#. — are you thirsty? 💗

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

Yizheng Ke (b. 1988)

柯一正

Shanghai, China

The wish to walk on earth—there beneath the last firs standing in the sunshine, to smell their resin and listen to the water, which is probably roaring, to drink water.

－ Max Frisch, Homo Faber /瑞士建築師、劇作家和小說家，二戰後德語文學代表人物。其作品著重關注個人認同、道德、責任與政見等話題，富於反諷。

[jessythebunny]

So my head is empty and i don't have any ideas at the moment i'm just thirsty and drawing some choatic thirst🥵

Looks like James got some sweaty abs, there's no NSFW here this just a test of drawing abs i'm sorry ╮(╯▽╰)╭

[bleach-your-panties]

Hi Rosie! How are you? I’ve been wanting to answer this all day once I saw the questions for today but I was at work.

QOTD: What attracted you to your favs? Their looks, personality, struggle, determination? Or something else?

The stereotypical tall dark and handsome are my types. Personality wise I love the mysterious boys. I’m also a sucker for bad boys. I also tend to look at my favs hair. Long hair like Suguru is so hot.

Oops Satoru and Toshiro are glaring at me.

But honestly I go by looks and personality. Looks wise I love my favs eyes and hair *cough* Toshiro and Satoru *cough* I’m a sucker for blue eyes. And of course I’m a sucker for Satoru’s undercut and Toshiro’s hair.

TOTD: Is your fav rough in bed or softer? Do they like to pound you into the mattress or do they hold your hands and gaze into your eyes during lovemaking?

Hmm for my guys I have to say it depends on their mood. They both are doms, but they can be soft when they want to be. However when they have a bad day either due to the higher ups, in Satoru’s case, or some issue going on in the Soul Society, Toshiro’s case, they tend to be rougher. They honestly want to fuck all the stress away but they do make sure to take care of me after.

Satoru could be sweet when he wants to be. But he could also be rough and dominant which I don’t mind. He tends to be more in control and always wants me looking at him.

Toshiro on the other hand loves to be soft yet dominant. He loves to be holding my hand and staring into my eyes when he finishes.

What about you?

Heyyy, that's ok, bby!

OOOOO, these are HAWT!

I definitely agree with you on the hair and eyes; long hair on a man is SO sexy and I LOVE blue eyes (Izuru, Armin, Mirio, Chifuyu, Kisaki, etc..),

Toshiro was my fav when I started watching Bleach because of his voice and eyes.

I have an affinity for blondies and redheads myself🤭

For me, usually it's looks + personality that draws me to a character, as well as their backstory, goals, and struggles.

If I can root for a character, that makes me like them even more. Especially characters seen as the underdogs.

I see a lot of myself in my favs, as well:

Izuru - his struggles with depression, self-worth, taking on a lot of responsibility

Armin - high intellect + doubting his leadership abilities

Tamaki - shyness, anxiety, fear of public speaking, low-self esteem/self-confidence

Just to name a few.

As for the bedroom 😏...

My sweetie pie Izuru is def a switch and a soft dom. He is usually soft, but I love when he brings out his rough/dominant side.

I def expect to be tied up later if I was running off at the mouth a little, or if he's had a rough day at work. He provides the most amazing aftercare though, and always makes me tea after he fucks my throat raw 🤭

Tamaki is also a switch, but he's a hard dom and a brat tamer.

I know you're thinking, "not shy, anxious Tamaki who wouldn't hurt a butterfly!" PLEASE✋🏽

This is Pro-Hero Suneater, TAMAKI "LET'S GET FREAKY" AMAJIKI I'm referring to here 🤣🤣

He does not fuck around when he's in dom mode, and yes, he uses the tentacles. Often. At my request.

[lordrandreaming]

https://www.tumblr.com/lordrandreaming/741085836782796800/work-in-progress-of-my-monster-hunter-monster-the?source=share

hhrhrhdhdgrgrgg mOunt me

When the monster mounts you... Tbh I feel the same.

I'm writing an x reader for one yknow? I think this is very ironic that I get an anon that LOVES my monstie-poo AFTER I start writing a fic! :3

I highly encourage thirsting after Shucha Asan. A very adaptble monster.. 10/10 can breed with a human and make a baby. So if your into that, WONDERFUL!

They can breed with anything because their genome is so adaptable.. Maybe I'll post my Biology study on them if you like them so much 💙✨

[thisismeracing]

THE MICK BATHROOM QUICKIE? IN THE FIREPROOFS? GIRL YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN <3 I want that boy to tell me to shush when there are tears down my face as he bangs me against the bathroom door

same!!! *insert “I'm not a slut but who knows” meme*

[yuujispinkhair]

Had this silly little thirsty thing in my head for weeks and I have enough courage to say it skdh

Letting Yuji thighfuck you as his reward

Making Sukuna thighfuck you as his punishment

Idk- I feel like Yuji would love it.. cause he's so sweet and thinks you're cute all over *kicking my feet*

And- now idk how you'd make Kuna submit like that- although, that subby college kuna is on the mind yk hehe

anyway- that is all, ily and I'm loving the Hockey AU so far mwah 💗💕

AAAH RISA I LOVE THIS 🥵🥵 Thank you so much for sharing this with me!! 💗

Yuuji x Reader, Sukuna x Reader. 700 words. 18+. Smut. Thighfucking (Reader is sitting on a kitchen counter with her legs crossed). Praise kink, cum-eating in Yuuji's case. Degradation kink, overstimulation, squirting/piss in Sukuna's case. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

Yuuji is happy about anything you give him. He is so in love with you and your body it drives him crazy to push his leaking cock between your beautiful thighs. He walked into the kitchen, seeing you sitting on the counter in that short skirt, and he was instantly rock-hard. He laughed sheepishly and apologized for his dick, but you smiled at him and put a hand on the large tent in his grey sweatpants.

"It's ok Yuuji. I like how much you want me. Come here, baby."

The moment Yuuji realized what you had in mind, he was already pushing his sweats down eagerly, lips opening in a loud moan. It felt dirty, and that excited him.

Yuuji is always a nasty one. Cute but nasty and very horny. So he is all too happy and grateful that you let him rub his horny cock against your soft skin. It looks so hot how his swollen, wet mushroom head peeks out between your plush thighs, drooling pre-cum all over himself and smearing it between your sexy thighs when he fucks them. Things become more slippery with each horny thrust, and it makes Yuuji moan shamelessly.

You tell him to look at you, and when he does, you pet his hair and coo at him,

"You are so sweet, Yuuji. Such a good boy. I love you so much, baby."

And Yuuji nuts so hard 💗 His large hands dig into your thighs, his moans all high-pitched and cute, while his pretty cock throbs and shoots Yuuji's thick warm cum down your thighs.

You don't even have to tell him afterward that he should lick you clean. That sweet boy is already on his knees, caressing your calves with his large warm hands while he eagerly licks his cum off your thighs while moaning against your skin how much he loves you.

Sukuna (I also imagine fucktoy Sukuna from "Bad Boy - Good Toy" here) grits his teeth to hold back his moans and glares angrily at you while he ruts desperately against you. Angry at himself for being such a needy mess for you, who needs to touch you so bad that he is even ok with this!

He thought you would let him fuck you tonight, but you just grinned at him and laughed mockingly, telling him that bad boys don't deserve your pussy. "Next time, you better behave nicer throughout the day. You are such a brat, Kuna. I really have to put you in your place."

He hates how fucking hard he got when you talked to him like that and when you sat on the kitchen counter and pointed to your legs with that cruel smile on your pretty face.

"If you are so needy, you can put your pretty dick here, baby."

He hates that he didn't even hesitate but pulled his cock out immediately, slapped it against your thigh, and then pushed it between your crossed legs with an angry and horny hiss falling from his lips.

And now Sukuna is standing here in the kitchen with his jeans and boxer briefs pooling around his ankles, fucking your thighs like some dog in heat. Fast and desperate. Groaning anytime his throbbing cock glides through the tight warm gap between your thighs.

He feels his head spin as you milk drop after drop of pre-cum out of his aching cock, while taunting him about how excited he is. But fuck, it feels good, and the way you smile at him makes him feel so strange.

"Aww look at you, Kuna. You are so pathetic. You gonna hump yourself against me until you make a mess all over me? So cute. My little horny slut."

It's too much. Sukuna growls a needy-sounding "Shut up, brat!" even as he feels his muscles contract, unable to hold back the intense orgasm that makes his whole muscular body shake as he cums all over your legs and the kitchen floor like some little excited loser, shooting his milky seed everywhere.

You don't let him go, only press your thighs together tighter and squeeze his orgasming cock, forcing Sukuna to give you every last drop of cum he has in him. He is whining by the end, so over-stimulated that tears gather in his eyes, and he even squirts a little, hearing you laugh when the sticky mix of his warm piss and cum trickle out of his angry, swollen cockhead.

😵😵💗💗

Both of them drive me INSANE!! Yuuji is such a cutie, and I want to praise him all day!! And Kuna is my favorite little brat who brings out my sadistic side. I am so in love with both of them!!

Thank you so much for sending me this sexy idea!! 💗

I hope you enjoyed your little fun time with our boys ;) Who is your fave?

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

And if anyone wants to read more about this subby version of Sukuna, you can find two sexy stories about fucktoy Sukuna here: Bad Boy - Good Toy

[sharlsworld]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ thirsty boy - ʟɴ4 ☆

✿ lando norris x influencer!reader

✿ lando norris is always thirsting for his girlfriend any chance he can get

ᵃᵘᵗʰᵒʳˢ ⁿᵒᵗᵉ ୨୧ i don’t know what this is

🝮

yn

📍miami

liked by pierregasly and 3,935,017 others

yn we in this bitch

francisca.cgomes finna get crunk

⤷ lillymhe eyebrows on fleek

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux da fuq

⤷ yn MY GIRLS 💓💞💖💕💝💗

landonorris early…..not first 😞

⤷ francisca.cgomes HA

⤷ lilymhe HA

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux HA

landonorris your so aesthetic i love you

landonorris your so bhad 🤤🍆🍌🍒🍑😫

⤷ yn woah there buddy slow your roll

⤷ landonorris i thought you liked when i went fast?

⤷ carlossainz55 Mate…why do you always do this?

georgerussell63 Slay queen! You’re serving cunty fierce independent girl boss! 😘💖

⤷ yn i’ve created a monster

landonorris HEY! WHOS IN THE 3RD SLDIE?

⤷ yn my girl alex durrrr

⤷ charles_leclerc I miss my girlfriend

⤷ lovely_leclerc AWHHH HOW CUTE

🝮

landonorris

📍 miami beach, florida

liked by lahjay10_ and 925,055 others

landonorris miami w this absolute bhaddie

yn freaky boy

⤷ landonorris yk it baby 😉 all for u

♥︎ by yn

francisca.cgomes bhaddie indeed 😍

alex_albon will we ever get a post not including y/n? even on race post’s you manage to get her in there

⤷ landonorris never this is actually a y/n fanpage if you haven’t noticed

⤷ mclaren Oh we’ve noticed 😅

landolovesyn mclaren is sick of lando clinging to y/n all day

♥︎ by mclaren

estiebestie there so goals i cannot i am manifesting a relationship like this 😫😫

oscarpiastri I have to deal with this all weekend 😔

hoeforsainzzz he’s so obsessed with her i need that

🝮

who_tf.is_yn

liked by sydney_sweeney and 102 others

who_tf.is_yn erm what the sigma

landonorris first

landonorris don’t act like i didn’t get you all hot and bothered 😘

⤷ who_tf.is_yn cringe ball 🤢

⤷ landonorris that’s not what you were saying last night

⤷ oscarpiastri I know. I hate you both. I will be sending my therapy bill to you two.

lilymhe divorce babe divorce

⤷ landonorris we’re not even married yet?

charles_leclerc That sick bastard

alexandrasaintmleux 🤢🤢🤢 how pervy

georgerussell63 Risky boy 😈

⤷ who_tf.is_yn what the fuck

🝮

yns.no1fan

liked by oscarpiastri and 46 others

yns.no1fan i’m having withdrawal symptoms guys i’m going crazy without y/n

yn girl…it’s been 6 hours

⤷ yns.no1fan that’s 6 hours to long i miss the comfort and warmth of your touch

⤷ yn awhhh that’s kinda sweet 🥹

⤷ yns.no1fan i miss the weight of your ass in my hands too

⤷ yn there it is

alexandrasaintmleux don’t worry me kika and lily are taking great care of her

⤷ yns.no1fan make sure she eats before 12 or she gets hangry 🥹

alex_albon the only time i ever see you guys away from each other is when your racing or doing interviews

carlossainz55 Let me cheer you up 😉

⤷ yn fuh nah stay away from my man

⤷ yns.no1fan 😈😈😏 oh your getting it tn

⤷ carlossainz55 OK! Gonna go bleach my eyes brb

🝮

yn

liked by leahhalton_ and 7,016,825 others

yn in my own world

landonorris first

♥︎ by author

landonorris can i join?

⤷ yn always

maxfewtrell get a rooooommmm

estiebestie why is lando always horny

charles_leclerc 🤢🤢

⤷ landonorris piss off

⤷ yn so british

lilymhe i can’t wait to see you my girl!!! 💗

⤷ yn i’ve been waiting for you 😇

smoothoperator55 i pray for a relationship like lando and y/n’s before i go to sleep

charles_leclerc Where the hell is my picture credit for the beach picture?

⤷ yn up your ass

⤷ charles_leclerc I don’t see it

danielricciardo Guy this is the it relationship I fear

georgerussell63 Cutie patootie goals I need, Carmen take notes

⤷ carmenmmundt 😐

oscarpiastri I’m tired of this grandpa 😖

⤷ landonorris that’s to damn bad

🝮

yns.no1fan

liked by charles_leclerc and 34 others

yns.no1fan mukbang out tonight stay tuned dropping at 9pm 😉😇

pierregasly SICK PLEASE NO

francisca.cgomes don’t do this lando.

alex_albon NO MY POOR EYES

carlossainz55 Yuck! 🤢🤮

danielricciardo Do it no balls 😈

⤷ maxverstappen1 Don’t tempt him idiot he might actually release a sex tape

lilymhe fuh nah fuh nah where is the bleach at

alexandrasaintmleux what have you done to my sweet innocent naïve baby girl

⤷ yns.no1fan there ain’t nothing sweet or innocent about that girl

georgerussell63 What in the bloody hell did I just witness mate

⤷ yns.no1fan greatness that’s what

⤷ georgerussell63 I don’t think that’s it

🝮

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1 and 4,425,981 others

landonorris i can be sweet guys

yn once in a blue moon

⤷ landonorris what can i say, you unleash my inner dawg 😈

⤷ carlossainz55 Please no.

alexandrasaintmleux rarely

carlando there the cutest couple ever

estiebestie everyone shut up lando isn’t being a horny teenager for one

♥︎ by yn, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, and carmenmmundt

charles_leclerc NO PICTURE CREDIT??

⤷ landonorris no your mean to me

oscarpiastri Rare sighting of lando not trying to pull y/n away to the closest room

⤷ lewistearmeup thank you so much for this information oscar

⤷ yn i hate you oscar piastri

⤷ oscarpiastri Forgive me queen

[luvologyy]

Daisuke relationship headcanonsᡣ𐭩.ᐟ

NSFW/SFW SO MDNII TY!

Daisuke x f!reader ᵔᴗᵔ.ᐟ

It can take place on earth or on the tulpar.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated 💗

· · ──꒰ঌ·🌺·໒꒱ ── · ·

SFW HEADCANONS

★ He never stops trying to impress you. he even fails and embarrasses himself. yet it’s okay. You think it’s cute

★ he always craves you, not even just sexually but physically, too. Just your smell, your vibe, your company. Just you.

★ hates seeing you sad, angry, etc. He thinks he mightve done something to make you feel that way. So he does everything in his power to get you out of it.

"Hey baby, I got you a drink from the kitchen!"

"Thank you, I'm not thirsty, though.." He heard the tone on your voice and knew something was wrong, it was blunt but still soft and welcoming.

"Are you okay??" Daisuke asked

You just shrug your shoulders not saying anything.

Daisuke sitting beside you and wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzling against your hair. "It's okay, Mama, I gotchu."

★ such a cuddle bug, like my baby loves being touched and touching you.

★ this boy is soo clingy. He's always following you, holding on to your hand or sleeve.

★ loves hugs, every time you're at the counter or a table, he always walks behind you and hugs you from behind. HE WONT LET GO AFTER THAT.

★ he accidently called you mama/mommy when you guys were cuddling. HE WAS EMBARRASSED.

"Make sure you get your daily tasks done later, though, okay?"

"Okay, Mama.." He grumbled tiredly, his face nuzzling into your neck.

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you." You chuckled, pulling his face away

"NO NOO IM SORRY I CALLED YOU THAT I-" he was a rambling mess, embarrassed you caught him calling you mama.

"No, no! It's okay, sweet boy. I don't mind it, you can call me it whenever."

★ You guys are the sun x moon dynamic fr

★ you'd always let him babble away about his day or whatever he'd talk about, and he noticed how you'd genuinely listen and was interested on what he'd talk about. It made him giddy and happy.

★ always convinces you to do dumb shit with him, and if you’re already naturally a reckless person you’d just add to his fire. But if you're more mature than him, you'd try to talk him out of his reckless behaviors.

★ says “again” or “one more, mama” after kissing you (you always giggle and grant his wish ofc)

★ He'll get competitive with you just for fun. He'll make up races and let you win because he loves seeing you smile

★ whenever yall cuddle HE SNORESS. But doesn't snore super loudly like Swansea

★ He likes it when you brush his hair and style it. BUT HE ALSO HATES IT. He'd complain how you're too rough and how tangled his hair is.

★ Always gives you cheek kisses everytime you guys hug or cuddle.

★ He's REALLY STINGY WITH HIS FOOD, but he'll always share with you.

★ this boy thinks you're an absolute goddess. Every time you wear new outfits and show him, his eyes turn into literal hearts.

★ he gets so giddy when you pepper small kisses all over his face, especially if you wear lipstick and kiss him.

NSFW HEADCANONS!

★ He's such a chatter box when he's in bed, especially when he's about to release or when being edged.

★ He's into praise and a little degration. But nothing too crazy like "bitch". Just being called a slutty boy gets his gears grinding..

★ dudes got a mommy kink. No questions asked.

★ pleaseee sit on his face. He loves it. He'll let you sit on his face for hours.

★ HES A MUNCH. He'll tie his hair up every time he eats it. He genuinely thinks you taste so good. He'll even accidently overstimulate you without realizing it.

★ He's such a whiney boy when he's being edged or overstimulated. Whimpering and crying begging to cum.

"F-ffuckk, mommy, I don't think I can take it .."

"Can i please cum, pleasee mommy I've been a good boy!"

"Your hands feel so soo good mommy.."

★ Daisuke loves cowgirl and missionary, but mostly cowgirl. being able to look you in the eye as you take control. His hands gently holding your hips as you bounce on his cock. Mesmerized by your tits in his face and the sounds leaving your lips.

★ absolutely adores your body. He loves how soft and squishy it is, especially your thighs and tits.

★ He loves doing the finger + tongue combo..

"You taste so good mommy.. so good."

"I can feel you getting closer mommy."

"Please cum for me mommy, please cum for your good slutty boy!"

★ he literslly begs you to cum, his pleasure is your pleasure. So eager to please you.

★ Daisuke is so Eagar and messy. He wants to bury himself in your cunt and never leave. Lapping at your folds and slurping on your slick. Daisuke will stay there until you force him to breathe, showing off his face with your slick dripping down his chin.

★ He doesn't get to fuck you a lot in missionary or just straight up at all, mostly eatting you out or you jerking him off. So when you allowed him to fuck you in missionary he was so giddy and excited.

★ daisuke was a total virgin. Yeah, he might've gotten a hand job in high school, but he had no actual experience. Until he met youuu.

"Fffuckkk, mommy, you're so tight! Mmmhh..."

"Your pussy feels soo gooddd.."

"T-thank you for letting.. me cum mami.."

★ doesn’t really like quickies. He'd rather take his time with you. Having it being nice, romantic, and slow. His way to goo

★ This baby loves to take care of you and being able to spoil you, but he’s gonna be a bit clumsy. Stuttering and second-guessing himself. Also, please remember Daisuke NEEDS aftercare himself. Sex is new to him, especially if he's a virgin. he’s gonna need some reassurance afterward.

★ He's so eager to do anything you say, if you want him to lay down, he'll do it. If you want him to be on his knees for you. HE'LL DO ITT

★ God when you sit on his face and you start to slowly grind on him, his hands having a firm grip on your thighs. you can practically hear him moaning in your pussy, “mmm so good" or "more mommy I want more.." UGH

Sorry guys, this is so rushed, and it SUCKKS.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Sleep nonnie again. Is it okay if I go by 🦊🌲 its easier.

Anyways I think it would be a funny scenario if you suggest to the op boys to keep their hands warm by putting them between your thighs. I know some boys would just get a heart attack if you suggest that and get a cute blush

say whAT NOW?? NONNIE HELLO AND WELCOME BACK!! (dm me so that we can be friends ur fic ideas are so out of pocket i love it); also, gonna add ace cause i see many ace thirsties out there ;)

let me warm you up ft. the monster trio//ace!

luffy:

💗when he agreed to this, he didn't know just what kind of uncharted territory he was entering. he was simply not prepared. you had given him such a soft smile, taking his hands into yours as gingerly, "luff, are you cold?" he had nodded a mindless yes because you were crossing a terribly cold patch of the sea and his hands were freezing. but then held his hand a bit tighter and whispered, "i can warm them up for you. if you like?" he was too drunk on the idea to see the mischievous glint in your eyes and the way you spurred him on with your honey-like voice.

💗so now, he sat in front of you, eyes blown wide and lips trembling as his hands rested between your plush thighs. you had squeezed your thighs shut around his restless hands, claiming that it'll get him warm in little to no time. but god, this was hard (much like something else) and he was trying his best to keep his fingers still and not do anything hasty, like digging it into your soft flesh and relishing in the way your body molded to his touches. or by trailing his hand a bit upwards and seeing the way you react. 💗"luffy??" you called out and captain shook his head as he crawled out of that daze like state, "y-yeah?" "you okay?" you mumbled, voice far too gentle. you fucking minx. "you seem like you're losing your mind." good catch! because he was. luffy abruptly pulled his hands backwards lest he do something that truly made him lose his sanity. he scrambled off of your bed, heading out the door into the chilly deck in long, skitterish steps. "where ya going?" you called after him but he rushed out, yelling after himself, "JUST GONNA WARM UP WITH USSOP INSTEAD BYE" did ussop have better thighs than you? you may never know.

zoro:

💚zoro was very stupid, very. he was not the smartest tool in the shed when it came to love or crushes or dating or cooking food or social cues or emotional intelligence or— i should stop before this turns into zoro slander [i promise i love him]. but now, the bounty hunter sat with his face flushed and hands tucked between your soft, malleable thighs. he was smarter than this, truly. he knew that when you suggested that he looked cold and you can warm him up, he was supposed to say "fuck no, get out." because having a crush on you was embarrassing enough on it's own. but you had given him such a gut-wrenching, pleading look. your eyes saddened and your lips fell into a pout and oh god, what was he, if not the man who would let you ruin him? 💚ever since he was a child, zoro had always known that he would die a noble swordman's death. he would die fighting, brave, courageous, unafraid. now, he was sure he'd die from the way you squirmed and pressed your thighs shut. "quit movin'" he grunted, looking away from you as your stared at him. but you tucked your arms against your chest and the soft swell of your tits fell forward towards him so deliciously. he must have lost focus and let his gaze travel against your body cause you coughed, drawing his attention back to your face, "quit starin'." he pulled his hands back, ears going red and heart faltering. he should really stop before he gave into the temptations and pinned you to the mattress to— his voice pitched up, "i-i'm going back to my room, bye." "zoro?!" you called after the swordsman as he ran out, "BUT THIS IS YOUR ROOM, WHERE ARE YOU GOING??" [spoiler: he went to chopper and crushed herbs to make medicine. he wanted to get rid of some of that tension but he failed. because he put the pressure too hard and the china dish in which he was crushing the leafy herbs broke, and now chopper was hitting him square in his head, talking about how important it was to be precise in medicine and how zoro will never make a good doctor. "stop hitting me— OW" "what KIND OF A DOCTOR ARE YOU?" "IM A SWORDSMAN!" "YEAH CAUSE YOU CANNOT BE A DOCTOR!"]

sanji:

💙breath in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out. breath in, breath out— "sanji?" you asked, a tinge of worry at his almost fainting figure, "are you okay?!" "my love, darling, sugar pie—" the man caught his tongue between his teeth, trying to stop his head from spinning. the floor seem to sway under him, the lights seemed too bright. was he flying or was it the blood rush?? "what did you just ask me?" you look down at the kitchen floor, mumbling with a bashful smile, "if your hands are cold...i can warm them up." his heart quickened as did his fingers. he chopped the bell pepper so hastily that you were sure you saw sparks flying. "and how would you do that?" "you can keep them between my thighs, if you like?" you looked up, "OH MY GOD SANJI YOUR NOSE—" 💙i hate to cut the story short but sanji 100% fainted and you had to catch him before he fell face-forward into the pot with boiling water on the stove. sorry, he gets no bitches :( but you did look after him on the bedside and let him eventually touch your thighs so... idk, a win is a win!!! ["so, is he like dead?" zoro had asked, uninterested, as you hauled the cook's figure outside the kitchen. you were dragging him to his room as the rest of the crew trailed you. they had heard your shriek and came spilling into the kitchen to see what the fuss was about. "did you give him a hug?" nami asked, amused. "hug's too much." ussop snickered, "she probably smiled at him." sanji whipped his head dangerously to glare at them, "i can hear you. and i will be poisoning your food." he looked back at you, "oh don't you worry, im still fainted." he closed his eyes, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. you smiled to yourself, making a note to warm him up later]

ace:

🧡truthfully, how do you ask a man made of literal fire if you can "warm him up"??? you must have not thought you plan through because you had stood in his room a bit tipsy, locked the door behind you and asked a boy [who was always shirtless cause he was so warm] that question. "huh?" ace's eyes widened in pleasant surprise. he stood up to walk towards you, "what is that about? you wanna warm me up?" "NO!" you bit your cheek when you realized the implications of your words, "i was joking, obviously." "awh, i do love when you humor me." he quipped, "it's kinda cute." "shut up." you glared at him but he gave you an earnest smile back, "if you're cold, you could have just told me." he set his finger ablaze, acting suave, "see, i can warm you up." "you wanna set me on fire?" you seethed. "no?!" "why did you light your fingers on fire?!" "YOU ASKED A MAN MADE OF FIRE IF YOU CAN WARM HIM UP? DONT ASK ME QUESTIONS?!" "i'm drunk" you mumbled. after a beat you looked down at the floor, "and... i'm kinda cold." portagas d. ace just smiled, shrugging in mock nonchalance, "we can cuddle, if you like. i've been told i'm a pretty great heater." you laughed, "hah, hotshot." ace gave you a wicked grin, "how drunk are you?" "not nearly enough." just saying, portagas d ace was better than just a "pretty great heater." he was a pretty great fu-

a/n: i love writing stupid things so much. it makes me so happy because i'm a stupid little girl giggling and typing on her laptop when she should be doing work. tagging the ever lovelies: @bokutosbiceps (resident luffy enjoyer) and @help-i-lost-my-sock (resident ace enjoyer). if you wanna be added to the tag list, please let me know (//tell me your preferences and i'd tag you in those fics)!

[midnightfantasiez]

Play With Me | Octoberfest Day 10

➺ Pairing - senior!Hyunjae x f!reader

➺ Drink - Negroni with a hint of amaretto (acquaintance x breeding)

➺ Summary - Lee Hyunjae was known to be the campus heartthrob and is literally the perfect guy to ever exist. Little did you know that he was hiding something behind that lovable smile of his that you have grown to love and admire.

➺ Word Count - 1,366

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), frat parties yayzers, cursing, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, clothed sex, dirty talk, rough sex, petnames (sweetheart, princess), blowjob, cum tasting, hair pulling, Hyunjae is lowkey a little sadist here (don't read if triggering!!)

➺ Author’s note - dedicating this one to the number one mirae @daisyvisions 💗 happiest birthday daisy i'll never forget the day how i went from being one of your biggest fan / reader to mutuals like it's still so bizarre to me and look at us being besties now huhu 🥺 (here's to more chaos & funsies yay!!) ngl yall i struggled a bit with this prompt bcs idk if i executed the scenario well so pls bear with me 😭

➺ Taglist - @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @mamuljji @synthwxve @j4edo @h0mebody-heaven @tinkerbell460 @nyu-topia @jaminthemiddle @kyaroscuro @daisyvisions @momhwa-agenda @snowflakewhispers (join my permanent taglist here!)

➺ OctoberFest Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You were having second-hand thoughts about agreeing to even step out of your apartment for the night.

The semester had just ended, and your roommates convinced you that it would be best to let loose for the night and attend a frat party hosted by the seniors for the night. As if it wasn’t horrible enough that you weren’t too much of a social butterfly, but hanging out with the guys that were one year ahead of you didn’t sound too comfortable for your liking. 

However, your roommates had opinions that contradicted yours—saying that older guys are much better than the ones you have in your classes. They seem to be a lot more mature and are aware of their actions most of the time—often avoiding things that would paint them as immature and get them into trouble. 

Reluctantly, you had no choice but to agree as your roommates literally dragged you out of your room and down the block. Immediately, your eyes landed on the scene before you—a house packed with students drinking to their hearts' content and partying like it was nobody’s business.

Slowly, you had to squirm your way into the actual party to get yourself a drink. After all, you were thirsty, and hanging out by the drink station seemed safer than navigating through the house. Just as you expected, your roommates immediately blended into the crowd and were nowhere to be seen. But you couldn’t blame them—they were pretty active on the campus party scene.

Just as you were browsing through the selection of alcohol to satisfy your thirst, you suddenly felt a warm breath on your neck as you turned around abruptly and ready to give whoever it was a lecture. 

“Fucking hell! Did your mother never teach you how not to be a creep!?”

Immediately, you started to regret screaming at the top of your lungs when you realised who it was that had gotten your attention. It was Lee Hyunjae—one of the campus heartthrobs that everyone swoons over. 

You have always admired his good looks, just like everyone else, but seeing him up close in person immediately gave you butterflies in your stomach—making you think about how this person could be real. 

If it weren’t for one of your roommates who just happened to be part of the student council with Hyunjae, you would’ve never got to know who he was. Sure, you have only spared glances and said a few greetings because you would come to pick up your roommate whenever she had to stay a little longer on campus, but that was pretty much it. 

That was why you were taken aback when Hyunjae said your name for the first time with his sweet voice. “Y/N, right? Never expected to see you here.”

“Well umm, Savannah dragged me here. I didn’t have a choice,” you bluntly replied.

“Definitely can see her doing that,” he chuckled before he started going through the liquors on the table and pouring different liquids into a glass as he handed it to you. “Care for a drink?” 

You hesitated for a bit, but the male reassured you that he had no ill intentions while making it. Slowly, you took in a sip and closed your eyes tightly as the alcohol slowly flowed down your throat. It has been a while since you have had something this strong down your system.

“W-What is this?” 

“A good-old Homely Smoke cocktail, definitely fitting for a girl like you,” he winks. 

As much as that flirtatious wink of his made you feel a little uncomfortable, you had to admit that you were glad that he made you something sweet instead of a bitter one because you were not ready to puke in front of everyone for the night. 

“Damn, is there anything you can’t do? An alcohol connoisseur and part of the student council? A rather deadly combo if you ask me,” you teased before taking another big sip of your drink.

Suddenly, Hyunjae hesitated for a moment before he closed his distance between you both, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “Actually, that’s not all that I’m good at.” 

“Oh yeah? Show me what else you are capable of, then.”

“I’m not sure if you can take it, sweetheart.” 

You were provoked, and you weren’t going down without a fight. You slowly pushed him up so that you were staring right back at him, responding to his challenge with a smirk.

“Try me.” 

Maybe you should’ve been more careful with your words, and provoking the senior himself wasn’t the brightest idea in your books. Because now you find yourself lying on one of the beds in one of the empty bedrooms in the house with your legs placed over Hyunjae’s shoulder as he thrusts his cock within you. 

The senior wasted no time crashing his alcohol-filled lips onto yours, kissing you feverishly as he swiftly moved you to one of the nearest bedrooms from the pantry and threw you straight onto the bed. He wasted no time in lifting your skirt and unbuckled his pants before rubbing his tip against your clit for a few moments before pushing his entire length in. 

It seemed that he wanted to get to the bottom of this real quick, to the point that he didn’t care if he was sweating through the tight black tank top that he was wearing—he needed to fuck you right now. 

“You said you can take me, didn’t you?” He panted as he made that remark against you, enjoying the look that was plastered across your face as you whimpered underneath him.

“H-Hyunjae…I’m sorry…”

“An apology, huh? Maybe I’ll forgive you if you can continue to hold it longer for me,” he growled as he pinned both of your hands above your head before lowering his body slightly to thrust deeper within you.

His cock slowly and roughly reached certain places within you that you never knew existed, eventually hitting your g-spot, making you yelp in agony. 

“Hyunjae! I can’t!” You screamed as you balled your hands into fists, trying your best to break apart from his grip, but to no avail. 

“Come on, princess. I’m just getting started,” he mocks before picking his pace up. “Tell me, how badly do you want me?”

“Hnngh…d-don’t stop…p-please…keep going…” you begged as you felt tears slowly dripping down from the side of your eyes down your cheeks. 

Oh, how badly Hyunjae loved that sight of you. 

“You want me? You want me to fill your pussy up with my cum to the point that it oozes out and drips down your thighs?”

“Y-Yes…please…I need it…”

“Louder, princess.”

“Y-YES!! CUM INSIDE HYUNJAE!!” 

With those last words, his grip on your wrists and legs tightened to the point you felt his nails digging into your skin as he made his few final thrusts before you both eventually came together. You were feeling a good amount of liquid dripping down your thighs as you came down from your high. 

But before you could even process the thought that you had just fucked your senior right here and then, Hyunjae immediately pulled you up and shoved his cock into your mouth—forcing you to clean up every single drip of his cum with your tongue.

“You said you can take me, princess. It’s your job to finish every last drop of what you made me do to you.”

Hyunjae grabbed your hair and pushed you in deeper each second, not giving you any room to take a breather. He made sure you swallowed everything before finally pulling you apart to lean down and give you a little kiss.

Just when you thought it’d all be over, he suddenly flips you around and makes you get down on all fours onto the bed before he adjusts his cock once again on your clit. Before he decided to continue with his little games, he moved forward to whisper again in your ears—making your eyes widen before giving you the biggest challenge you’ve experienced just yet. 

“You know, the sudden thought of seeing little miniature versions of us both running around our future apartment doesn’t sound so bad after all.” 

[musouie]

[ 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚��𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜. . . ] 𝓗𝓐𝓜𝓐𝓡𝓣𝓘𝓐 — Driven by a desperate need for redemption, you undertake a perilous quest to capture the ancient and formidable King of Curses.

Yet, the true challenge lies not in seizing him, but in breaking him. His submission, whether voluntary or not, hinges on stripping him of all his malevolent energy — the dark force fuelled by his unbridled sexual power.

| RATED R language, smut, dubcon, somnophillia, monster-fucking, wc. 10.2k

| ⓘ credits: divider by @/cafekitsune, event hosted by @luv-lies, ntfx temp by @/chrollogy

an. lost the plot after 8k words. ignore this fact. for my sanity. please… (ALSO HUGE THANK YOU TO LUVIE FOR INVITING ME TO THIS EVENT!! i wish it turned out better than it did TT but thank you nonetheless. eternally honoured 💗)

Father always believed you were destined to be a great samurai.

He was certain that the kami — the gods perched upon the mountaintop — had willed it, for you conquered and devoured your sister in the womb, and were born on the breath of your mother’s last. 

“My little dragon,” he’d always whisper, eyes alight with something feral. Perverse. “You’ve fended for your honour since your very dawn.” The cleft of his cheeks would deepen; the wretched scar would warp. “Such might, such terrible might it takes to slay your own before you even bear a name, before your eyes have tasted the sun!”

But was it might? Or a savageness folded into the flesh; wedged between the hollows of your ribs and forced to dwell, fester—

“You were forged in blood, little dragon.”

—consume.

Still, as mighty as he believed you to be, you could never bear his retellings of your slaughters. Bile would claw its way up your throat, mercilessly coat your tongue with haste, and your stomach would always churn — innards coiling and twisting about themselves — knotting around the ugly head of shame that had long rooted itself in your gut; inevitably blossomed into something rotten.

(Its odour was so deeply foul, putrid and heady)

For you, savage as you were, had nearly killed him, too. 

(Putrid. Putrid and heady.)

It was so long ago, and still you trembled as though it were yesterday. Then, you were weak. Starved for strength. Hardly of eleven years when he had thrusted a katana into your small hands.

“Charge at me,” he had commanded, his own weapon drawn.

“F-Father?”

“Charge at me!” 

“W-What if—what if I hurt you?” Your voice had cracked, then was lost beneath your nervous swallow. “This is no wooden toy.”

He’d huffed. “You’ve been given what you need, little dragon.”

“But this blade—it thirsts. It will spill blood; w-will wound.” Kill.

“Then let it wound me! Let it bite if I am weak enough to feel its teeth.”

Your head had begun to shake. Slowly, at first, before it deepened with an intensity near violent; voice drawn thin around a high-strung whine. “I-I cannot. I will not. It is madness for m—”

“I will father no coward,” he had hissed, spittle collecting in the cracks of his lips. “Submit to the blade or master it!”

Your breaths were short gasps, then — curt and ragged — dragged from your lungs. “I cannot do it.”

There was a pause, and then a snarl. A low, furious thing, of storms and high winds and ire. “Well then, you must learn.” 

And in the blink of an eye, the steel of his katana had ventured to kiss your neck, greedy and blood-thirsty, sentient only through its master; ruthless just as he.

You remembered little of what happened between then — when the fire within your father had surged; when his steps had ceased and a metallic scent — cloying and smothering — clung to the air. 

You remembered that you’d closed your eyes — your face pinched tightly, stitched together with unbridled trepidation — and thrusted your arm out in a protective stance as you let out a shrill cry: the cry of a boar.

The cry of a warrior.

And you remembered the sharp clang, the strike of steel clanging against steel, and then, the foreign warmth that spurted along your skin. From the bow of your lips to the curve of your brow, you had felt it, and it felt you — as it slid down your nose, clung to the seams of your lashes, trickled onto your tongue.

Salt and honey and ruin.

Blood and blood and blood.

It had pooled inside your mouth, poured down your throat with little regard to how you squirmed — thick like tar, sweet like sap from a tree, heady like mead — and you whimpered at its sheer warmth. At its taste. The corruption it promised beneath.

(How could such warmth spring from a thing so dark?)

Your body had trembled, then, and you had wished nothing more than to spit it up, rid yourself of it. But oh, you were so weak, and your mind so feeble, and your tongue ached for more — for the warmth.

And so, you had swallowed it. As though it were sacred nectar, milk from the heavens. The finest wine. Salvation. You had swallowed. And like a babe that clung to its mother's bosom, you did not let up — could not bear to. Not when every part of you had felt cradled by fire, pressed into the womb of the sun itself.

You'd drank, mouth twisted, eyes closed tight, until your body hummed, until your soles had left indents in the soft earth, until you were his blood and it you —

(How could such warmth spring from a thing so dark?)

— until you heard a strained gurgle, a gravelly rumble, a shift in the air and the thump of something hitting the ground.

You’d opened your eyes slowly, carefully. And rightfully so, when you did —

(The warmth had been snuffed, your tongue had stilled. The hunger had ceased.)

— you had wailed.

Your katana was buried deep in your father’s gut, the hilt quivering as though it wept, too, at the horror — the savagery — that had been wrought. Soft whimpers had spilled past your lips, in sick tandem with the crimson river that gushed from the gash in his flesh, and you watched with wide eyes as the fire in his own fizzled out to something darker. Something familiar. 

Your chest had heaved. 

“I-I’m so sorry, father. I’m so sorry, so sorry. Sorry–” Your clammy hand tightened around the hilt, moved to free it from his quivering innards, but his own quickly engulfed yours. Squeezed it tight as he’d uttered, “Leave it.”

But his blood still poured. 

With a vice-like grip you clung to the hilt, hands engulfed by tendrils of red and riddled with blooms of gore and hate for the fissure they had carved into your father. You had carved into your father. With the expertise of a barbarian. A savage.

He had stared at the deep gash in his abdomen, almost transfixed by the blood that stained his silken kimono, before he drew his eyes to you: trembling on the bloodied training grounds with horror tumbling from your lips. 

And then,

with his chest stuttering slowly,

and the colour seeping from his skin,

he had...smiled.

Wide and warped and carved along his face — the smile of a boar (whose tusks abrasively chafed against his lips at the foreign intrusion.)

It’d bested the stretch of his fluttering eyes, his stained teeth, his gums — his red, red gums, bright with blood from hacking coughs — a grotesque thing that split his face like a second wound.

(It was this smile you had feared more than his wrath.)

Somewhere amidst his dwindling lucidity, he had closed the distance between you, hands seeking and outstretched. For his child, his beast — his beautiful, beautiful beast. He’d clasped your wet cheeks in the cusp of his paws, smearing his blood against your tears, rubbing them into your pores and crevices — his gift to you. 

And all you could do was tremble. 

Like the feeble flame of a candle, you had trembled.

“Wild,” he had slurred after a moment, tongue heavy and clumsy and viscous with the wine of his mouth. “And with so much promise.”

His thumb leisurely traced the peak of your fluttering, bloodied eyelids, urging you to stop your tears, then retraced the path once they were thwarted.

(His gift, his gift.)

Yet, your skin burned where his blood had smeared upon it.

His thumb had stroked your skin once more and you sniffled, felt the trembling begin to abate despite the singing of your flesh, the oscillation of your body, the guilt that clawed and clawed and clawed.

The need to lurch back from his touch had begun to dwindle as you realised that he cradled you not out of fear — but acceptance. Father admired your strength, however brutish — however untameable it might seem. For it took on a shape of a different kind in his mind. One more jagged.

“You’ve conquered another of…your clan,” he’d whispered weakly, blood gurgling from the clefts of his lips. “I begged the kami for a son that would become a great warrior, and I weep at their heedfulness, for they have granted me you — who was made in their image. Speaks...in thei– their tongue.”

But you were born a girl.

A weakness, in these destitute lands.

He’d frowned momentarily, as though the thought, too, had just occurred to him. He’d hummed, winced around a groan, his bones and flesh straining to force his mouth to its familiar shape.

“I can make a warrior of you yet.”

𓆩✧𓆪

Your journey began in the winter.

The cruel, harsh winter, where beasts are left to starve.

Starve, after they’ve torn through all they can ravish, gnawed at the splintering bones of carcasses, shredded through the withered foliage; left the already suffering land barren —

they are left to succumb to the hunger, 

or turn their teeth on each other.

“You’ve gotten weak, little dragon.” Father muttered, his sake cup half-empty and neglected on the worn chabudai between you. Your gaze flitted down to the small table, lingered on the drink, and then shot to the side as you slowly bowed your head in deference, scarcely suppressing the twitch of your jaw; the slight baring of your teeth — that were clenched and ground against one another until only dust remained. Sand, in the cavity of your mouth.

“Is it the weather? A fever? A poison?” Hues of red and pink licked at his cheeks — prickled down to the nape of his neck — as they often did with all men affected by drink and the chill of the winter. “Ah!” he gasped, feigning surprise as his eyes narrowed to slits. Seeds of contempt, lines of ire. “Perhaps it is your indolence. Oh — no,no  —  I suppose not. You have been busy duelling those with half your skill, and tenderising your tongue with cheap ale, haven’t you?”

“That—”

“You’ve ruined my reputation.” He let out an incredulous laugh. “A drunkard!” He gasped. “The kami — the almighty — have bestowed upon me a drunkard child!” 

You winced. Bit the inside of your cheek. 

“Forgive my insolence. Father.”

But you could tell by the weight of his sigh, that quivered with mockery, that an apology of that nature was far from what he sought. He leaned back until his spine met the wall, rested there comfortably — the structure his perch, his throne. His pillar.

“You beg for forgiveness too easily, girl.”  His tongue was too loose — or perhaps too heavy — and dragged his words into an elongated drawl. Made them stick on the blade of his disgust. You heard a rustle and then a scoff, and then so suddenly a cold finger was pressed to your forehead with enough force to leave a mark. “Straighten your spine.”

You did. Swiftly. And by doing so, you met his sneer. Razor sharp. Venomous.

“Such an obedient little dragon,” he purred, patting your cheek lightly despite the way his fingers curled, before he pulled away. Almost — just. And then absence. Restraint. “So why do you not do what I wish? Why must you make a fool of me? Mock me?  Me, who has given you your wings.”

Your lip had begun to throb.  “I’m–”

“Do you care for me so little?”

“That is not—”

“Do you seek to punish me?”

Sometimes, you wryly thought to yourself. But that was not the case now. You were careless, and you are young, and you yearned, and that, you feared, was the extent of your grievance. Your mouth parted to say as much, but so swiftly, and so predictably, you were cut off. Smothered. 

“Wasteful, wasteful! That is what you are — all you are! Twenty years of waste!” Father scarcely took a breath; shot on and on and on, spittle flinging all about. “I have paved a path for you — the kami have paved a path for you — and you, as insolent and useless as you are, have veered from it and done as you wish.”

As the last word left his mouth, your teeth pierced the fragile skin of your lip. Tore it, then shredded it, as though it were nothing. (You were nothing.) 

Iron trickled onto your tongue, a steady stream. Warm, bitter. When father got like this — reached this point of madness. There was nothing one could do but bend the knee. Submit. Give in to the voracious cycle of being pushed and pushed  and pushed. Until only dust remained.

You swallowed.

“What do you have to say for yourself now?” Your father growled, and everything began to sting.

“I’ll…do better, Father. I will.

“A hollow promise I’ve heard a multitude of times.”

“I swear it.”

He scoffed cuttingly. “On what? Your flesh or mine?” 

“Mine, father. Mine.” 

He studied you, his lip curling as though he saw something he didn’t quite like. “You—cannot be trusted. Not after the shame you have brought upon our house, upon me.”

You watched as he rose to his feet slowly, unsteadily.

Bent, swaying.

Drunk.

Still, he commanded a particular power over you, and you kept your distance — even as he approached. Your eyes sought refuge at the corner of the room, settled on the thread-bare tatami, the worn shōji sliding doors, riddled with tears and hazed with cracks; anything but the starving predator. You tensed when he neared, fingers pressing crescents into the meat of your shoulders, seeking.

He stared at you, analysed you, registered all there was to pick apart and feast upon: all of the imperfections and weak points and fraying threads and brittleness. From the creases of your brow to the tremble of your lips and the tight clench of your hands, balled into fists around the linen of your hanten. 

(Could he smell your fear? Could he taste it? A preview of all that you could offer and then some?)

He stared,

sniffed,

squeezed, 

and then, with a gravelly scoff, wrenched his hand from your skin — as though scalded — and strode for his chamber doors, his sandals slapping against the floorboards in time with your drubbing heart.

There was a shuffle, a pause — and something sharp in the air that you were at a loss to identify, though you knew, instinctively, that it was dangerous. Aged. You didn’t turn as he walked away, just kept facing his wall —his pillar, until his chamber doors slammed shut.

It seemed a beast had made its move, at last; left puncture wounds in your neck, bruises along your flesh. 

Perhaps not all would starve this winter. 

𓆩✧𓆪

That night, you had awoken to a cold hand cradling your cheek. Large, peppered with scars, coarse.

It was a hand you’d felt a plethora of times (struck across your face, grabbing at your hair, tightening about your neck) and instinctively, you flinched, eyes fluttering open. As you jerked, it lifted — freed you — moonlight hazy about its outline until your breathing grew static, and your body began to unfurl. Ease.

“Father?” The hand returned. Cupped your chin, then. As it curled around your jaw, you heard a light grunt above you, and the shadow — the man — began to materialise, and with him came a familiar scent. “Father.”

His fingers smelt of ale, his touch reeked of smoke; and under it, caged underneath the weight of all you wished him to be — all he had to be — was a father. A scent not nearly as sweet, not nearly as satisfying, not nearly as potent — but one your weak constitution could relish nonetheless.

His thumb stroked the high edge of your cheekbone with unusual tenderness, and you stared at him — his outline, nothingness — with probing eyes. ‘What are you doing?’ balanced on the tip of your tongue. It dangled, swung, breathed in and out as it hung on a thin string of saliva (or perhaps unease, apprehension). But you were a samurai. You adapted, not poked. And more than anything, you feared what would happen if you shattered whatever it was that gathered in the air — heady and oppressive, yet… sickeningly warm. 

You reeled it back in.

“It is very late.” Father murmured. And though you couldn’t see him, you could feel his eyes on you, seeking. “Even the cicadas are silent.”

You hummed, nuzzled your face against his paw. Indulged. “What time is it?”

“Hours before the sun will rise.”

You hummed again; peered into the darkness. Ignored the roughness of his thumb against your flesh. “Is…something wrong?”

There was a lengthy silence after your question, and after a minute, you began to wonder if there was truly anyone there at all. It wouldn’t be the first time you dreamt of your father — of this foreign tenderness. Of being cradled and cherished, in lieu of the harshness you often felt was inescapable, embedded in the soles of your feet and the stone of your wretched, beating heart.

The harshness that trailed everywhere. 

You lifted a hand and felt for the one that gripped your chin, grasping at bruised knuckles. Solid, real. There. Your thumb glided to the inside of his wrist, felt for his pulse, let out a sigh as you felt it thrum steadily beneath the pad of your finger.

He was there.

And as it had in your dream (dreams, plural), his hand slid along the side of your neck — large enough to encircle almost entirely; a thick, fat noose — and settled at the junction between, caressing it. Squeezing lightly.

Once. Then twice.

This must be a dream.

His motions were restrained, languid. Near painful as you waited for more, chest tight — stiff, only for it to never come: more. His touches remained light, harmless, and between them, he released a sigh, sake heady and trapped in his breath. You held your own.

Inhale, exhale.

(Hold.)

Inhale, exhale.

(Hold.)

And then, fingers lifting from your warm flesh, he spoke. After so long, you’d forgotten why he had at all. “Much, little dragon. There is much that is wrong.”

Your brows furrowed, your lips twisted. “What is it, father?”

“The kami…have spoken to me. Revealed their will.”

Slowly, you sat up, brought your knees to your chest and leaned close; your ear, hungry, angled just below his lips as though chasing his secret. The furrow in your brow deepened. “And what revelation did they grant onto you?”

There was a mirthful kind of sound from your father, something like a laugh, perhaps the crackling of flames, or a throat meshed together by blood and covetousness. And then you felt him lift a hand — saw it amidst the shadows; large, calloused, peppered with scars — to your face again. “Skin of stone, flesh of my flesh.”

Your mouth felt heavy when you spoke, sluggish and strange. Heady with metal and bile. “I... I don’t understand.”

And you could almost hear the ‘you wouldn’t’, as his eyes reflected the moonlight and gazed at you. Bottomless. Ensnared by a milky white. A waltz of dreams and nightmares; everything and nothing.

Something glinted as they leered upon you, a glimpse of cruel, steel sharp teeth. And you weren’t sure why, but somewhere you thought — no, hoped — that it would remain as it was: an illusion. A trick of the light (or perhaps lack of). But oh so predictably it moved, a line of ivory — glistening. Sheathed behind a thin curtain of skin and spit.

With the little sliver of light, you could see his scar — his wretched scar — warp and twist. Contort. “Rise. Rise, and I will show you, make everything clear. Will enlighten you, little dragon.”

That was all it took.

(Fool.)

You were too curious —

0r perhaps too mindless, 

to competently sense when you had gotten too close to the fire. To know that you should pull back one warmed, once the heat had grazed your fingertips and wrapped around you — grown in fervour, licked at your skin and seared it. Lapped and lapped, until your metacarpals were charred — and even still, 

— you’d obey. Linger.

Woefully so.

𓆩✧𓆪

You’d been riding on horseback since dawn — since you followed your father from your chambers and he helped you onto his prized mare’s saddle, whose coat rivalled the night. 

It was near sunset now.

In all that time, he had yet to enlighten you on what message he had received. On what had led him to embark on this journey up the mountain in such haste, such desperation, despite the bite of the frigid weather. 

Many times you had wanted to prod, sought answers — the hunger for it all growing ferocious by the minute. But each time your lips parted around a question, a dryness would settle in the canal of your throat, and the wind, it seemed, always blew a little harsher. Carried your words in a gust to the precipice of the mountainside and flung it; flung it into the pitch-black nothingness waiting just beyond. Into the abyss.

So, you said nothing. Allowed your curiosity to wane as your trembling arms encircled your father’s burly back and you clung to him, snow beating against your face and a sharp wind whipping through your hair, leaving you wild looking — dishevelled — and with cold-bitten cheeks.

This close, you could see his chest stutter, could inhale his ale-tainted breath — could smell his sweat, sharp, and somehow rotten. Some part of you revelled in it, because with the scent came warmth — and whatever residue of his own that still saturated in the fur of his deerskin was enough for you; a minor boon. A blessing.

Yet still, you were growing weary of the cold, the dull ache of hunger, and the rawness in your throat from heaving and panting, over and over and over again, like an old, weathered dog. So desperate were you to feel some semblance of relief; it translated through you burying your nose deep in his fur cloaks, a numb hand grabbing at your own cloaks to shelter the weaker parts of your body from the punishment of the elements, shivering into his solid form every now and again. 

Your father, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the assault; didn’t bat an eye — even as the wind blew his ragged travelling cloak with a beastly determination, the chill raking about his skin like cruel talons, as if begging him to turn around and flee. 

But, it seemed as though nothing would halt him, nothing would hinder him, as he wound up the icy path. Further, and further, and further, until there was nothing but winter all around — the only source of comfort: one another, and a black horse.

More than an hour had passed when the sky shifted, dwindling to a purplish-blue hue, like that of a plum. And finally, above the thicket of frost-coated trees, he brought the mare’s pace to a leisurely trot.  “We are nearly there.” 

Before you was the same scene of white — nothingness — but amidst that bleakness, which contrasted so starkly, you could see something dark just ahead. A speck, amongst vastness.

You nodded, a gesture unseen, and tightened your grip about his abdomen. “Will —” you licked your lips, mitigated their dryness. “Will you tell me what is going on?”

There was a shift beneath you as your father urged the horse around a bend, and for a few seconds you braced yourself, nails digging into his rough flesh as your body leaned. He let out a gravelly grunt. “The kami—they have…provided me insight of an…opportunity…for your redemption.”

Your body readjusted. “...Redemption?” “Your actions have not gone unnoticed, little dragon. They are…unhappy, as I am unhappy.”

“Father—”

He whipped his head behind him and you paused, met his glare — ice and scorn and all the sharp things you sought refuge from. If you had a tail, you’re certain it’d be erect, rigid and pointed. Instead, your spine straightened and you thickly swallowed, and as his head swivelled back to the path before him after a tense moment, that familiar sour taste returned to your tongue. Putrid—

“All we wish is to guide you back onto the right path, away from corruption. Simple as that. You are...” He paused. And for a second, the only sound that could be heard was the howling wind. “...very valuable to us.”

(Is that all you were?)

“But—”

“Do not argue, girl.” He all but spat. “Would you test my patience even now? After all you’ve done? All you haven’t?”

And as the words left his mouth, your face, frozen as it was, began to twist. Twist and twist, like you’d bitten into a lemon, features pinched and pulled taut — rendering you gruesome-looking beneath the moonlight. Wretched, like something caught ahold of you. (It hardly had to fight. You suspected it’d been there all along. Waiting, lurking. Creeping.) Your grip around your father’s abdomen tightened, nails digging, biting, cutting—

“Where did I go wrong…? Where did I go wrong? How did I end up with such a pathetic child?” He gnashed his teeth, a jagged rock lodged deep in the back of his throat — in the base of his stomach; bleeding, throbbing. “I have failed as a father…and in equal measure, as a servant of the kami.”

Your nails bit deeper.

There was something that stirred in your belly, in its centre, that grew more ferocious as he went on. And believe, he went on, and it grew, and he went on—

“We are fortunate the kami are so forgiving. Without them…what would we be? Pariahs, ostracised from our kind?” He shook his head, a sliver of a raspy laugh leaving his lips. The ale. You smelt it again. “But — do not misunderstand. They are strict with this most merciful of gifts. Do not doubt the danger that will strike us — and it will. It will — if you refuse the chance they so graciously have presented before us.”

And then the mist had waned; all had become clear. Shame. What you had felt was shame. The kind of shame that clung to the underbelly of one’s skin, thick and oily and all-consuming, such that when the heat of the sun returned, it stung.

“I do not want that for us….for you, little dragon.” He murmured, hands tugging on the mare’s reins as the speck came closer into view, and materialised into the mouth of a cave, barren and yawning. “Which is why you must do it. For us. For your future.”

Something hung heavy in the air, coiled and waiting.

You knew then — despite how much you wished it otherwise — that you had no choice in this matter.

As it had once before, your fate had been decided for you.

You relented. “...What must I do?”

This time, your father spared no hesitancy. The second after the question tumbled from your lips he slowed his horse, brought her to the mouth of a winding path that opened up to the cave, nestled snug between two crags. With the tap of his heel against her side, he brought her to the entrance, whereupon she came to a complete stop, shaking her mane and letting loose a long, quivering neigh.

"Inside." Your father nodded, his head gesturing to the entrance, wide enough for four men, side-by-side, to pass through without a hindrance. “There lay an akuma.” Demon. “This is what the kami demand of us — sacrifice the akuma, in return, they will bless us with their benevolence and favour for eons, in every undertaking.”

Tendrils of mist slithered from the mouth of the cave, billowing, writhing, as though they were alive, seeking, begging to be sated. It wrapped around the horse's limbs, trickling down her flanks, collecting into droplets. When she raised her foot, so too did they raise. 

Father turned to look at you fully. "It will be no match for your skills."

Against your will, your tongue prodded your inner cheek and retreated, as though bitten. "But—"

"No buts!" Your father growled, low, his large hand settling on the nape of your neck in the same way he did when you were younger. His palm encompassed most of the area, thick fingers curving along the back of your skull, enveloping you completely. Claws grazed your jawline and pressed, insistently. “It is this — or nothing.”

His eyes bore into your, the moonlight lending them a cruel lustre. Stiffly, you nodded — bobbing. Over and over. Your jaw worked, tightened, and then, eventually, loosened; tension receding in increments, as though reluctant to free itself.

A moment passed,

Then two,

And finally, you exhaled, long and heavy.

He gave your neck a rough squeeze. You returned the favour, closing your eyes — steeling. And as you began to peel apart one layer of flesh, one after the other, something slid out in its wake. A stoniness. Your nerves turned to clay. The stone wall erected itself.

When your father urged you from the saddle, you obeyed, your stiffness almost immediately melting away into a supple elegance of a body as your feet sank into the snow. With an additional hand to your back, he nudged you closer. To the mouth, the veil — to the unknown. Away from him. "Go."

A hard stare, the pinch of a claw into the curve of your neck, and your chin raised, taking in as much air as your tight, small chest could handle. Your shoulders squared, muscles rigid under his touch, but made no move to do or say anything further.

(Loyal little child, you were.)

You kept silent and offered nothing.

Not even as he tossed his precious katana by your feet. An offering.

Not even as he nudged you again; teeth clenched, jaw set.

Not even as he wrenched his claws, dragging you close, just to hiss out a final 'go'.

Not even as you took a single step forward, and then the next, and the one after that, sinking deeper, sinking further, the tips of your feet numbed, the tips of your fingers burning; a poor grip around the scabbard, that would not steady.

And when the dark engulfed you completely —

Not even as you tripped, fumbled, felt the soft, sharp caresses of frost against the backs of your legs, biting, taunting. Not even then.

As you heard your father's mare take off, trampling in the snow, whinnying behind you --- you realised he offered no formal goodbye. What if he never saw you again? His weak little child; so helpless and foolish. How would he know if you had succeeded? And yet, that had been nothing of importance as the pace his steed's hooves tramped increased with each stride.

You unsheathed his katana and drew your cloak tighter about you, eyes fixed on the darkness. There was only one thing you had wanted him to say:

Thank you for freeing him. Thank you for freeing you.

You were right, as always:

You had never truly been his child.

Only his tool. His beast.

Your feet scraped against the blackened floor of the cave, hands scrabbling against rock and stone alike to guide yourself as your sight dwindled more and more; a fog seeping and creeping, strangling the coordination from you. But the chill didn't abate with distance — and perhaps, all at once, it dawned.

How were you supposed to find anything in here?

You shakily inhaled, inhaled again as your other senses strained themselves to the limits, screaming — heaving; you tasted and felt your way around, a method to a madness. As your mind travelled further and deeper, an uneasiness grew in your guts and bloomed in the empty cavity of your chest, until all at once, it bled out. And you feared, with sudden desperation, that something terrible lurked beyond, where you couldn't see.

One wrong step, a misjudgement of any kind, and—

That thought brought your feet to a pause. Your neck creaked with the way your head tilted — ear facing the dark. But that was all. No other sounds save for your own laboured breathing that rushed through the mouth-piece of your scarf.

Why wasn't there anything? Anything at all?

Just how vast was this place?

Creaking your neck further, you listened — sought out, searched for anything that'd give your ears a tune, any sound to signify, any sound at all — anything.

But it didn't come. Nothing. Just your ragged breathing. The scuffling of snow and your feet. Nothing else.

So you resumed your steps, hands against the wall to steady your own blindness, and further down the mountain you delved. Deeper into the womb of it all.

Further and further,

Deeper and deeper.

The temperature of the cave walls began to change and slowly, steadily — you realised they weren't as cold anymore. The more steps you took, the warmer it got. Warmer and warmer, until it became unbearable. Almost as though you were being suffocated by an invisible cloud of heat; you could barely breathe. It became heavier, thicker, and it cloyed and churned at your chest, weighed it down, made the air you pulled into your lungs feel like cement bricks rather

 You were drowning — at least that’s what it felt like (You’ve never droned in your life, but if you ever were to, you’re certain this would be the feeling. A feeling of pure panic as one fights against an intangible foe as it steals their breath

You began palming at the interior of the womb, chapped fingertips failing to find a grip as you began to wheeze, throw a coughing fit, twist and turn — anything to regain your breath.

With an exhale, you crouched, grounded yourself with a fist full of dust and rock and gulped. Brought your fingers to the thick-coated fur and, you pulled, and pulled, until all that remained were thin sheets draped along the curve of your waist and chest, the rest, tossed behind you;

then you went straight into your descent

After a few long minutes of scrambling — body propelling itself with one arm thrown forward, the next, in sequence — you began to taste something like moss in your mouth. Sweetened by the saliva that seemed to pour more with each hurried inhale, every thumping, desperate heartbeat.

(Is this what death tasted like?)

You lost count of how many breaths you took, how many seconds, minutes, how long exactly, before there was nothing more than this wretched taste on your tongue, and a husk — a dried-out husk. Your night clothes clung to you like a second skin, translucent and dark where perspiration pooled — but it felt like nothing. It felt like there was no barrier between you and the warmth of the womb, seeping and seeping and seeping and —

(Where were you?)

Pushing your hand against the smooth ground to push yourself up, you fought another coughing fit, coughed and spluttered — dribbles of spittle leaking from the corners of your mouth.

Beady sweat gathered like morning dew atop your lip.

Swollen tongue clicked. Swollen lips parted.

It was then that you noticed something else, some semblance — or maybe just an imprint of one — of another (for it was a thing of mystery, more like an infernal tickle, a suggestion of sensation, a sensation which — much like this stifling atmosphere — you had no choice but to acknowledge). It came and went in a flash, vanishing — fleeting. A figment, of course. Certainly. It must, in your delirious state.

For what could explain the red eyes that suddenly appeared before you? A breadth away from your own?

You sputtered again and wheezed, shook violently as your diaphragm rattled, and with it, your slowing heart. Perspiration pooled. Coursed, as did the saliva from your maw as you drooled and drooled, and spluttered, spluttered and shook and —

Wasn't this hell? Was this it? Had you been condemned to hell?

Your lips moved, made a silent vowel; formed an indistinct vowel. No sound followed, only a dull huff from somewhere above — distant. The womb pulsed, contracted, and you found yourself cheek down on the cave's floor.

(And that was it. Wasn't it?)

You hadn't a strength in you left to do anything but let it happen.

'Allow yourself to drown', they'd said — those spirits whose lips were joined at the base. Where it all started. Where it was destined to end — right there, within the cave; inside the very womb, the belly that gave birth. The umbilical cord cut; the promise broken.

This was what they wanted of you, and so this is what they will get.

At the end of the day, you had not been your own ---

-- and a beast is never offered a merciful death. 

Your eyes, with little grace, fluttered closed. And then, there was darkness.

𓆩✧𓆪

“Do you know what an akuma is, little dragon?”

You shook your head no, eyebrows drawn near. “A…kuma? What is that?”

Your father smiled, “A demon. A mighty one. An ancient one. They’ve walked on this earth long before man, long before anything. We humans used to pray to them, sacrifice ourselves to them to appease their bloodlust, worship them like gods."

"Gods? Why would you think they were gods?"

He shrugged. "Power. That is the only thing one sees. Whether it's a dragon god or a golden deity with six wings. A god is a god. Power is power."

You fiddled with the sleeve of your hikimono, fluttering nervously. "So why do we not worship them anymore? Why the kami?"

"One had more power than the other. Scattered and banished the akuma all over the land and bound them to their graves."

Your gaze fell to your lap, face unreadable. "...why are you telling me all of this, father?"

"Do you know what would happen if their graves were unearthed?"

Your brows pinched. "I..."

You stilled as something was placed in your hands. Peering into your open palms, you stared at the small pouch. You tipped it over, emptying its contents into your hand. Your stomach roiled uncomfortably as you traced your eyes over the jagged shape of bone. A smooth piece. Too large to be human. The thought should have eased you, but your throat only felt as dry as a parched field during a long, hard drought. Your fingers closed around the bone and you tightened your grip, allowing the sharpened ends to sink into your flesh, ground you. "Where is this coming from, father?" you whispered. "What is this?”

"If one manages to unearth their grave -- their prison, the demon becomes bound to them. Unable to cause any harm to the one who set it free, rather, it will be grateful." His smile made your blood run cold. "Forever in their debt," he said.

"...Debt..." You opened your hand, eyeing the bone that was pricking your skin.

"Yes," he murmured, watching you. "All they can do, is kill for you." His smile widened and he leaned toward you. "And that, my child, is true power."

"Akuma don't come cheap, little dragon," a gentle smile ghosted his lips. His hands reached to touch your cheeks, making you flinch. He seemed not to notice, his thumbs smoothing the backs of your ears, hands cradling your face and neck.

Your bottom lip quivered as a burning heat grew behind your eyes. Your hands, unconsciously, held onto his yukata, bunching the fabric until your knuckles grew white. "Then w-what d-do they...require? Surely there is some price you must pay for these," you swallowed the knot that formed in your throat, "these mighty beasts?"

His lips pursed, something akin to sadness --or was it pity? Restraint? "You'll soon learn, little dragon. You'll soon learn"

𓆩✧𓆪

There was a searing heat against your neck, like a flame held too close.

Except it didn’t burn, necessarily. It felt hot, yes. But a pleasurable sort of hot…

What a strange thought.

Hot. Heat. Warmth. Comfort. Pleasure—

That wasn't supposed to be the first thing to enter your mind when you opened your eyes. Not when everything ached, hurt in a manner that was visceral. Made it near impossible to focus on the simple act of cognition; of breathing.

But there it was again.

An encompassing comfort that defied sense.

There was pain — and then there wasn’t. Fleeting -- yet not, existing in a nebulous limbo between one and the next.

There was the coarse, hard earth beneath your cheek and yet — despite how uncomfortable it should be, should be making your wounds bleed more, sting and hurt and hurt, you could not bring yourself to move from the comfort and warmth of your spot, and found you didn’t particularly have the mind or desire to care as that strange presence pressed up closer to the back of you.

Wet warmth latched against your skin, suctioned and dragged; from the curve of your jugular to that sweet point behind your ears that had the smallest of hums crawling up your throat — escaping without permission, a mere, gentle gasp that slipped through, eased.

Another suckle against the juncture of your nape — sharp, pointed, almost possessive — and you writhed, writhed against the surface below you; arching your neck more into what could only be teeth. Teeth that bit and grazed. Nipped. Then lathered. Tongue to lick the aftermath.

And how sweet it was — the soft, wet lick.

You tilted your head forward and rolled your hips. Once, twice — a tentative back and forth, coaxing. Searching. An open-mouthed pant followed and you pulled one knee to the side — an invitation, beckoning.

If this was indeed hell, then so be it.

Above the cover of your lashes, half-hooded and misty, something flashed briefly, as though a fire had sparked, glowed. A red so lucid that a sickly warmth trickled from your stomach and settled somewhere lower — somewhere between the junction between your legs, warm, slick, as something tightened and then flexed.

"Good." It hissed. "That's it, good."

Another lick, and this time it was deeper. Thicker. Something coated your neck, slathering, searing — the burning warmth spreading. Slipping and gliding lower and lower and lower still, towards the hollow space between your breasts. Your breaths picked up their tempo and soon, the pace became desperate, hectic. With a hefty jerk, a large hand grabbed hold of your chest and kneaded. Heavily. Thick fingers curled, squeezed, kneading once, and then twice, as if they wished to carve indentations. Indents to claim. 

And you'd allow yourself to be claimed. You would, you would! For this blissfulness for a millenia you'd allow it, succumb to it, surrender your soul to the flames of ecstasy, to the scorching, consuming; the being whose touch was bereft of solidness and whose shape and mass could not be given form, save for those fiery eyes that pierced and hovered and searched—

(Fiery eyes...?)

A asp escaped you and your eyes, swollen and heavy-lidded, struggled against their weight as you peered above and they shot open completely. Red met yours, eclipsed it, as your entire frame began to jerk, pulling itself up from where you'd previously lain. But to no avail. Something clamped around your shoulders and brought your chest back down.

"So restless," The voice came from all sides, ringing and reverberating. As did the fire that enveloped its entire surroundings in a stifling heat, bringing moisture to your forehead, to the tip of your nose and brow. In fact, everything felt damp, and your senses were muddled by that smell alone, musky, woody — a faint coppery sweetness with the sharp edge of rot underneath. "Be still." It commanded.

"Demon." Was all you managed, throat raw. Your brows drew together as you attempted once more — unsuccessfully — to pry yourself free.

There was nothing but silence for several moments, and for those moments you simply stared at one another — as if neither of you truly expected the other to exist in reality. A small breathy whine passed through your chapped lips and you wriggled again, reaching towards the abandoned blade to your right, but the creature pressed its immense weight on top of you, clambering, scraping and grasping ahold of any limbs you extended.

"Such a cute, tiny thing." The akuma murmured. There was a faint echo to the baritone — an undertone of mockery and cruelty, a gentler cadence and an almost child-like lilt. "I see this time they sent a frail little thing. My, have all the mighty grown weary?" He leaned closer, and you could hear the grin spread along his face despite not being able to see a thing. "Or are you...a treat?"

When his eyes descended down upon you, his entire body soon to follow as though his own size had become a hindrance, the wetness between your thighs trickled outwards to stain the clothing you still had on, and his nostrils flared in return. "Ohh," It seemed that was enough of an answer for him. "It has been so very, very long since I had a treat." His nose dipped to your groin (You could tell by the snuffle and the subsequent nuzzling), his eyes, a stark shade of crimson, staring back into yours all the while. 

And they smiled. Smiled so brilliantly the fire intensified, flared up to the cragus ceiling and down to the slickened floors — the red fire, for there were tongues of it — not just the dancing orange and yellow, but the red. Hot, fiery, violent red flames.

You inhaled a shaky breath as the hand pressed your lower stomach flat and slipped below your sodden sash, and just like his nose, its long, thin fingers brushed across the outer length of your slit — teasing. "S-stop!" You attempted a feeble shake of your head, eyes flying over the demon in attempts of visualizing. His image, his shape, anything. But the more you peered the less you saw; the fuzzier his silhouette grew — wavering. Murky.

"Oh?" Was it your eyes or did his figure, too, warp and twist; stretch beyond comprehension? The heat. This terrible heat. "Why do you shy away?" It felt as if something, an invisible finger, traced along the seam of your underwear, along your swollen labia. "Do not lie, precious little sacrifice." It whispered and again, his weight shifted, following the hand between your thighs, the fingers yanking your soiled garment aside — baring all to the open air.

"You reek of pheromones. That mouth, panting so. Sweet little cunt dripping, clenching, yearning—" Another fiendish grin. "Yearning to be filled."

"No..." Your eyelids grew heavier, mouth running dry. "Do...not touch me with your...with your...w-wretched hands." You forced. 

A breath fanned against the quivering skin of your thighs. Warm. Warm. Like everything else.

"You offer yourself to me on a platter," One arm wound about a leg, and tugged, twisted it to the side — as far as it'd go — before it stilled. "Scantily clad and wandering through my domain. And I...am the wretched one? Mmm?"

His tongue was on your skin now. Warm. Your eyes fluttered to your side as you sought your katana once more, fingers scrambling blindly against the ground — reaching, feeling, searching.

"That is the problem with man." His tongue returned again; only this time it slid up, leaving a slither of slime as it did so and then down, curving with your thigh to sweep at your clothed folds. "You give in too easily."

Your fingers continued to move about, drawing figure-of-eights over the rugged earth — until finally, the tip of one curled and clutched what must have been its hilt. Clenching your grip, you wrapped your remaining fingers around the pommel as best you could. A weak whimper crawled from the cavern of your mouth, escaping as a throaty sob that stuttered from your lungs. "Off," Your nails pressed so firmly against the surface they cracked and bent. "Get off. Get off of me! Filthy demon! Kami above, hear me—"

"They can do nothing." Came the casual reply, tone so chilling it had you clamping your lips together in spite. "Here, I rule. Here, no gods or goddesses listen,"

"---hear my cry and free me from this prison." You continued anyway, squeezing your eyes tight, fingers trembling around the weapon as you attempted to raise it overhead; its tip aimed directly at him.

(but did this voice hold power anymore, after everything?)

His tongue lapped at your clothed cunt again and he moaned. "Your gods," his voice deepened. "Have forsaken me," There was a noise — almost a gnarl and an exhale. "As they have forsaken yo---."

Your father's katana crashed against the back of the beast, his scales or his armour, and a growl — an unholy, vibratory growl erupted, rumbled the walls; the cave itself. "Little girl," His snarl sounded and his grip on your hipbone tightened. A fresh wave of pain bloomed, had the tears welling, trickling down the curve of your temple. You could sense a hesitation in his grasp, as it twitched and flexed. Before at last, his movements loosened.

In an instant, the sweltering heat, the mummifying haze, the mind-numbing stupor, the world ceased. Abrupt, and rather painful. For a moment the world stopped altogether, and then resumed. Except, you were the only being amidst the ruins. Not the voice, and not the fire.

Your lungs, they creaked as you dragged a sea of air back into your lungs, eyes fluttering as you did, flitting through the cave — taking a few moments to adjust before they continued the chase, frantic, searching. You could see properly again, and with that clarity, you did, in fact, clutch your sheer robes to your body, and readjust the small scrap of cloth that dangled between your legs. That was now stretched; stained.

“It was…you...” you whispered, legs shuffling as you rushed to put space between you and the akuma, who lay where you left him. On his knees, now that you could see. "...that made everything hazy. Messed with my mind and my vision..."

He didn't so much as twitch. His profile - fuzzy still – remained turned away from yours, yet his chuckle clearer than ever. As though he were beside you. "That I am guilty of…human. Though your lust," he murmured lowly. His tone, mirthful, despite the injury to his shoulder. "is entirely your own."

Hissing, you stumbled against the cave’s wall, wiping the mix of tears, sweat, grime and blood off of your upper-lips. "No, your demonic energy played a part. It messed with my concentration. H-had me confused—" you felt your cheeks begin to flame with both anger and embarrassment, eyes lowering to your lap where you sat cross legged.

He scoffed. “Confused? Are your people not made of lust? So hungry, you humans are." He didn't turn around but you sensed his stare upon your person. And from what you could see through the flickering flames, his teeth appeared unnaturally pointed, slightly crooked in nature. "Little girl. What a lovely morsel you were. My mouth salivates."

"...Then come claim your meal." You took your sword into your shaky palms and forced it above you. Your muscles burned with the simple act. "For I will die fighting you and your ilk."

A rough and low rumble reverberated and your face contorted in confusion when he threw his head back and laughed. An animated laughter, it was. But more than anything it sounded wild, like the whines of a pack of hounds — and nothing quite human. "Yes, I will have a taste of your sweet marrow." He murmured and it appeared the fire went out, suffocated. Blackened. And there you were once again, staring into the abysmal void.

"But I will take it on my own accord. That I promise, my pretty morsel."

You watched as he rose unsteadily to his shadowed feet, legs buckled, and his body grew tall, then taller as he stumbled towards the opposite wall — where the darkness was thickest. And you weren't certain if your vision had deceived you, if your fear had mingled and the ill-timed play of light and dark had simply been playing tricks on your tired eyes — but as you watched him settle against the wall, an eye flashing briefly before it closed once more, and a grin pulling taut across a deformed set of teeth, you shivered.

"Pretty girl.” He murmured. “Pretty sacrifice. Your… taste lingers."

Another gargle of a chuckle and,

"You belong to me now."

𓆩✧𓆪

You cradled your father’s katana to your chest as the hours passed, eyes straining against the darkness for any move the akuma might make. 

Your breaths came out even and faint from your nose — measured, as you listened closely. Every muscle in your body was taut, rigid, but the beast stayed exactly where he was. Silent, unmoving — just the occasional sigh and rustle.

It didn’t occur to you, until his sighs grew further and further in occurrence, that the akuma may be asleep.

Did demons…sleep?

Your mind spun as you racked your brain for all your father ever told you of them — all the stories you’d heard. Perhaps this is all some trick to lure me closer, you thought, fingers growing clammy as you remembered the press of his body on yours, the heat on the curve of your throat.

(The heat between your legs).

Scoffing, you pushed the intrusive, shameful thought away with an edge of reluctance — not caring for why, as you glanced back towards where the akuma was last. Whether he was feigning or not, you knew you'd never have an opportunity like this again. He'd only grow more hungry, you more anxious, and so with an inhale — short, sharp — you struggled to your feet and took a tentative step towards him, minding your footing.

You wondered to what extent the creature was hurt by your weapon. He seemed as though he were genuinely hurt, but that could be another ruse, another ploy to gather you within his maw and bite down. Devour you in one. You lifted your leg, balancing precariously on the sole of your right foot and strained your eyes, glowering through the black as you saw the outline of a large, tanned leg. Then another.

Two legs, then a large torso and a head resting on a bulging chest — all features and details carved in stark shadows.

Curious, you moved closer.  Saw tufts of pink hair on his arms, on his  head,, noticed that he was shirtless, and there were little pink hairs there too. You looked at his large hands, and squirmed as you imagined those large things on your body.

Moved closer. Rubbed your thighs together as you saw his lips. Mouth parting slightly.

Only a breadth away and his eyes snapped wide. “I can smell you, morsel.” you staggered back watched as he smiled crookedly and the wound began to meld.

“What–”

“You taste divine.” he licked his lips, long, forked tongue shooting out to the air. “Are you offering yourself to me this morning ... how generous.” he drew the s’ as his tongue flickered. “But I said I wanted to take you on my own.”

“I…I did nothing of the sort.” you murmured, placing your hand over your forehead as a dizziness overcame you, a heat licked at your nape. "S-Stop it." you waved your hand as though that would keep him at bay.

"Stop what?''

"Stop making it so damn hot in here." you wheezed. "You are putting a spell on my.."

"Is that right?" Another lick at the corner of his lips, another flash of red. "So delicate. Like a piece of glass." he mocked as he pulled back. "You stepped into my space, morsel. Do you...yearn for my tongue again?"

You shook, watched as his wound meshed together as a slick grew between your legs. "Do not. D-do not change the topic,"

"You tasted wonderful." he cooed, taking his time as he trailed his gaze up and down, a low purr erupting from the pit of his stomach. "Such a pity you do not share in our desire." He snarled softly and rose to his feet.

You backed away. "Desire?" You mumbled under your breath and for a second it occurred that perhaps his intention hadn't been as nefarious as you first thought — and to your surprise, the mere concept made your nipples pebble. "D-desire." you breathed out and immediately felt sick with yourself.

“I am going." You spat suddenly, flushing, not caring if the beast meant to harm you or not. For your instincts spoke louder and despite how rational this thought sounded in your head, something didn't quite sit right. With anything. With him, and his words. Even now. "My task was to...to..."

You continued to back up, and he continued staring at you with a smile. "...terminate you..."

His jaw shifts as he observes you retreating with slow steps. His entire presence feels very much predatory, the grin that spreads from ear to ear unsettling, a light shimmer of red peeking through the flesh. "But,"

He stalks forward, slowly, deliberately.

"Perhaps I can bargain with you. Offer something better."

"You do not have anything that interests me." you stated flatly, heart racing a million paces per second as you twisted and pivoted to flee, finding the opening at the mouth of the cave with newfound hope.

He ignored you. "Give me your energy, your body and your soul, and I shall offer you a head to take home."

"Are you in a position to barter?" You answered back just as promptly, stepping over the small and rocky slopes that brought you closer towards the exit.

You did not hesitate, and he did not answer either, which for some reason left your mouth slightly dry, even as you neared the stone steps you had first climbed down, and the faint beams of moonlight peeked through the pine needles, casting its glittering light in your surroundings.

"Just think it over."

And you did. Had no other choice to. Over the next week Sukuna tried to get you to surrender your body and soul (on multiple occasions you awoke to him stroking his cock right before you, moaning loud enough to shake the cave’s walls. Too bad you felt far too weak to even touch yourself.), and even though the latter seemed very easy, the thought of offering yourself, of surrendering what was considered sacred to him — and thus a forbidden fruit, became a frequent and desirable one. You allowed yourself to consider how it would feel to belong to him, how it would feel to surrender to those pointed incisors and fanged maw — perhaps his tongue, too.

No one will know, whispered the little voice inside of your head. It was just you and him and you nd the cold and you and your thoughts. For so long you were lost in those very thoughts, that the first twinge of hunger had you gasping, bending over and clutching your middle in an effort to try and stifle it. But it didn't. It merely grew sharper. Fresher. More persistent.

Over the following week your body weakened, it was expected, considering you had next to nothing to eat since you were in the mountains — save for the odd fern, few pine branches that resembled needles and the rotting bits of fruit you found. They were hard as stones, but still edible to some extent.

To the demon, this had not gone unnoticed.

"Must you suffer needlessly?" he had asked you on the eighth day. A taunt, and yet, an opportunity, nonetheless. "In doing so, does it satisfy you?" He took a few paces closer, his bare feet quiet along the dirt. You shrunk into the wall. "You cannot survive much longer, not in this winter, nor in this cold. Your frail little human body will not."

"You know not of my resolve." you stated simply, edging away when he walked forth.

Sukuna halted mid-step and curled his lips to show his teeth, to display that pointed fangs and a forked tongue that resembled a serpent's. "No," he sneered. "I know not." He stopped when he reached the centre of the cavern and rested against the large rock that held a permanent fixture in the core. "But there is that about you..."

He smirked. "That...smell." Your breath hitched, and his smirk grew. "You will not last much longer."

And you knew he was right. You were so weak. So hungry. While it seemed he grew stronger and stronger. 

"Aren't you lonely in this pit of fire?" Came a lilting chime, before you felt the caress of claws upon the hem of your kimono. "Little, useless thing."

The heat in the room seemed to grow. Grow and grow. The heat between your legs—

“Aren’t you hungry?” The akuma whispered. “For I am. Very, very hungry.”

You groaned weakly, lifting a hand to swat at him. “I…am not.” 

Stuttered breaths hitched in your throat as fingers crawled up the flesh of your thigh, trailed across the soft, delicate expanse of it — 

trapped, you knew, between a devil and a rock, and under that devil's stare, his hungry gaze, and the sediment. 

His long fingers reached for your kimono and shoved it up your thighs, made it easier to access your glistening cunt, and he took a claw and dragged your panties to the side.

“I can smell you, human.” He sung, a smirk on his lips. “You will enjoy this. It will be…” he paused, tongue flicking out, tasting your scent. “...a wondrous feeling.” 

Warm, thick saliva dripped and puddled around the crux of your thighs, his long, inhuman tongue delving itself between your slickened folds and poking into you, testing, sampling. You shivered and whimpered at the pressure of his rough tongue, how it seemed to reach every part of you, make you warm.

“D-Do not.” You forced out weakly, despite the fact that your hips lifted to press yourself closer to his mouth. The akuma simply ignored you, continued running his tongue through your folds as his grip on your skin tightened. Huffing and puffing as you dampened his face and oh— you are certain that this was hell. A fiery ball of heat that you were trapped in. Condemned to.

It was ludicrous, really, that in a time like this all you could of in a time like this was that your father would despise you. You didn't think of how you’d get home—beat the demon, slay him and drag his heavy head down the mountain.

All you could think of was your father, and your father, and your father and—

“Oh!”

The demon turned you over onto your stomach, forced your legs wider as he continued to prod at your hole. The sheer pleasure was far too much for your weakened  body, and it brought a surge of tears to your eyes. Your legs began to tremble and spasm, even more so as that ache in your core began to swell.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” The demon mumbled against your folds. “Despite how you writhe and fight you’re enjoying this.”

You could only manage a strained grunt.

“It’ll be worth all the trouble, human.”

Trouble…never would there be a more fitting label. This was trouble. His large hand running along your skin and squeezing your hips was trouble. His mouth moving away from your body… trouble. And certainly, the feel of his hand along your hips; something flared and soft prodding at your hole…was trouble.

Your body was weak, and your mind was tired, yet the akuma still managed to hold you upright. He moved his hands from your hips and further up your back, his claws digging into the soft flesh of your shoulders and slowly, carefully, the akuma pushed himself inside of you.

The feeling was indescribable. As though a piece of heaven had descended from the heavens and blessed your body, and as his cock sunk deeper and deeper inside you, you felt a wave of pleasure hit you.

You had never been with a man before, but this was different. He was not a man.

"Oh." You cried out, the sound echoing through the cave.

The akuma's claws dug further into your flesh, the sharpness of them almost breaking the skin. "Good, isn't it, morsel?"

You groaned, and he took that as an affirmation. Oh, how it felt so good, so right, to give in.

"I will take care of you, my little morsel," the akuma purred. "I will keep you safe, and warm, and fed."

"What do you want from me?" You asked, and he laughed.

"Everything."

Your squirmed, breath hitching. "…My soul?"

"Yesss," he hissed. "Your soul, your body, your energy. All of you."

He thrusted harder, his thrusts growing faster, harder, and you gasped at the pain, at the pleasure. He was so big, stretching you completely, and the way his cock slid in and out of you was almost hypnotic. Mouth ajar, drool dribbling down the corner of your lips, you could not help but moan.

"A-And if I refuse?" You wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

He smiled. Devilishly. As though he knew this too. "You won't"

A squelching sound filled the room, the akuma's cock sliding in and out of you, and you could not help but gasp, moan, at the feel of his thick cock inside you. Stretching you. Leaving you breathless and wanting.

"That's it, morsel," he hissed. "I'm going to fill you up, make you mine."

"Oh, God," you moaned, the akuma's thrusts becoming harder, faster, and you could not help but cry out, his cock slamming into you over and over again.

"Yes," he growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "Take my seed, morsel."

And you did.

He came with a roar, his cock pulsing, and you could feel his seed filling you. It was warm, and it was thick, and it was everything you had ever wanted.

"Fuck," you moaned, the akuma's cum dripping out of your pussy, and you could not help but frown as you felt his grip grow harsher, practically hearing the way his body hummed with new power.

"You are mine," he growled, his voice deep and animalistic, and you could not help but nod, the akuma's words washing over you.

"Mine," he repeated, and you nodded, the akuma's cum dripping down your legs, and you could not help but smile, the akuma's seed filling you, and you could not help but moan, the akuma's cock twitching inside of you.

"Yours," you whispered, the akuma's claws digging into your skin, and you could not help but shiver, the akuma's hands roaming your body.

"Mine," the akuma growled, and you could not help but smile, the akuma's warmth spreading throughout your body. His power: your power.

"Mine."

----

abrupt ending because i've genuinely been stumped on how to finish this TT. but thank you for reading x

[bleach-your-panties]

If y'all would like, feel free to submit ideas for the QOTD and TOTD for Thirsty Thursday!

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

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you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

[arminsumi]

“you’re short”

“okay? so put some inches in me”

-

all i can imagine is a sassy/bratty reader and a cocky gojo 😭

we’re going to ignore that i’ve only seen one ep of jjk and i’m already requesting smut over it ☠️

OOH, YOU FLIRTIN'?

💗 GOJO さとる

[ Note ] : 🥵😳 what a vision! and lol one ep into jjk n alr thirsty for gojo love that 👍 also u n me are so small compared to him 🫠 also idk if he's more cocky or dorky in this oops lol. and i am writing this on my phone at a sleepover lord help me i have been awkwardly shifting around and avoiding showing my screen to any eyes 😭😭

[ Warnings ] : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : suggestive/18+ content/smut, mentions virgin reader, getting caught

[ Playme ] : XXX

"You're so short."

"Okay, so put some inches in me."

"Yeah, I bet you'd like that, huh?"

"I would, actually."

"Ooh, you flirtin' with me, shorty?"

"Yeah, well you started it, big boy."

Big boy...? 😳

Gojo Satoru, your very cheeky and very bold classmate, who has not held back on flirting teasing you about your height since he met you, is rendered speechless for the first time.

But only for a moment. Soak up your victory quick. He stutters. His brain chokes up. His heart throbs like he's just developed an instant crush. His uniform pants feel uncomfortable.

And then he reanimates himself once he hears Suguru snickering next to him.

"That's pretty bold of you, huh?" he smirks toothily, sinking his shaky hands in his pockets. "Now you're gettin' me all worked up—"

"—oh yeah?" you lid your eyes and flirt. He's taken aback again. "Worked up how?"

"Get a room, you two. Honestly..." Suguru grumbles.

"Yes, I think we will." Satoru winks at you. It's a failed wink. Deep down, he's not confident in his flirting. No. Deep down, he's an awkward dork.

His brain short circuits when you continue flirt back. He actually runs out of things to say.

She's a mature flirt. I'm an immature flirt. How the hell do I keep up? Fuck.

When you and him get alone together, clearing up the chairs after a class, you tease;

"Come on, big boy, what's the matter? Lost your edge?"

"No... I'm just thinking." his voice cracks at the end, he clears his throat. It feels tight. His pants feel tight too.

"About what?"

"About what you look like naked."

You let out a laugh, and laugh and laugh, like he's the most ridiculous flirt you've ever met.

"What?" he raises a brow.

"You're so ridiculous."

Oh yeah. That irks him. That flippant comment. You're not even looking at him as you say it, you're scooting a chair into a desk.

He walks over to you and peers down, making the height difference between you and his 6'3 frame sorely apparent. What a big boy.

"Wanna repeat that for me?"

Ooh his voice is heavy and low, low enough to cause goosebumps on your skin. And the proximity? It makes you feel more than just small, it makes you feel a tingling between your thighs.

He comes closer. Grazes his lips across yours. Mixes breaths with you.

"Uh—" you get flustered.

"—haha, just kidding." he pulls away suddenly. Maybe because he got too nervous (true) or maybe because he felt victorious in knocking you off your high horse (also true).

"I thought you were gonna—" you begin disappointedly.

Satoru cuts you off.

"—do something? Aw, are you horny?" he winks.

"Yeah. For you." you roll your eyes.

Fuck.

My pants feel too fucking tight. Can she see the outline of my dick? Is she looking there?

"Is that so?" he raises a brow, staring right into your eyes. No one holds eye contact quite like Mister Six Eyes.

He chuckles, Addam's apple shifting up and down deliciously. "Aren't you a virgin?" he sneers.

"Yes. I am. Are you gonna do something about it, or just stand there like an idiot?"

He nearly chokes.

Wow. What? She actually just said that?

"Of course I'll do somethin' about it, sweetheart. But..." he leans into your air again, closer than before, 'n breathes tauntingly against your quivering lips.

"... does a goody-two-shoes like you really wanna lose her virginity in a classroom?"

"Stop stalling, big boy. I'm not a "goody-two-shoes"; I'm fucking horny." you seethe lustfully.

Fuck.

He's not sure how to respond. His brain is malfunctioning.

"Alright... then use your words like a big girl and ask me nicely to fuck you." he mutters, lips grazing yours. You can feel how badly he wants to kiss you.

Please say it.

The sexual tension has his heart racing, pretty cock pressing flush against the fabric of his dress pants.

"Satoru..." you begin, pulling on his collar.

He gulps and listens intently. The small touch your fingers make with his neck drives him wild.

"... fuck me."

Something just snaps inside him right there.

He crashes his lips onto yours with a feverish intensity, the rest his history—

—er, until the teacher walks in on you two right as things get toasty, catching Satoru with his hand up your shirt and your hand down his pants. And then you giggle off to detention with Satoru.

He promises to put some inches to your height. Uh... you know... by lifting you off your feet while he stuffs you up with his cock 😌

© arminsumi

No copying/plagiarizing/reposting. Do not promote me on other platforms.

[medullamindset]

SOME HC'S ABT THIS FUGLY MAN 💗

Uhh no tw's i dont think? Also this is my opinion so if u dont agree w smth.. Ok ^^ idc!! :)

(Also some of these hc's (like 3) are inspired by sunlit6279 on here, their Loris hc's were like the only popular ones when i read them so i injected those into my veins and ran with it yay)

SFW AND NSFW!

• Hes so tall.. Taller than Steb, whom is taller than caitlyn, whom is 6'0 (1'88 cm's) AND wearing heels. I'll say hes around 200 cm's, which is like 6'6.. yeah...

• I feel like hes kinda clingy but not in a "Pissing all by yourself, handsome?" Way but more so that he just follows you around silently and subconsiously, hes always gotta be in the same room as you, no matter what ur doing. Exept maybe pissing.

• adding to that i think he'd love showering together, as previously stated hes like huge so unless ur shower is magic only one of u is getting wet at a time lol.

but hes perfectly fine with shivering in the corner, as long as he gets to just admire you and lather you up himself, he'll gladly wash ur hair for you 💗💗

• But PLEASE RETURN THE FAVOUR OMG. Scratch at his scalp with a fruity shampoo and hes a goner, zooked, in pure bliss, ascending. Sighing contently with his eyes closed.

• saw someone else on here (sunlit6279) mention that he probably has a bit of a kink for scents. As a homeless drinker himself i doubt he smells that nice often, and booze sure as shit doesnt. But then you come into his life, lingering in his nostrils, and he just cant get enough. I feel like its the sweet smells that get him.. Marschmellow, sugary pastries, flowers, wild berries and chocolaty scents, that kinda stuff got him weak.

• He'll nudge his nose right against the pulse point of your neck and just inhale, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. Or your wrist right before kissing your palm tenderly.

• Physical touch and acts of service!! LOVE LOVE LOVES CUDDLING. ANY POSITION. ITS THE BEST TO HIM. please just cradle his head and scratch his hair n beard. Please.

He'll do practically anything you ask him to. Feet hurting? Massage. Need tampons/pads? What size pussy, babes?😽 ur hungry? Sandwich :3 wanna take over the world? Whatever you say beautiful. ☺️

...Want him to cum inside? Oh thank god.. He was close to doing that already..

• Hes def really sensitive when it comes to intimacy, everywhere. Hes a grunter, grunts and heavy pants. In the crook of your neck, behind your shoulder, into your hair, forehead touching forehead, depends on the position. God i want him so bad.

• he a munch. Loves eating you out no matter what ur sex is. He gets so sloppy with it, licking up and down ur hole like a thirsty mutt, shaking his head side to side as you cum, teasing ur nipples with his thick fingers.

Speaking of, have y'all SEEN how big his hands are compared to Vi's? Whom is like an 'average sized' person. His hands would swallow yours whole, hold his pinkie or something its probably easier.

•Hes FIT too, broad shoulders, lean back, biceps and thighs bigger than ur head.. Slutty lil waist. after a nice shower he'll wrap u up burrito style in a towel and carry you bridal style to your bedroom to get dressed (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

• On a more domestic note he loves your cooking, even if you kinda suck he still appreciates it so much. And if your great at it hes grabbing seconds.. And thirds.

He would love to help you around in the kitchen aswell, hes a terrible cook himself, but he knows how to chop an onion ok? He'd much rather do it himself than see you cry from it. He knows ur not actually sad, but he doesnt want his babys eyes to sting :((

• Loves petnames so much!!!!!!!! He'll call you things like beautiful/handsome or gorgeous at the end of a sentence. But also uses hun or honey regularily.. Sometimes he will let a 'mama' slip, but not in a weird way. Especially if you have kids already or are pregnant you're his pretty mama, okay? OKAY?.

• i love his SINGULAR mattlock dangling over his forehead. I think its a mattlock anyway, it doesnt look like a regular braid at all.

Lol i just know he'd let u use him as ur personal fidget toy, i'd flick that thing all day, watch it dangle around and smack him in the eye LMAO

--------------------------------------------

(HI!! Im probably gonna make a part 2 cuz i most likely have ALOT more to say abt him but uh i just brainfarted so have this 🤲 also hihi my askbox is open so go ahead and yap if u wanna. Fic ideas, headcanons, literally anything. Im probably gonna toot out some Steb hc's aswell cuz i have a few and i need that fishstick bad.)

[sirenmoontarot]

Hi guys! So i wanted to channel a FS themed PAC, and here it is! and what is more, it is posted for free on my new Patreon! Hope you enjoy this reading, take what resonates and leave what doesn't 🌺 I would say the language is just slightly +18 haha. Love you!

GROUP 1

Okay so here for this group I am sensing first that you will have your first time with your person around a time where new experiences, situations opportunities will be jumping at you! specially after a time in which you were not directing your energies to growth. I sense that your person would be so very thirsty for you. They will be very passionate, kind of like jumping at you out of desire...

Continuing reading for FREE on my new Patreon. I will be uploading content there!

GROUP 2

Okay for this group you guys, I am sensing that the context of your first time with your destined one, or future spouse will take place as in you are grieving for some kind of fight, disagreement that happened and that left you badly affected...

Continuing reading for FREE on my new Patreon. I will be uploading content there!

GROUP 3

Okay guys, so I sense when you have your first time with your person, it will happen during a period of your life when you decide to get your life together, to do things right in order for them to function, to embark on a new journey...

Continuing reading for FREE on my new Patreon. I will be uploading content there!

Wishing you all the best 💗 lots of fairy blessings 🍀

Visit my psychic shop

@sirenmoontarot