment between work and classes. Those moments of embracing that sweet solitude which, you have come to realize the longer you’re here, you have taken completely for granted. Now it’s a rarity to find time to yourself, solo moments slipping through your fingers like sand, much rarer like a jewel buried in the earth.

Silence is a gift you’re no longer permitted to own yourself, isn’t it? Neither is solitude.

It’s a foolish concept to consider humoring at this point.

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, sharply, letting the scent—faintly sweet, a faint note of fruit, a faint note of floral—consuming him like an addictive drug. “Missed you so much, Princess. Did you miss me?”

His words seep into the air, saccharine and venomous, laced with a dangerous edge, surrounding you like smoke from a dying candle made of black wax.

“Far, far too much, Satoru,” you reply, each word heavily enunciated and forced between your clenched teeth…the lie is cloying on your tongue. Betrayal. You feel betrayed by your own words.

Across the room, Geto observes you both, his gaze pressing onto your skin like scorching iron, silent yet all knowing. You know best not to test his patience, to toy with any chance he may disapprove of something. His very glance is a ball and chain tightening around your wrists, securing you in place.

You can’t say what you truly feel. You realize that.

Not now, at least. Not yet.

“I missed you far too much, Satoru,” you add just to fluff them up some more, laying it on so thick like buttercream slathered across a yellow cake. The words taste of poison rather than that sweet concoction, the poison sinking onto your tongue and contaminating your mouth with sweet, sweet lies that can only make them happy and pleased with you.

The bitterness of it all coils deep within your core, like a twisting knot of distaste, something you have come to wear well, the way an actress wears their character well. After all, you know how this all plays out—the lies all woven together with the threads which form their intricate web.

Every word you allow yourself to utter is just part of your plan—a way out, a possible fracture in their foundation.

A string of chuckles escapes Gojo’s glossed lips, low, soft, like the distant, ominous rumble of thunder. It’s far from comforting to you.

“You know,” he begins, his hand on your shoulder no sliding to your neck, fingers pressing into the delicate hollow just beneath your jaw, twisting you around to face his soft glowy eyes. “I’ve been thinking far too much about how good your mouth’s going to feel.”

His gaze dips to your lips, a dark twinkle sparking in his eyes. “Suguru said I could guide you, since you’re still new to this.”

Your entire body stiffens, muscles tensing under his vice grip. Of course he senses it—that little glimmer of resistance that ignites before you can suppress it, and he tuts at you softly, the mockery in his gaze sharpening as his lips curl into a petulant little pout.

“Come on, Princess,” he chortles, his voice dark, thick with derision, desire, and deeply condescending, as he guides you to kneel. Impatient hands move with surprising grace, as he unbuckles his belt, the click of metal against metal reverberating like the bell has tolled for you. You swallow hard on a lump that feels like a large chunk of coal, still possessing an air of defiance, but he only grins at you in something close to triumph. “Did you really think I could keep my hands off of you? I only did because Suguru told me I needed to go easy on you, and even he breaks his own rules like the damn hypocrite he is.”

“Satoru!” Geto’s voice cuts through, authoritative and cold. He’s now sprawled across the sofa, still maintaining a watchful eye, a faint frown creasing his face. A whole expression of displeasure etching his features like a master’s disapproving gaze. “Play nice, or I’ll have to restrain you.”

Gojo’s sharp blue eyes glowy with amusement, and he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“I am being nice,” he quips, his voice laden with a feigned innocence as his hand wraps around himself.

“Actually nice, Satoru,” Geto reprimands, his voice a low warning that hums through the room like the whirring of a machine.

“Oh, Suguru, you’re killing me here. Fine.” There’s still that petulant edge to his voice but he still surrenders, his gaze fixed on you, smirking as he observes that little flicker of fear and defiance in your gorgeous eyes.

While they’re bickering, you can’t help cowering over the idea of that in your mouth. You have no idea how good you’ll be, and you know well enough to understand that no man likes to feel teeth during a blowjob and your teeth surely will scrape and you don’t want to think about what kind of consequences could follow.

“I…I don’t think it can fit,” you squeak, and you hear the sickening cackles from both men.

“We’ll accommodate,” Gojo drawls, groaning as he brushes his stiff tip across your lips. You flinch. Geto soon approaches you from behind, cooing at you while patting your cheek.

“Open up, little dove,” he commands, his voice softer than what you’re used to—almost laden with a bit of jealousy? “Don’t make Satoru wait.”

With that, he grips onto your hair tight, and whimpering you pry your mouth open as much as you can, inching the head of Gojo’s cock inside. The salty tang of the skin hits your tongue, and you don’t know what to make of it. It tastes almost…zingy, like the taste of a battery.

“Oh fuuuuck yeah,” Gojo groans, eager, desperate, his blue eyes seemingly emitting a soft glow in the barely there lighting of the dungeon. “That’s it, Princess. Fuck, your mouth feels better than I imagined.”

You can’t speak, obviously. Not when you have this fuck’s dick in your mouth. You’re impressed you don’t gag.

And Geto pushes your head further until you engulf nearly half of Gojo’s impressive length. You kind of doubt you’ll be good at this, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

And Gojo clearly isn’t as patient as Geto.

The click! and whir! of a phone camera hits your ears and of course, of course they’re going to take a bunch of humiliating pictures like before, just to rub your nose into the dirt. You hate them both so much.

“Come on, little dove, a little more and you’ve got it all,” Geto instructs as he watches you inch the rest of Gojo’s length into your mouth. You can control your gag reflexes, thank God. A part of you wishes you can rip his dick clean off with your teeth, but you know that won’t bode well.

Just smile and bear it, you tell yourself like a mantra. Just smile and bear it…

“Oh my God,” Gojo gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly. “How does your mouth feel tight like your pussy?”

Geto hums, and you feel him guide you to bob your head. “Someone’s enjoying themselves. What do we say, Satoru?”

“Fuck, Suguru. Thank you,” he groans, his eyes fluttering a bit. “Th-thank you. It feels so good.”

Geto grins at his lover, ignoring the jealousy twisting in his gut.

“Use your tongue, little dove,” Geto tells you while peering down, and you fearfully meet his eyes, as they darken with something like lust and envy. “Breathe through your nose.”

You don’t know how, but you try. Each time you’re guided down his cock you lap your tongue along his sensitive skin and Gojo seems to like that, groaning and moaning. Geto seems pleased with your efforts, but it’s not always easy to tell.

“Suguru…” he moans, his eyes half mast and his face flushed. “Can I fuck her mouth?”

Your eyes widen at that, no way are you ready for it, and catching onto your reluctance, Geto shakes his head.

“We have to ease her into this,” he reminds him sternly, speaking as if he doesn’t fuck you in wild positions when Gojo’s not around. “Almost there, Satoru?”

He whines in affirmation, his lower lip quivering a bit. Geto chuckles at the sight.

“Good,” he says, as he kneels to your level. “Finish him off, little dove. Remember to breathe through your nose. Help him come. You’re doing so good.”

“Please, I wanna come so bad,” he begs, and Geto coos at him. He helps you pick up the pace, but one of his hands moves to fiddle with his balls, squeezing and teasing them.

“Need more,” he whines, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His dick twitches in your mouth and you know what that means. The squelching of your mouth with each guided bob of your head is fucking disgusting. Gojo’s a chorus of wimpy pathetic little moans until finally, you feel his arousal spill onto your tongue. Quite a heavy load, and you’re not surprised at your next command.

“Swallow,” Geto whispers darkly into your hair and you manage, grimacing as you do. You don’t enjoy the taste. Zingy. Salty. Awful.

Gojo’s dick slips out from your mouth, leaking and limp and spent. Geto peppers approving kisses all over your face, helping you to your feet.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pulling you close. “Thank you for letting Satoru do that. I know that was your first time.”

Gojo’s eyes are still half-mast and a little hazy. His face is so red, sweat glistening on his forehead.

“It felt so good, Princess,” he praises, breathless. “You’ll get better with more practice, as with anything.”

Your jaw throbs, completely sore and you didn’t even get him fucking your throat like he wanted to. You can only imagine how much worse it’s going to get.

Your hand reaches up to massage your jaw, and Geto frowns, shooting a glare at Gojo.

“We should have held off,” he scolds, and Gojo’s eyes flash with worry. “You ought to be pleased she was willing to do that.”

“I-I’m sorry?” Gojo replies, casting a judgy look to Geto. “What’s got you all riled up?”

Geto studies Gojo for a moment before sighing.

“Nothing.” Geto returns his attention to you. “You did well, my dear.”

He moves in to kiss you, and the kiss feels soft, gentle. Like…

Like he’s worried about you?

This side of him catches you off-guard. When he pulls away, he cups your cheeks, gazing down at you with those violet eyes shining with something akin to affection.

How odd.

Gojo clears his throat, and Geto flits his gaze to him.

“Aren’t you forgetting something else, Suguru?” he asks, as his eyes land on you. Geto keeps a protective hold on your waist.

“I’m aware,” Geto sighs, and casting an apologetic (apologetic?!) look to you, he hands you to Gojo. “Play nice, Satoru. You can fuck her today, but I’m watching.”

“Duh,” Gojo scoffs with a roll of his eyes as he pulls you flush against him, and you gasp as eager hands yank off your robe. “I’ve been thinking about your pussy for ages.”

He hoists you up and carries you to the couch. At the very least they’re not chaining you, but it’s not like you have anywhere to run, anyway. Geto approaches the both of you, seating himself on the edge of the couch as Gojo pulls off your panties, tucking them into his pocket.

“Just another to add to my growing collection,” he purrs, and you don’t know how to react, your gut twisting in disgust. He runs his tongue between his lips as his head dips, his nose barely grazing the sensitive skin of your core.

“Fuck, what an adorable pussy,” he praises, licking a line between your folds, eliciting a whine out of you as you lean into Geto.

Geto silences your sounds with a kiss, shoving his tongue past your teeth and twirling his against yours. All the while Gojo’s digging his tongue into your pussy, making all kinds of lewd noises that makes you want to throw up in your mouth a little. Compared to Geto, he’s sloppier, less coordinated, but he’s softer in some ways. Each swipe of his tongue feels like little kitten licks while Geto prefers to absolutely devour every inch of you. Gojo seems to like to savor you, to tease you.

The foreplay feels more like torture.

Well, everything about this is torture, but you almost much rather they take what they want from you without much preamble. That feels far more merciful.

But these men aren’t known to be merciful.

Geto draws his tongue around your lips before pulling away, his eyes downcast.

“Watch him, little dove,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “He looks so happy between your legs.”

“This would the best way to go,” Gojo growls in agreement, plunging his tongue into your hole, making your legs twitch and jerk. His hands rest on your thighs to keep you in place. “Let’s get you nice and wet enough to take my cock, baby. I know Suguru’s already fucked you plenty, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to make sure you’re well taken care of, so just relax while I enjoy this perfect pussy.”

What a fucking shit show.

“Relax, my love,” Geto reassures you with a sultry purr. “He’s great with his mouth. Trust me.”

“Awww, look at you, fueling me while I feast on this pussy you get to fuck whenever you want,” Gojo remarks, twisting his tongue up your folds, making you keen. “God, you’re so fucking selfish, you know that? Getting to have something as perfect as this forever.”

“Bet you can still taste me in there,” Geto chuckles, and you wince.

Disgusting that they use you like this, to get each other off.

“I actually do kinda,” Gojo affirms, laving his tongue between your outer lips. “but you’re not overpowering her amazing taste. She tastes so fucking sweet; do you have any idea how lucky you are to get to have this whenever you fucking want?”

Gojo’s tongue lapping at your slick makes your body tremble. Even if he is sloppy, it feels so fucking good—

“—S-Satoru…!” you cry out, your orgasm splattering a bit onto his face, and when you peer up at him his face is glistening in not just sweat but your arousal, too.

He licks his lips, smirking, content with his work.

But far from satisfied.

“Good girl,” Gojo praises with a purr as he fiddles around his pockets for a condom. Ah. Geto’s very strict on the ‘no breeding’ bit, isn’t he? You really are the exception here. Just for kicks. Just for laughs.

Just a new pretty pet.

After he’s wrapped himself up, the tip of his cock brushes against your folds before catching at your hole. He doesn’t waste another second, pushing himself inside and groaning out through clenched teeth.

“Oh fuuuuuck yes,” he says, as his cock fills you to the brim. “Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Suguru’s been hogging you waaaay too much. But now it’s my turn.”

He bucks his hips, and you thrash in place, his size is comparable to Geto’s but at least he’s not as girthy. One hand grips the top of the couch while the other reaches for Geto, yanking him in for a heated kiss as he spears his cock into you with a deadly precision. So unlike how sloppy he is with his tongue.

“Satoru,” Geto mumbles against his lips before nipping them, hard enough to leave a mark on his lower lip. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Suguru,” he pants as he picks up a harder rhythm. “Fuck, thank you, baby. So good. She feels so good.”

Gojo doesn’t last long compared to Geto, his whole body shaking as he comes, and he pulls out, tossing the used condom into the trash before slipping on another one.

Of fucking course it isn’t over.

“Sorry, Princess,” he doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest. “Suguru here promised me a few more rounds.”

A few?!

“After all,” he goes on, pushing his dick back in. “I’m not going to be back for a while. Gotta make it count, right? You understand, don’t you, Princess?”

“Satoru,” Geto says in a warning tone. “Be nice.”

“I’m nice enough,” he quips, “But I’m still wrecking this pussy.”

You know how this is going to end, so you bury your face into Geto’s lap, while these horrid men continue to take from you.

As Geto excuses himself a bit earlier to tend to some clients, Gojo remains behind with you while drawing a bath. The bathwater steams a bit, casting a fine mist into the air, curling around the edges of the tub like ghostly little wisps. Gojo watches you as he wraps a towel around his midsection.

“Obviously Suguru would be here longer if not for that stuff,” he murmurs, voice low and edged with a hint of resentment for some reason? “It’s just you and me now, Princess.”

He attempts a trace of affection in his gaze, yet there’s always something darker beneath them.

He settles beside you at the edge of the tub, reclinging with a sigh that seems almost a bit wistful. His hands grip the rim, trailing his fingers through the steam like a child would.

“Suguru’s driving me crazy,” he starts, tone laden in bitterness. “It’s always ‘you’ve gotta prioritize something beyond me, Satoru’ as if he’s not the most important man in the world to me.”

Your eyebrows quirk at that, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of all of this. Well, truthfully this situation has gone far past the point of absurdity and you can’t even properly name how you feel anymore. Here, with the weight of his world and its demands spiraling into chaos all around him as if he’s not the solution to it all, Satoru Gojo is choosing to be vulnerable with you.

“That sounds hard really hard, Satoru,” you respond in a little purr for good measure, and even you surprise yourself by the softness of your tone. You tentatively reach out, resting a hand against his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. He lets out a dreamy sigh as he leans into your touch, his posture loosening.

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all,” you offer some kind of comfort, voice barely above a whisper, and then he shifts, seeming uncomfortable at your observation. Like he’s being put on the spot or something.

“I know,” he replies almost too quickly, his gaze flickering elsewhere. His fingers tighten against the tub’s edge. “I just don’t like being the reason for it. I’m really, really trying here. Trying to understand why he did what he did and why he left it all behind, to fix the damage he’s caused.” His voice peters out, dipping into a low murmur, deep in sorrow. “But he won’t return to that part of himself… not with me.”

Your curiosity piques at more of the cryptic shit he’s been spewing, and feigning that innocence, you tilt your head as if merely a curious little girl in this tangled web of chaos. “Is this, um, about, what did you call it? Jujutsu sorcery?”

You find you wear your character well on your shoulders, the feigned naïveté coating your words like honey. Gojo’s gaze sharpens, glinting with something unreadable before they soften, and he actually chuckles at you. Not so much in a mocking way—more amusement at your attempt to understand him and the burdens he carries.

“God, you’re so fucking adorable,” he mumbles, reaching out to brush your cheek. “But yes, it’s just pretty complicated. We don’t exactly see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want what’s best for him. I always have, you know? I love him. He’s not just my lover, he’s my best friend, too.”

“I understand,” you reply, slipping into the bath, sighing as you embrace the warmth of the bath water. You gesture for him to join you, and, without hesitation, he slides into the water, pulling you close until you’re nestled against him.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers against your neck in a reverent tone, his liips brushing your skin with a feather light touch. “Suguru really couldn’t have picked anyone better.” He trails kisses along your jaw, his touch shockingly tender yet there’s still that underlying sense of possession. “You may not be able to tell, since he’s so closed off and guarded all the time. But you really did mellow him out. He really needs that, you know?”

You tilt your head up a little at that, peering up at him with a curiosity that isn’t feigned for once.

“Huh? What makes you say that?” you ask.

He sighs, running a slender finger along your collarbone, trailing down until it circles lazily around one of your nipples, drawing a sharp inhale from your lips.

“He’s always had trouble opening up,” he babbles, as a finger moves to twist one of your nipples beneath the water, making you hiss. “And he still does, don’t get me wrong. I mean, that’s part of the whole reason why there’s this big mess in our world that he kind of caused. He just won’t ask for help! He’s got this issue with being a little too righteous about his morals, whatever they are now. We carry a huge burden and he’s over here like he’s completely over it, and now I have to carry that burden alone which is really kind of pissing me off…”

Oh. He’s venting to you. And spilling more vulnerabilities? Now this is good… he just has to keep going. The bitterness in his tone is raw, indeed. There’s actually a glimpse of the man behind a mask he’s wearing for Geto too, apparently.

And you can use whatever vague shit he keeps spewing later.

“…I just want him to, you know, trust me a little more. I know I can be kinda dense sometimes hut can’t he just tell me how he really feels sometimes? You know?”

“That sounds like it’s lonely,” you reply, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “You just want to show him you do see and hear him, right?”

“Exactly!” Gojo exclaims, a flicker of relief softening his gaze. “I guess I’m just bad at expressing my feelings too…and we’re both too old to be dropping hints.”

You hum thoughtfully, resting your hand on his cheek and he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. “So…what are you going to do?”

Another soft sigh leaves his lips.

“I don’t know,” he admits, holding you closer, the water sloshing a bit as he moves. “I just want him to talk to me. Actually talk to me. Things don’t feel the same anymore. I mean, they haven’t for a long time and…sorry, I guess I’m spewing all of this shit and you have virtually no context, right?”

You manage a little smile as a subtle sign of reassurance. “That’s okay. I guess you have no one to talk to about this, right?”

“Yeah, especially since I go to Suguru for everything,” he retorts, resting his forehead against yours, grinning a bit. “And it won’t be wise to go to Suguru about Suguru.”

A giggle escapes your lips, and his face lights up at the sound, his eyes softening even more.

“You’ve got a beautiful laugh,” he comments, his gaze twinkling with childlike wonder. “Let us hear it some more.”

If only this situation is worth being light and happy about.

You can’t believe it slips out, but…

“I would,” you say, your voice barely audible. “If I was happy here.”

“Is Suguru not taking care of you?” he accuses, frowning in disapproval. “I can have a nice, friendly chat with him you know.”

“He’s not nice like you,” you go on, the irony of your words absolutely laughable. Gojo, nice? The man is no better than Suguru in the slightest, but you suppose there is some softness in him somewhere. “He’s…scary. Really scary. And a lot.”

“He can be,” he agrees, kissing your cheek. “But he just cares a lot, you know? He cares a lot more than I ever did about a whole lot of stuff. He’s passionate. Just give him some time to show you that. He also just really needs someone to care for him too. Not just me.”

“Is that why…he chose me?” you ask, your voice soft, almost like there’s a hint of wistful longing that you don’t fully understand yourself. You feel nothing toward either of them. They have taken you away from everything and they don’t care.

“Yeah,” he says, “You’re nice. To have around, I mean. You’re kind. Attentive. He needs someone more like that. Someone who can steady him, in ways I never could before.”

“And you don’t think you’re like that?” The question leaves your lips before you can stop it, and his laughter rings through the air like wind chimes, but the sound is dark, hollow, more like a warning.

Gojo chuckles. You don’t like how it sounds. Off, like the rest of him. Off, like this entire situation because you definitely don’t belong here. You feel like you’re wedged into a world where you have no place, no room, but they bring you here because they want you to be here for their own amusement. It makes you so angry.

“Far from it,” he tells you as he keeps fondling your breasts, using them like they're stress balls while he babbles on and on and on. You wince but you don’t stop him. You know better than to try. “I’m a monster. More of a monster than he is.”

You absolutely agree with him, but likely not for the reasons he thinks.

For a myriad of reasons you don’t care to dig into, Geto has been showering you with more affection.

It begins, as these progressions often do, with the smaller gestures. Sometimes it’s just an umbrella held just a moment longer while he strolls with you through a rainy day. Or his voice lingers just a tad longer at the end of a seemingly ordinary question, as if he cares for your opinion on trivial matters. You have come to find that he now considers your presence first, insists on it with the twins backing him up. During outings with the little family, on one occasion, he buys you a Chanel jacket, its leather soft as butter against your skin, custom made to suit only you. A lot of these gestures feel almost comical, just another way to lull you into a sense of security in a role you never wanted to play.

Yet, while you don’t think much of it, he still continues, trying and trying to continue to peel back those layers of resistance but you just keep slapping them back on. You refuse to give into him. And yet… he keeps going. He doesn’t stop.

Whenever you crave an escape from the temple, he knows just where to take you and how to indulge your tastes without truly granting you the freedom you sorely craved. Whenever you yearn for a sense of newness or novelty, be it in a new café or bakery or in a public park, he whisks you there like a knight in shining armor without hesitation, as if he truly bends to your wishes.

It all feels like a mockery. A joke.

He gets more and more spontaneous. More and more romantic. Sometimes dinners are just between you and him while the twins are dining in another room with some of their servants. Those dinners complete with soft lighting from candles and an extravagant bouquet of roses he bought for you during one of your recent outings. You don’t realize they’re ‘forever’ roses, ‘everlong’ roses, and you know what that symbolizes in romance, but you’re not going to entertain those thoughts. That isn’t possible between the two of you, and you have a feeling he definitely knows it.

You understand his motives all too well, so well, that you refuse to yield to it. Every attempt at bending to your will is just another way to charm you into compliance, into obedience.

Sure, he wants you to be more obedient, more submissive, but nothing beyond that, right? Surely he can’t possibly expect you to fall for anything he does. Everything he does is always laced with a darker intention.

Still, Geto’s efforts do not falter. During moments where you insist you cannot follow through on his desires, he simply listens and relents rather than pushing you to comply. Even his restraint feels like a mockery.

Sometimes, in the slower moments, Geto likes to find other ways to appeal to you. Whatever that means to him. Whatever he thinks is ‘flattering’ to you. As long as it means he doesn’t have to touch you in intimate areas, then you’re not going to complain. You’re given some time to actually breathe.

You just hope this lasts. Even if you know he expects you to return his grand gestures of kindness, you won’t, because that’s just not who you are.

Tonight, as per tradition now, he draws you a bath, his hands steady as he pours oils into the water, cooing praises and sweet nothings to you, as if to comfort you.

As he sponges your skin, you hold yourself still, all too knowing of the true intentions hiding just beneath these seemingly kind, thoughtful gestures. You know the last thing he wishes to be is tender, yet tonight, this is the closest he has ever come to it, dangerously so. You almost find yourself being yanked into the illusion if only for a nanosecond. You have remembered, reminded yourself not to fall for any of these tricks, any of his deception.

Once you emerge from the bath, he treats you to yet another bountiful feast as per his tradition now, presenting you with an array of different cuisines that make your mouth water. He has been hospitable. Kind, like you have said, even more so since Gojo has been absent for the time being. He’s standing behind you as you scarf down some of the freshly seasoned veggies and tear off a leg from one of the rotisserie chickens to enjoy all to yourself.

Why not take advantage of this? After all, these moments aren’t too bad.

A slender finger brushes under your chin and lifts your head up to meet his violet gaze. Your heart drops to your stomach. What is that look in his eyes? Surely it can’t be…

“I might be moving too fast…” he starts. No fucking kidding! As if the forcing you into this weird shit isn’t already moving too fast?! Is he fucking SERIOUS right now? “But I’ve had time to sit with my feelings for a while, and I need to address something to you.”

You dare not to tear your gaze away from his, because you know that he would see that as an offense—something you can’t afford now or ever here. But he can’t be serious. This can’t be real. He can’t truly expect you to believe anything he ever says is true.

“I don’t expect you to return my feelings, but it’s true: I’ve come to feel some kind of affection for you. Perhaps the closest thing I can come to affection for someone I usually deem lesser than someone like me,” Geto starts in a low voice, there’s almost an edge to it as he speaks, twirling a strand of your hair as his gaze drifts elsewhere, lost in a daydream of sorts. He can’t be serious. He really, really can’t be serious—right? “I might even go as far as to say that you are the closest thing to a mother the girls will have, and I must thank you for being so cooperative and willing to bond with them. They do truly adore you. They’re right, after all. We do make an excellent pair.”

You have no idea whether you should laugh or cry; this is absolutely out of left field for you. This must be another one of his tricks. It must be!

You have come to that conclusion a long, long, loooong time ago, but he keeps filling in all the blanks for you. He’s absolutely bonkers. Insane. Must be thrown into an asylum if they can hold sorcerers. They must have something akin to Arkham Asylum in their world, right? If sorcerers are as powerful as they claim to be?

And cooperative? Oh god, of course you have to be cooperative! Do you have a choice? You either cooperate or you turn up dead somewhere in a ditch, and at this point, the latter sounds like the more merciful option, don’t you think?

“I…” you gulp. How do you react to this? How can you react to this? If you have a stronger backbone--which the longer you stay here, the more you realize you definitely aren’t as strong-willed as you initially believed—you would have told him what for, you would have spat in his face, you would have kicked, screamed, bitten, punched, anything else other than…

“I’m…I’m so glad you think so,” you opt to say in spite of your insides telling you to protest! To fight! To give him a taste of what it means to have everything taken away from you and hurled back out! Why are you just accepting it? Have you given up? No, you haven’t, you just don’t know what else to do right now. “I’m so glad I make you happy, darling.”

“You make me the happiest,” Geto drawls as he tugs on that stray strand of your hair a bit before his finger ghosts over your cheekbone. Your breath catches, and it’s never for a good reason. You know what to expect from here. You can’t remember the last time you had any true agency. “The happiest I’ve ever felt in years, little dove. I don’t think you understand how much you’ve come to matter to me.”

Why does your heart skip a beat from that? Why does it, when you know all he says are pretty lies? He knows how to make anyone feel on top of the world, a sweet talker; he has to be, with a title like his and the fact that he’s a cult leader should give off enough of those warning sirens and yet you still find yourself drawn to his false promises. Why? Why’s that? Is it because in spite of everything, you’re still a woman who desires connection and to be desired like anyone else?

Even if it’s from someone like Geto?

“It’s like I’ve just told you, I don’t expect you to return my affections. That’s ultimately not important,” he adds, “What is important is that you’re here now. And maybe you’ll come to feel something for me in time. I only hope you grow to like Satoru too.”

You wince at the mention of his name.

“Speaking of Satoru…” You know you should keep this to yourself, yet the question leaves your lips, completely uncontrolled. “He’s been feeling like you’ve been shutting him out. Why’s that?”

A shadow crosses Geto’s face and his expression hardens before softening a bit. His gaze drifts away as though your question has struck too close to the truth, like it truly just struck a chord with him.

You don’t like this at all. Have you crossed a line?

“What goes on between Satoru and me,” he murmurs, “is none of your concern, little dove.”

“Please, Suguru, darling,” you plea, gathering some courage, but trying to keep your voice soft, meek. “I just want to understand. Maybe I can—!”

His gaze snaps back to you, his eyes narrowing into slits as his lips twitch into a cold smile.

You freeze.

“No,” he growls, his voice low, dangerous. “Once you’re finished here, meet me in the bedroom.”

You make your way to the bedroom in silence once you finish dinner, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet. Chills dance down your spine as your hand finds the doorknob. Twisting it, you push the door open just enough to slip inside, shutting the door behind you.

There he is, lying in wait as he’s settled himself on the foot of the bed.

“Disrobe,” is all he tells you, at first. Hesitant hands still comply, and you stand before him fully exposed as he desires.

“Come to me. Kneel,” he continues, his eyes not leaving yours.

You obey, not daring to meet his eyes as they remain fixed on you while you sink down to your knees.

“Look up at me, Mamma,” he instructs, his tone soft but laden with an edge of darkness. With a bit of effort, you dare to raise your head, timid eyes meeting his piercing violet.

He sighs, “Why are you questioning about things that shouldn’t matter to you?”

“I…” you stammer, feeling your mouth dry and your throat tighten. “I just want to h-help.”

The laugh that escapes his lips is bitter, mocking, condescending like he always is.

“Do you?” he growls, tone sharp. You jump from shock. “I told you numerous times what happens between Satoru and me, stays between Satoru and me.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he rises from his seat on the bed, and gestures for you to take his place. You sink onto the bed, fearing the worst. You feel the dread twist in your heart.

“Lay on your back,” he says, and you don’t hesitate, sinking into the mattress immediately. You don’t protest when he pulls your panties off, flinging it aside. He pries your legs apart, hooking them to either corner of the bed with a tight rope. He does the same to your wrists to the headboard.

“Suguru, please, I…please, I didn’t mean any harm by what I asked, I just…”

“Be quiet,” he growls as he draws closer to your face, and as you peer up at him, your heart drops at the sight. You haven’t seen his face like that since the day he and Gojo took you.

He circles the bed until he’s looming over you. He seems beyond displeased and it’s terrifying you more than it should. Still, even after something like this, you plan to hold your ground. You aren’t going to let him discourage you.

“You shouldn’t have upset me like that, Mamma. Prying into business that isn’t yours. Taking advantage of Satoru’s vulnerability. That takes a lot out of him, you know. He prides himself on being the strongest person he knows,” he scoffs at that notion while tightening the knots to where your ankles and wrists have been secured onto the bed. “And that is something about him you can’t take lightly. I’m unhappy with you right now, and we can’t have that. I have to punish you.”

“Please…darling, I’m so sorry, I just…I just wanted to understand his side to things, and he opened up to me willingly and…” you beg, babbling on and on, attempting to struggle but when he glares at you, you cease immediately. What a sight. He’s so upset.

He shuffles through the side table drawer and finds a vibrator wand, and you feel dread coil in the pit of your stomach. You know what he’s going to do and it’s not going to be good, it’s not going to feel good at all.

“I told you it was nothing of your concern, Mamma,” he yells, making you cower, as he switches the vibrator wand on. Your legs begin to tremble before the device even reaches between your legs.

“Suguru…” you murmur, your eyes giving him a pleading look.

“Shush,” he snaps, resting the wand on your pussy, the high vibrations making you thrash about in your confines.

OhmyfuckingGod I can’t—

“Please! I can’t!” you gasp, the whirring of the vibrator in combination of the sloshing of your juices drive you absolutely mad. Yes, you have done this before on yourself but not like this. You understand your own limits. Geto doesn’t care about your limits. He cares about setting an example.

He coaxes one out of you in mere seconds, something you’re surprised is possible, but he doesn’t remove the vibrator from your pussy, instead angling it against your clit as a dangerous, nihilistic grin spreads across his face.

“I’ve been far too lenient with you,” he tsks, “I should have reminded you of why you’re here. You’re here for me. Not just for the girls. For me. That’s why Satoru’s okay with this. He shouldn’t be the one benefitting from your companionship.”

“I’m sorry,” the apology spills from your mouth like word vomit. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I just…”

“Shush,” he snarls again, his tone sharper than even you’re used to as he massages the vibrator along your pussy folds, licking his lips as he observes how your slick builds up, sticky and gooey between his fingers when he dips them into your pussy. You thrash about in your confines and his frown deepens, his forehead wrinkling. “I’m not interested in your apologies.”

No fucking kidding.

He pushes the vibrator against your clit, and you keen, your next orgasm washing through you sharper and wetter than the first. It doesn’t stop at the second one. He doesn’t stop circling your clit, rubbing between your folds, the lewd squelching getting wetter and wetter with each pass of the vibrator.

He coaxes another. And another. You know better than to keep count.

“Suguru, please, it’s too much!” you plea again, trying to find a way to back away but you can’t, not with how tight those knots around your ankles are. You’re completely defenseless, just like he wants, and you hate it, you hate that you make him angry, you hate that you can’t fight back the way you wish you can. You hate being powerless, anyone does, but like this? In such a humiliating way? This isn’t fair. This just isn’t fucking fair and you’ve done nothing to deserve this except be adjacent to the wrong people and you can’t change this.

Finally, it all stops.

The sheets beneath you are soaked in your arousal, and Geto grins in amusement.

“You didn’t put up that much of a fight, Mamma. If you swear not to meddle into business that isn’t yours, we can stop for the rest of the evening. We were doing so well and I’d hate to spoil the mood with something like this.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you cough, your body still shaking, still oversensitive. “I-I won’t do it again. I’m s-so sorry.”

“Good, Mamma,” he says after a period of consideration. “I believe you.”

You almost sigh in relief. But then you hear the vibrator click back on again.

“But I have to just ensure that this doesn’t happen again.”

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Yes or No?"

take a breath and think about a question of any type; then choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read your answer.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4 5 6

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pile 1

answer: yes even if it's not perfect, it doesn't mean it's necessarily bad: give it a try (trust your intuition). soon a news or someone may come to you, keep working on your happiness and definition of it. act for your own wellbeing first. keep planning. remember you always have a choice too, do not get trapped by yourself/your mind.

song: (everything I do) I do it for you | brian adams

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pile 2

answer: maybe you're not considering an aspect of this situation and it's probably what is keeping you stuck somewhere, not allowing you to see how related this is with another side of your story. change perspective, let go of self tormenting, try focusing on this other part to change your result and get rid of that block once and for all.

song: the end | jplnd

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pile 3

answer: no it's not the right time now. try to not stress over it too much and just focus on what you can actually control. balance your emotions and do not let them guide you. trust in fate, everything will get clearer at the right time. also, not all the offers and suggestions you get are good for you, pay attention. and take good care of you and how you cope with events.

song: die for you | the weeknd

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pile 4

answer: maybe keep healing yourself as your past is probably blocking you or wounding you still. nurture your wounds as they've never been and leave the past where it belongs. you're changing even if you cannot see it, you're being more you. keep going and don't let those little parts stop this amazing transformation happening inside of you. be hopeful and determined. love yourself for having put up with so much like you did.

song: yellow | coldplay

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pile 5

answer: yes let go, it's okay to enjoy and have fun. you don't have to only focus on the serious side. even if it's only one little happy thing, give it the right attention: do not let the other obligations of the day darken it. go with ease, especially on yourself, and remember that punishing yourself for being wrong or a mistake, it's not worth it. you already feel bad for it, no need to add further pain to the situation. it won't solve it. be nice and compassionate with you: you don't need yourself to be anything else than a friend.

song: amygdala | agust d

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pile 6

answer: yes take a breath and stay balanced. i think a breakthrough may occur in your life and it will change things quite abundantly. you may be attracting love and success in your career/school too. take time to look inside and check what are your wishes/desires about. stop fighting with yourself and start working together with yourself. someone may guide you through (or you can ask for help to more knowledgeable people), do not stress too much.

song: true love waits | radiohead

[lenacosse]

Hockey player!Sirius x Ice skater!Reader that are rivals smut.

pairing: sirius black x fem reader

cw: strong language, smut, choking degradation

word count: 3,041

‘i could tell that you were bad news

but i kept messing with you, messing with you

and now you’re messing with me, messing with me’

════════════════

You step onto the ice, the cool air wrapping your body in a familiar hug. You were particularly excited today for practice because you were doing it alone, you loved your coach she was great but there was something so therapeutic about being the only one. You do your usual warm up, a few laps and simple tricks. At the minute you were training up for a major competition that would dictate your future in skating, however knowing this it didn’t make you worried because you knew how good you were. You’d been doing this your entire life which has maxed out your skills, anyone would be stupid to not acknowledge your talent.

After your fifth lap your body was heating up and your blood was pumping faster- desperate to get started. You skate over to the speakers and start your routine, this routine was the most intricate you had ever been set but you were destined to perfect it, and so far it was going good. As you were landing your butterfly spin the music cut off, you turned around to hear a wolf whistle. Your face dropped as you saw who it was.

“Black. What are you doing?! Turn the music back on I’m rehearsing.”

“We’ve came to practice. Get off the ice.”

You skate over to him, he’s standing there with a smug look on his face. He’s decked head to toe in is hockey gear and holding his sticks, beside him is his friend James. You weren’t sure which one of them you hated more.

“I don’t care.” You cross your arms, he rolls his eyes at you. “Your team has practice in an hour. The rink is reserved for figure skating.”

“What do you need the rink for? Dancing. You skaters are fucking ridiculous.” Sirius scoffs.

“Oh yeah you’re right! I’ve no reason to be here, you said it yourself, skating isn’t a sport.”

“It isn’t.” James adds, you feel the anger rising in you.

“Shut the fuck up Potter! I’m not leaving the rink. You both have scheduled practice in an hour, just fucking wait til then.”

You ignore the protest that Sirius is putting up and skate back to the speaker, resuming your rehearsal. You try to ignore the taunts the two boys are sending your way, they tormented you to move as they set up their nets, you pushed the net half way across the rink which pissed Sirius off.

“If you move that one more time I swear to god.” He fumed.

“I told you already Black I need the space! I have a competition in a month.”

“And I have matches. I don’t care about your stupid hobby.”

“Hobby?! Fuck you.” You exclaim and angrily make your way back to your side of the rink. You felt all eyes on you as you performed, you could feel Sirius judging you. You truly hated him beyond explanation, he was horrible to you ever since you met him four years ago.

He constantly denied your talents, sabotaged your space and made you feel inferior to him. Most ice hockey players done that to the figure skaters, they didn’t see the art in it. But you didn’t care, Black’s words bounced off you and you redirected them back at him. You knew he was a rough fuck boy who cared way too much about sport, ice skating was a creative outlet for you, a deep passion that let you express yourself, a talent that you could master. But for Sirius hockey was an anger outlet, he could be rough and mean on the rink. He also saw it as an excuse to disregard school and education, one injury and you knew him and his precious future was fucked. Of course he was in denial about this, like most men are. But anyways, his beautiful face and toned body didn’t distract you from his venomous personality and sleazy mouth.

You were practicing your axel, that is until a a hockey puck files right at you. Hitting you in the chest, the aggression of the blow sends you flying, you land awkwardly on your back with your ankle tucked under your leg. You cry out in pain, you look up to see James with a conflicted expression on his face and Sirius plastered with a smug grin.

“Knew you were a shit skater.” Sirius taunts. You get up in an instant, the anger you felt overpowering the pain of your ankle.

“You fucking bastard! That wasn’t funny Sirius I could have got seriously injured.”

“I didn’t think you would fall fucking hell give me a break.”

“Give you a break?! Fuck you are ridiculous! You can take this fucking puck and shove it up your arsehole you wanker!” You pick up the puck and throw it at him, it only enrages you more as he catches it. You could have quite literally strangled him.

As you storm off he shouts back at you, “guess we lost our ‘best skater’.”

“You know plain fucking right that I’m better than you! You’re a sad excuse for a player.” You yell as you take your skates off.

You walk around the corner out of sight to put your shoes on, you knew this was the final straw with him. You were debating reporting him, but you weren’t petty and you knew he was just childish, so for now you would leave it. You were about to walk away but stopped as you heard James speaking.

“Don’t you think that was too far?” He asks as him and Sirius resume with their practice.

“No? How is it too far?”

“…she could have gotten hurt” James responds.

“She didn’t.” Sirius sighs, “look I don’t know why you care, she’s a bitch who’s always had it out for me so I correspond with that attitude.”

“Still. You shouldn’t have fired that puck at her, if she tells the captain you’re off the team.”

“She won’t.”

You rolled your eyes as you heard that, of course he assumes you’ll be nice and pity him. But he’s right, you won’t because just like him the captain didn’t care for the opinions of the figure skaters. That to you was most likely the reason Sirius was such a dick, you walk away- not caring for the rest of their stupid conversation and get changed in the locker room. Your ankle was swollen but nothing serious happened, that you only could be thankful for. It would be an absolute disaster if your ankle broke before your competition.

════════════════

The next day you arrive again at practice, again alone. You had a later scheduled one on one with your coach but your entire day was free so you decided it was a good idea to get there early. So again, you go onto the ice and start your routine. Out of the corner of your eye you see Sirius putting in his skates, you audibly groan and watch as he skates onto the ice. However he barely acknowledges you. You thought he was going to leave you alone, until after you landed your spin he approaches you.

“Looking wobbly (Y/L/N).”

“Fuck off Black.” You snarl and send him a glare.

“You’re cute when mad.” He smirks.

Your face screws up in disgust as you scoff. “Leave me alone. Go annoy someone else.”

“Ah but no one reacts like you do, theres no fun it in.”

“Oh you get off on bullying? How charming.”

“You’re just as bad,” he winks. You gag at him and move across the rink in an attempt to get away from him.

Surprisingly he takes the hint and leaves you be for awhile, but you could see him staring at you. Watching your every movement, his eyes following you like a predatory animal about to pounce. You felt uneasy under his gaze, you hated to admit but he held power in his eyes. There was something about him underneath all the hatred that fascinated you, but that was only a minor thing. And of course once he started to piss you off again you were reminded of this hatred. This time he chose to mess with your music, he kept turning it off and changing it to another artist.

“Stop. Leave it be.”

“I’ve had enough of watching you gallop around the rink.”

“I’ve got a solution for you genius, leave. Go on, piss off I don’t want you here.” You spoke in a child like tone to mock him.

“You go. You come every day I can’t get a fucking minute alone in here.”

“I come here to rehearse. And too fucking bad, you don’t own the rink I have every right to be here. I pay to use this.”

“Rehearse? Fuck me you are delirious, figure skating is ridiculous.”

“No you know what, I think you’re jealous. You’re threatened because I’m the only one who meets your match. Right? You think undermining me and making fun of me will make me quit so then you’ll be the best.”

“What we do is completely different, so no. I’m not jealous.”

“I know what we do is different. But you’re so shallow that you’re threatened by everyone, you want to be the best contributor to this company but you can’t because you think I’ll beat you every time.” You move closer to him, you eyes locking in on his. He looked mad, you were getting under his skin.

“Im not threatened by anyone. To think that you’re even on the same playing field as me is crazy. You’ll never be as good as anyone that contributes to this company. You’re an awful skater.”

You just smirk, he was trying so hard to hurt you but it wasn’t working. You knew you were good, that you earned. “Nice attempt.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“The feelings mutual.”

You both share intense eye contact. You head was running wild trying to find something to say, but the way he was looking at you was making your brain fog. All you could think of was the way his jaw flexed when he smirked, how his veins became prominent as he balled his fists or how his eyes were laced with pure lust as he looked into you doe ones. You couldn’t believe standing in front of him you felt sexual tension between you both, you broke the eye contact and cleared your throat.

“Fine dickhead. Have the entire rink.” You sneer and walk off the rink. Removing your skates and walking back to the females changing rooms. Before you open the door you feel a hand grip your wrist and pull you back.

You’re met with Sirius’ face, he looked different than usual, his pupils were expanded and his jaw was tight. He pushed you up against the wall and whispered into your ear.

“I want to fuck you until you forget your name like the slut that you are, maybe then you’ll think twice before running your mouth.”

You squeeze your thighs together as he speaks, his voice was rough yet sultry at the same time. You didn’t know what to say, so you just flashed him an innocent expression which made him grunt. He leaned back down to whisper into your ear.

“Strip down and stand in the shower. I’ll be there in a minute.” With that he walked away, you stand there for a second baffled by that encounter, but without thinking you walk in the changing rooms.

First you take off your leg warms and leave them right at the door, then your tights, then your jacket, then your shirt, then your skirt, then your panties and finally your bra. You left him a trail to find you. You step into the shower and pull the curtain, you stand with your front to the wall, your back to the entrance. You turn the water on and step until, working your way through your hair as the water soaks it. You heard the curtain open and your stomach flipped. Before you knew it you were pressed against the wall and Sirius was behind you, his hard cock between your thighs.

He grabbed your hair, pulling your neck back so you were looking up at him. You bit your lip at the sight, his hair was now wet and droplets of water fell from his hair down onto his face. You hated how beautiful he looked. The sight before you was making you drip with arousal, you’d never felt this way before about anyone and the hatred between you both only made this feel even better.

“Look at you, waiting for me. Fuck you’re so pathetic.” He snarled. You just looked at him with you doe eyes, your lashes fluttering.

“I couldn’t help myself.” You smirked. A whimper escaped your lips as he tugged hard on your hair, he let go of your hair and instead wrapped his hand around your throat, applying a little bit of pressure. You couldn’t deny the fact that you liked it.

He ran his other hand down your back, sending deep shivers up your spin. His hand stopped at your ass. You cried out as he smacked it, you didn’t except it but surprisingly you liked it. He ran his finger over your slit, his eyes grew darker as he felt how wet and eager you were.

“Is this turning you on? Am I making you excited?” He whispered a low growl on the end of his words. You nodded in response, suddenly he shoved two fingers inside you, a gasp escaped your lips, he searched for that sweet spot and immediately found it. You eyes rolled back as he pumped his fingers onto it, you gripped the metal shelf as your legs lightly shook from under you. Sirius kept going, getting faster and more aggressive as you got closer to that release. Your muscles tightened around you and he immediately pulled his fingers back.

You whine in response opening your eyes again and looking up at him. “Why’d you stop.”

“Felt like it,” he shrugged. He let go of your throat and grabbed your hips. You felt him rub his tip at your entrance and you moved back further, showing him how much you wanted this. “You’re such a slut. But I love it.”

He thrusted into you, gentler than you had expect. However that didn’t last long, once you had settled he pushed you even further against the wall and pinned your hands together at your back, his other hand gripped the metal shelf. He pounded into you at an insane speed, his thick cock stretching you out in the most divine way. He hit your good spot perfectly which had you rolling your eyes and moaning continuously. Every noise you made and urged him to go faster and harder, you swore your pelvic would inevitably be bruised from this but frankly you didn’t care. It felt too good.

“I- fucking hate you.” You moaned, your words were sloppy and broken.

Sirius chuckled from behind you and leaned to your ears. “I hate you too. But I bet no one has had you moaning like this.” He kissed down your neck, you could swear at one point he bit your neck but everything blurred into one so you couldn’t be sure, but that didn’t matter because everything he was doing was beyond attractive.

You felt the coil in your stomach snap and you released around him, your legs shook as he kept going. You heard his low groans in your ear, it quite literally was the hottest sound you’d ever heard. He kept going until you came again, this time it was intense. You were overridden with euphoria as you saw white, your legs nearly gave way but Sirius put a steady hand under your to hold you in place. He slowly pulled out and let your arms go. You looked back at him.

“What about you?”

“You’re going to get on your knees and finish the job.” He said, he helped you down and you were now in level with his cock.

This had you biting your lip in anticipation. The way the water fell down on him could have turned you on all over again, he put his hands into your hair, guiding your mouth to his cock. He wasn’t small that was for sure, you licked a long slow strip from his base to tip, slowly you wrapped your lips around his tip and started to suck. You moved your head up and down him as you hollowed your cheeks, he tasted heavenly on your tongue. You were enjoying the noises coming out of his mouth. You slowly pulled your head back releasing his cock from your mouth, you wrapped your hand around the bottom and stroked him as your tongue ran over his slit, the practically whined as you done this, you looked up at him. His eyes were closeted and his face contoured with pleasure. You smirked and resumed, taking your time to draw out those beautiful sounds from his mouth. That was until he grew impatient. He grabbed your head and took back the dominance, he fucked your mouth hard. Your eyes were watering and tears were falling out, but you were loving every moment of it. You kept up with his thrusts, sucking him eagerly. You could tell he was close when his movements got sloppy. And as you expected he came in your mouth, hot white liquid shooting down your throat. Slowly you pulled your head back, swallowing his cum. He looked down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“We’re doing that again.”

You nodded in agreement and he helped you up, you made him pass you in your shower products in your bag. He got dressed and turned to leave.

“See you later (Y/L/N). Better not hog the rink tomorrow with your galloping.”

“Cant make any promises dickhead.” You roll your eyes. He just smirked at you and left. You showered and got ready for your next rehearsal, you still couldn’t believe what happened but it was the best sexual experience you’ve had which you would not say no to if he wanted to do it again.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Double Standards: Malfoys vs Potters Edition

It's interesting how people view the Malfoy vs Potter men. The Malfoys are often considered shallow while the Potters are lauded for befriending the "downtrodden".

James Potter befriended Remus Lupin, a disadvantaged werewolf. He and his friends became animagi for Lupin. That's great and all...but then why was Remus so hesitant to go against the status quo and speak out against the marauders - to do his job as prefect?

And James treated Wormtail like trash too.

‘How thick are you, Wormtail?’ said James impatiently. ‘You run round with a werewolf once a month –’

Nice to say that out loud where anyone can hear, Jamie.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’ Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned.

“Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggested it,” Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. “I thought it was the perfect plan… a bluff… Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you… it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.”

You really don't get the vibe that Sirius or James held little Petie in high regard, do you?

It can't be more obvious that Sirus and James were top dogs and Peter and Remus were just add-ons.

As for Harry, where to start with him? He shows little empathy for other people and has a nasty habit of describing people in dehumanizing ways (eg. Aberforth, Salazar Slytherin, Marcus etc). He has probably described Tom Riddle, the guy who murdered his parents, as attractive more times than his own girlfriend Ginny. He latched on to Ron because of his family and honestly, Hermione feels like a pity friend at times. Harry hardly likes being around her without Ron. Harry has another nasty habit of giving his best friends the silent treatment until they come crawling back to him, even when he is in the wrong too (re firebolt for Hermione and Ron believing Harry entered his name in the goblet of fire).

‘Hullo,’ said the boy, ‘Hogwarts too?’ ‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,’ said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. ‘Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.’

Yet, no one seems to give Lucius and Draco any credit. These people are supposed to be snobby, pureblood supremacists. Yet, even though Harry was dressed in decrepit muggle clothes, Draco still engaged him in conversation. Draco had no idea who Harry was, had no clue he was famous at the time, and still made several efforts to talk with him and continue the conversation even when Harry was cold and aloof.

And Severus Snape moved off to the other side of the Hall, away from Lily, to where the Slytherins were cheering him, to where Lucius Malfoy, a prefect badge gleaming upon his chest, patted Snape on the back as he sat down beside him …

Lucius knows 'Snape' is not a pureblood name. He could see Snape's clothes were probably old hand-me-downs. He knows Snape is way below his class. Yet, he still welcomes Snape warmly to Slytherin. What reason would he have to fake pleasantries with a poor half-blood? I doubt Slughorn or the other bigoted purebloods would care if Lucius left his seat in disgust at Snape's presence. Even as adults, it is indicated in the narrative multiple times that Lucius holds Snape in high esteem. Draco held Snape in high esteem too despite being a halfblood.

The same Snape that James Potter tormented for no good reason - because Snape existed. Instead of targetting the purebloods like Avery and Mulciber, James and his delinquent loser gang went after Snape, the poor half-blood. Harry literally did nothing as Snape lay dying in the same shack that Lupin almost killed him in two decades prior.

Harry describes Pansy as being pug-faced...yet Draco still dated her. Even though Crabbe turned on him, Draco still grieved for him afterwards. Compared to Harry who only dates the prettiest girls and body shames other girls if they don't meet his standard and only cares about people who do things for him, like him and are loyal to him. It's only when the people he dislikes die for him that he changes his tune and suddenly they become great people.

How can people say the Potters are less shallow than the Malfoys??Draco and Lucius will always be high-class elitists who believe in sticking with their 'own kind' but give credit where credit is due.

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Companion piece to Idée Fixe.

(A journal entry that will never see the light of day, for it is meant to rot in darkness. Even the amoral owner is bound to agree with this).

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Chrollo is creepy hooooly shit (he needs a hobby), and religious imagery. Word count: 1k.

I have become hopelessly smitten with a woman who is, for lack of a better word, strange. 

She tells me she’s “probably agnostic, because that word sounds cooler than atheist”, while often exemplifying the religious doctrine she grew up in. She condemns herself for qualities she’d pardon in others. She’ll get excited over the most mundane things, such as pigeons, or when her rewards add up enough to get her favorite drink for free. I’m allowed to steal a certain amount before she stares at me, not quite comfortable enough to express her dissatisfaction verbally, yet undoubtedly pondering the perfect string of words to avoid offending me. 

The extent of her consideration for others is perplexing. There is no advantage to be gained by placating strangers, though her insistence on the matter would almost convince you otherwise. She never says “you’re welcome”, it’s always “of course”, as if the act of going so far out of her way is expected of her. If not that phrase, she’ll say “it’s no problem”, on the off chance the individual may think they burdened her. 

She’s strange, yes, but we’re alike in many ways, so I wonder what that’d make me. 

I’ve taken on innumerable roles throughout the years. I know how to judge the weight of my every word. My motivation for doing so is self-serving in nature. People, to me, are locks that require the right combination to crack. From what I can tell, she’s come to realize this too. Instead of pursuing this advantage, she shies away from it. Originally, I thought it was nothing more than people-pleasing, but it goes beyond that. She loves humanity, the same humanity I deem worthless. It’d be easier for me to understand if there was an ulterior motive. Alas, that'd be doing her a major injustice.

My initial intrigue in her was nothing more than a passing fancy. I had time to pass, and she just happened to be in the vicinity, reading a book I’m partial to. I thought I’d give her a few minutes of my time and then be on my way. Presently, however, If I believed in fate, I’d go so far as to say our paths were destined to cross. She is every part of myself that has died a slow death. Optimism, empathy, passion… they mix together to form the essence of her being. 

I didn’t intend to give her so much of my time. She became indispensable to me before I realized what was happening. In retrospect, perhaps I knew deep down that this was the type of person I’d been looking for. Someone I’d struggle between wanting to ruin or preserve. I erred toward the former at first. If I didn’t wake her from her naïve reverie, another would inevitably come down the line and do it themselves. The mere concept was unforgivable. 

As time passed, it became clear she wasn’t living in a dreamlike state, but was perfectly aware of her surroundings and the people who inhabit them. This left me at an impasse. How do you destroy someone who has already annihilated and rebuilt themselves? There are ways, yes, yet no longer did the idea appeal to me. I wanted something new from her, though the specifics alluded me. What I did know, however, was that this strange woman would touch many lives for the better. 

This was a constant torment. I’d have to go about my business, knowing full well she’s making others smile, laugh, and otherwise brightening their day elsewhere. My chest would become impossibly tight whenever I fixated on this. She holds qualities people are inevitably drawn to. She is radiance incarnate, so easy to adore. A light like that is visible far and wide.

When I pressed back against her dearly held beliefs, instead of fading, she burned ever brighter.

I know she feels it too — this invisible rope that binds us. She’ll happily talk to me for hours, even when I forgo superficial charm and express slivers of my depravity. She sees it, acknowledges it, and seeks me out all the same. I find myself talking more than I meant to when she’s around. She challenges me, interestingly enough. Her arguments often have holes and aren’t by any means polished, but she cuts to the heart of things. 

She is my personal torment. I want every inch of her for myself. Her unique mind, heart, soul… would it be enough? Could I stop there? Or would I keep going, taking more and more, until we were essentially one flesh? 

It’s by her recommendation I’m writing any of this down. She said “I am in desperate need of intensive therapy” and sent some links to her recommendations. I’m inclined to give in to her requests since she asks for so little, but that might be the one I have to refuse. I cannot recall the last time I met someone this amusing, if ever. The inner workings of her pretty little head are a mystery I long to unravel.

Displeased as I am to admit it, a day will pass when she no longer looks at me the way she does now. My true identity can’t go unknown forever, the revelation is inevitable. Still, I won’t let her go. My grip will only grow tighter. If her ire is my penance for possessing her entirely, then I’ll accept the sentence and chip away at it over time. Emotions are transient. With the right encouragement, I can guide her back to my arms, even if she considers the embrace a scourge. 

When we first met, she said something that has taken permanent residence in my mind. 

“So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

This was always bound to be my benediction and her condemnation. 

From that moment onward, her life was mine to do with as I please. There are many far more worthy of her than I, which is why I’ll never give them the chance. I’ll deprive the world of her vibrancy. It could become engulfed in eternal darkness, and still, I’d happily refuse to give her back. Let them lament, weep, and gnash their teeth.

In my youth, I set out to be the greatest villain. Never have I been more willing to carry out the actions befitting such a lofty title. 

This is the curse of a wicked man’s love, [First] [Last]. Revisit your religion and pray fervently. For only a god could save you from the future I’ve planned for us.