#Beanie writes

[corantus]

butch nonspecific bean bag bears. they should let me design toys for children actually

their names are handy, married, grease, and freak ❤️

[that-bitttch]

So;; I attempted poetry? Pls let me know your thoughts, I would appreciate it a lot!

Drowning,

I am drowning,

Amongst an ocean, vast, large,

Filled with blood and sweat and tears.

I am but a mere speck,

In these waters of woe.

Cold,

It is cold,

And the chill is gripping,

Gripping,

Gripping.

It reaches deep inside,

Unrelenting.

The tides shift,

And so do I,

The echoes of muscle memory,

And the tightness in my chest,

Forcing my hand.

Will I sink or will I swim?

Am I doomed to tread forevermore?

The future is uncertain,

But fate is not finished with me yet.

[joyful-enchantress]

Spring Heat (18+) | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

A/N: You help your husband through his yearly heat, which is part of the Jotun mating cycle. He's afraid he might hurt you, but you are determined to stay... I wrote this for @springdandelixn and her Double-Trouble Sleepover! Congratulations, Beanie, my love! I hope you enjoy this little fic that I put together for you 🖤

Genre/Warnings: Jotun mating cycle AU, smut (18+), rough sex, choking, dubcon? (everything is consensual but Loki is not entirely in control of himself), language, light angst, fluff too, filth with feeling, established relationship

Word Count: 3182

The sights and sounds of springtime were all around you as you strolled through the palace grounds —

The busy twittering of birds as they searched for food and fought over tree branches on which to build their nests.

The chattering of squirrels and rabbits and other small animals as they came out of hiding to begin a new season of life.

The rich shade of green returning to the grass in the meadow, speckled with pops of color where wildflowers were beginning to bloom.

Speaking of blooming flowers -- the palace gardens were thriving, and in the next couple of weeks were sure to become a spectacle of color, ranging from delicate pastel hues to bright, vibrant tones. Just in time for the Spring Festival that would be held at the end of the month.

Yes, spring was upon you. Your favorite season. It meant warmer temperatures and sunshine and new life.

But despite all the bright cheerfulness that spring brought with it, for your husband, Loki, it also brought with it a certain darkness.

His heat.

Loki was of Jotun blood; a Frost Giant. And with that heritage came certain Jotun traits, some more easily embraced than others. One such trait that your husband found more loathsome than the rest was the Jotun mating cycle.

Each year since his body matured, around the time of the Spring Equinox, Loki would find himself at the mercy of his primal instincts. Unable to control his animalistic urges to mate, he’d lock himself in his chambers until it would pass.

That is, until you had something to say about it.

When you learned of the agony he endured — both physically and emotionally — locked in his chambers for anywhere from one week to one month until his heat cycle passed, you couldn’t bear it. You had to do something to help, if you could.

You remembered the conversation you’d had with him well. It was shortly after your wedding…

————

“Loki, isn’t there anything that would make it easier to endure? Or at least make it come to an end more quickly? I can’t imagine a week of that, let alone a month.”

“Unfortunately, no, darling. There isn’t really anything that can be safely done to help it. The healers can give me an elixir that will suppress it, but I can’t take it every year, or it would lose its effectiveness. And besides, a heat the year after a suppressed heat is always more intense and agonizing.”

Your eyebrow cocked, looking at him with curiosity. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience…?”

He took a deep breath before answering, “Yes, I’ve taken suppressants occasionally in the past. The temptation of a year of reprieve was too great for me to resist at times. But I always found that the following year’s heat was far worse than what is typical. More desperation, more madness, more… pain.”

Your heart broke for him in that moment.

“Why does it last so long, Loki?”

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “It lasts as long as it takes for one of two things to happen. Either it quite literally burns its way out of my system, like a fever that takes weeks to break. Or…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked off into the distance, as if he was searching for his thought amongst the forests and rolling hills.

“Or…?” You gently encouraged him to continue.

Loki let out an exasperated sigh and quietly admitted, “Or… I mate. Breed. Fuck.”

Something about the way he enunciated the hard ‘k’, his Adam’s apple bobbing sinfully as the sound clicked in his throat, had your core throbbing with need and a wave of hot arousal unfolding over your body.

You blinked a few times as you contemplated what he said. “Well that seems easy enough,” you replied cooly, as if you were discussing the weather.

“What…?” He looked at you, perplexed.

“If having a good fuck will bring your agony to an end, then that seems like an easy solution to me. I can help you with that —”

“NO!” His rich baritone voice boomed as it cut you off, dripping with authority, anger, and — was that fear? “You don’t understand, my love. I am not myself when this happens. I lose myself, I lose control. I no longer am capable of keeping up the Asgardian façade; my Jotun form takes over and I am overcome with the primal desire to mate. I lose all regard for decency, I become… a monster. I am a monster.”

“Loki…” you reached a hand up to caress the side of his stupidly beautiful face, running your thumb soothingly along his sharp cheekbone and slotting your palm against his chiseled jaw, which was tightly clenched. A sign of his distress. “I love you, Loki. Let me help you through this.”

“I love you too, darling. More than my life itself. Which is exactly why I can’t let you do this.” He wrapped his large hand around the back of yours and turned his head to the side to tenderly kiss your palm. “It isn’t safe. I could hurt you. Badly.”

“I trust you, Loki. I trust you with my life, no matter what physical form you assume.” The next words you uttered came to you as easily as breathing, “I want to do this. Please. Use me. Use my body to sate your desires and end your own suffering.”

His emerald eyes widened at your words, most likely shocked at how brazen and self-assured they were. But swirling behind the shock was something else. Reverence. Trepidation. And lust.

He slowly swallowed, gathering himself together and collecting his thoughts after you scrambled them with your salacious plea.

“Alright then, darling.” He cautiously relented, his eyes boring into yours, searching for any sign that you were having second thoughts or hints of doubt. “Come springtime, when my next heat cycle is upon me, I’ll let you help me. I’ll let you be the balm that soothes my burning, searing ache.”

————

And now, spring was upon you. And any day now, it would be time to make good on your promise to him. For better or worse. You suddenly had a renewed appreciation for the words you spoke in your wedding vows to him, just 8 months ago.

Loki has been warning you for the past few days that his heat is imminent, and could take over at any time. He could feel it; all the warning signs were there. The restlessness. The irritability. The discomfort. Crawling under his skin like an itch he can't scratch. Until it makes him snap.

Each and every time, he asked if you were still sure. He reminded you that you could change your mind, that he didn't expect you to do this. That he'd never expect you to do this. It was entirely your choice.

And each and every time, you stood firm in your decision. You wanted to help him. You would do this.

The sun was beginning to set on your evening stroll, so you altered your route so that it would lead you back towards the private chambers that you shared with Loki. As you approached the hallway which led to your shared door, you could feel a distinct, unseasonal chill in the air.

Was this it? Was tonight the night?

Once you reached the ornate wooden door, you noticed a thin blanket of frost coating the edges of it, as if, behind the door, was the force of winter itself, its icy chill seeping through the gaps between the door and the frame.

You reflected for a moment on the irony that all this frost and chill was the result of something called a heat, and you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself.

But then you remembered that not just fire, but ice, too, can burn.

A shiver rolled down your spine, and the cold seeping through the doorframe wasn't entirely to blame.

You took a moment to gather your courage, reminding yourself that this was Loki. Your husband. Your one true love.

You could do this.

You softly knocked, each tap of your knuckles against the cold wood sending a jolt of bravery through you.

"Loki... can I come in?"

"Pet..." The voice that answered you was familiar, but more... ragged. It was deeper, if that was even possible, and assumed a huskiness that made your usually gentle husband sound nothing short of feral.

It sent a surge of hot, wet arousal through you, which pooled between your thighs.

"I'm here, Loki..." you whispered like a prayer. "Let me help you."

"This is your last chance, pet," he warned. "You can still change your mind. But the moment you open the door, I'm afraid there will be no going back."

Good thing you had no plans of going back.

You opened the door and stepped into your chambers; after ensuring the door was closed and locked, you took a deep breath. This was it.

As you turned around, you came face to face with your husband.

Except he wasn't quite the Loki you knew. For one thing, he was taller. Much taller. At least 8 feet tall. You briefly wondered how you'd be able to take him in this form. His usually porcelain skin was replaced with a brilliant cerulean, and across every bit of blue that your hungry eyes could find, were ridges that swept across his skin in bold strokes and delicate lines, forming intricate patterns that you longed to trace with your fingers. As your eyes settled on his face, you found some familiarity there. You recognized the bone structure and the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips; the luscious raven locks that framed his angular face were unchanged. But in place of the emerald orbs that you knew and loved were two glistening rubies, staring at you with an intensity that could only be described as ferocious.

He was beautiful. Flawless. You saw no monster before you. Only your husband. Showing you a side of himself that he has kept hidden from you. Until now.

You broke the silence first, and simply muttered, "I love you, and I am here. Use me."

And that was all the permission he needed.

He closed the distance between you impossibly fast, like a predator stalking its prey, and wrapped an icy hand around your throat, squeezing firmly, the coldness stinging like pins and needles against your skin.

His lips met yours with an urgency that you hadn't experienced before; any hint of gentleness was gone and in its place a brutal clash of tongues and teeth as he claimed your mouth, a throaty growl slipping past his lips as he basked in the taste of you on his tongue.

Fear crept up your spine for the first time since you entered, and you brought your small hands up to claw at his wrist, a desperate attempt to let him know that you needed a break; you needed to breathe.

Something within him seemed to get the message, because he peeled his mouth away from yours and released your throat, repurposing his hand to wrap around your midsection and toss you unceremoniously onto the large bed in the center of the room.

You had to admit that part of you enjoyed the way he was manhandling you.

He wasted no time freeing himself from his garments and strode towards the bed, where he situated himself over you, caging in your small frame like a hungry animal about to enjoy the spoils of its hunt.

You gulped at the sight of his enormous cock, as it bobbed angrily against his stomach, covered in the same ridges that decorated the rest of his body, the tip weeping with the evidence of his primal desire. For you.

"These pretty silks have got to go," he rasped against your ear, his breath somehow both hot and cold.

He roughly grabbed the fine fabric and you winced as you heard him rip it to shreds as easily as if your dress was made of flower petals from the garden.

Within seconds, you were bare before him, and his ravenous gaze lazily roamed over your body, savoring every dip and every curve like the sight of you alone could sate him.

Even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

When he decided that his eyes had had their fill, he brought two fingers up to prod against your lips, his gaze meeting yours, daring you to defy him.

But you didn't dare.

You submissively parted your lips and wrapped your mouth around his fingers, astonished at how much your mouth had to stretch just to accommodate them. A wicked smile tugged at his lips as your tongue danced over his digits, preparing them for exploration of another warm, wet hole.

A gasp escaped your lips as his fingers were abruptly pulled from your mouth and pushed inside your weeping cunt. They pumped and stretched you almost as much as his normal cock would, and you shuddered at the thought of what was to come.

The nerves melted away though, as his thumb found your clit and worked the sensitive nub in sweeping circles, pleasure taking over your senses and lulling you into a state of calm.

"Loki..." you whispered softly between your whimpers and pants.

He growled in response, withdrawing his fingers from your soaked pussy and wrapping his hand around your thigh, forcing your legs open as wide as they would go.

Before you had a chance to adjust to the new position, his huge cock was at your slick entrance and he thrust forward, forcing as much of himself inside you as he could, his girth stretching your walls and the tip pushing against your cervix. The sudden intrusion took your breath away, and the stinging pain you felt caused unshed tears to well in your eyes. The coldness of his skin only heightened the sensations, forcing your mouth open in a silent scream as he claimed you.

You loved him. You wanted this. You silently reminded yourself as a large blue hand found your throat once again and wrapped around tightly.

A feral moan left his lips as he began to rut into you roughly. Pushing himself in as far as your body would allow. Over and over. Chasing his own pleasure without regard for your own.

"So warm... So tight... You take me so well, pet." He grunted between thrusts. "You're mine."

You couldn't help the fresh pool of arousal that gushed between your legs in response to his words. Even as he wrecked your body and used it like a toy, you loved nothing more than being his.

His rhythm became sloppy and you knew he was close.

With a wild growl, he pulled out of you and violently flipped you over onto your stomach. You were thankful you were on the mattress and not on the floor in that moment.

His large hands dug into your hips, pulling them upwards and angling you so that he could sink himself once again into your tight cunt. You turned your head to the side, gasping for air between shameless moans as he pounded into you from behind like an animal.

It didn't take long for him to reach his peak; he let out a primal roar as he came, pumping you full of his seed. You felt it leaking out of you, dripping down your inner thighs as he continued to shallowly thrust into you while he rode out his high.

And that was the last thing you remembered before darkness blurred the edges of your vision and you succumbed to exhaustion, your body limp and spent.

--

Later, when you came to, you wiggled your fingers and toes first and slowly worked your way to moving each limb, assessing the soreness. There was an undeniable ache, but nothing you couldn't manage. You sat up in the bed and looked around the room, searching for Loki. Your eyes settled upon his familiar Asgardian form, huddled on the chair in the corner, as if he was putting as much distance as possible between the two of you without leaving you alone. His eyes were red, but not because of his Jotun blood. Because he had been crying.

"Loki, what's wrong?!" you frantically asked.

When he realized you were awake, he rushed to your side. "What's wrong? Love, look at what I've done to you!" He gestured to your body, to the bruises on your inner thighs, your hips, your wrists, your neck. He pointed to the mess between your thighs, to the bit of blood that was on the sheets between your legs. "I'm a monster. A vile, disgusting creature. I should have never let you do this!"

He looked away from you, ashamed.

You reached for his hand, in an effort to reassure him. "Loki, I wanted this. I wanted to help you. I insisted." Your thumb stroked the back of his hand in soothing circles, willing him to believe that you were okay. "And look! It worked. Your heat lasted only a few hours instead of weeks!"

"But at what cost?" He muttered, without meeting your gaze.

"I am your wife. We are a team, in everything. I vowed to be there for you and to love you no matter what, for better or for worse. A few bruises and some soreness are a small price to pay once a year if it means my husband isn't in agony for weeks at a time."

He sheepishly met your gaze then, peering up at you from under his eyelashes.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered softly.

"Yes you do. Because you are the most amazing person I know," you smiled easily as you said it. "Now, I did say we are a team, so if you're done sulking, I do believe it is your turn to do your part. Don't you have some magic healing powers that could soothe some of my aches, or am I misremembering?"

Now it was his turn to smile at you. He got to work straight away, a blanket of green seidr engulfing your body and buzzing through you, soothing away the worst of your residual pain. Then he spent the day spoiling you, running you a hot bath with your favorite rose scented bath oil, pampering you with a massage, and waiting on you hand and foot.

"Darling?"

"Yes, Loki?"

A wolfish grin crept across his lips. "When you've had a day or two to recover, I intend to make last night up to you, tenfold. To drown you in so much pleasure that the only word you'll remember is my name as it falls from your lips like a mantra."

You met his grin with your own cheeky smile. "And I intend to hold you to that, Laufeyson."

His lips met yours, then, in a passionate kiss; one that conveyed all the love and adoration he held for you. Your lover. Your husband. Your everything.

Spring was definitely your favorite season.

--

--

Tagging some lovely people who might be interested. No worries though if not, of course! @lokisgoodgirl @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @cheekyscamp @give-me-a-moose @sarahscribbles @gigglingtigger @ladyofthestayingpower @mischief2sarawr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsreacts @maple-seed @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @thomase1 @peachyjinx @superficialdomina @peaches1958 @evelyn-kingsley @simplyholl @tallseaweed @cake-writes @tripleyeeet @lokiandbuckysdoll @vbecker10 @lovelysizzlingbluebird

[yan-randomfandom]

Beanie Stanley Pines x Reader

"Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?"

— Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

You kissed Stan.

Actually, it's more of he kissed you.

When you finally leaned away, his gaze at you felt so endearing, so warm, and so full of love. His eyes have always held in a heavy weight of tears, but for once, they're finally out of happiness.

He removed his red beanie, carrying it in his hands like it was fragile, before offering it to you. You tilted your head in curiosity, a never-ending smile on your face.

"What's this for?"

"...I just wanna see how you look wearing it."

[poursomesunaonme]

teacher’s lounge

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: what’s a better start to your hungover morning than a fling with the pain in your ass in the teacher’s lounge? nothing!

wc: 5.3k

cw: reader is hungover, enemies to fuckers..? lmao, gojo thinks he’s a therapist, size kink, semi-public sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, lots of teasing, nipple play, hand kink!, praising, gojo is a cocky ass mf, protected sex, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart)

a/n: rewrite of one of my first goj fics, love this sob <333

The satisfying hiss of the coffee maker was music to your ears as you leaned against the counter, the light  of the sun peeking over the horizon gently flooding in through the blinds.  Your fingers massaged the ache in your temples, trying desperately to alleviate the throbbing hangover that had been bothering you all morning.  The coffee dripped into the pot at an agonizingly slow pace, the strong scent invading your nose, attempting to clear up your foggy headache.

Your foot tapped impatiently as you waited for the pot to finish brewing.  Of course, you would kill yourself trying to be nice by making a whole pot for everyone to enjoy, but in the process, drive yourself over the edge of impatience - or rather, insanity.  You were tempted to snatch the pot and guzzle the liquid straight from the spout.  Your whole body ached with the worst effects of last night’s drunken stupor, providing a vignette of how the rest of the day would go.

You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment as the coffee neared the finish line.  Frustration pulsed through your veins, fueled by your sickly physical state.  Last night had just been another fucked up date as any, so you weren’t even sure why you were even a tad frustrated at this point.  All guys were the exact same.

Nothing was going to change for you, no matter how much you tried, no matter where you looked.  There wasn’t a handsome stranger waiting for you at the bar, no kind gentleman to help you pick up your groceries after he accidentally bumped into you and knocked them out of your arms.  Real love was only found in fairy tales.  A wry smile found its way to your face as you chuckled at your cynic commentary of life this early in the morning on a school day.

A sigh escaped your lips as the coffee maker coughed out the last few drops.  You didn’t hesitate to seize the pot and pour yourself a steaming hot cup, adding creamer and sugar.  You grabbed a stirrer and approached the window of the lounge, watching the sun rise over the buildings.  It was a miracle that you even got out of bed this morning.

The styrofoam cup met your lips just as the door to the lounge flung open behind you, hitting the doorstop with a dramatic bang.  The coffee threatened to spill over the sides of the cup as you jumped, scared by the sudden noise.  You whirled around, seeing none other than Gojo Satoru grinning widely at you as he strode to the kitchenette.

“Good morning!” he exclaimed.  His eyes glimmered at the sight of a pot of coffee already made.  He took to pouring himself a cup without another word.  You turned around and peered through the blinds, surveying the still-empty campus, all while blatantly ignoring him.  His footsteps approached where you were standing.  You could sense his body next to yours.  The baited silence was only an attempt to conceal the fact that he was perturbed at your lack of response.  The hot coffee seared down your throat, bringing tears to your eyes.  Anything to avoid talking to the pain in your ass.

“Jeez, tough crowd.  You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

With a dramatic eyeroll, you decided to dignify his comment with a response.  “Thanks, Gojo.  I appreciate it.”  You couldn’t help the venom that laced your voice.  The presence of the epitome of pride was the cherry on top to your already shitty morning.  If all men were the same, he was a cut above - the worst of the worst.

“I’m guessing it was that date last night?” he inquired, much to your surprise at his knowledge of your affairs.  Your turned to face him as he shrugged innocently.  “I overheard you talking about it before the weekend.”

Your mind flashed back to the only time you mentioned the date at school.  It had been during your lunch duty the previous Friday, sitting with one of your coworkers as you surveyed the business of your students.  

“Uh-huh.”  The sun continued its lazy climb.  You checked your watch, sighing as you knew that most of your coworkers wouldn’t stop by the lounge for another thirty minutes or so.  Your lack of planning really did you in this weekend, as explained by your presence in school this early in the morning to catch up on work you didn’t finish.

“So how’d it go?”  You knew that the questions wouldn’t stop flowing from his mouth until you answered and stroked his ego a bit.  You rolled your eyes, going to sit down in your favorite chair as you prepared yourself for the interrogation that would get you out of this situation as quickly as possible.  Satoru followed suit and took a seat on the couch across from you.  He set his cup on the table and leaned forward.  His elbows rested comfortably on his knees.

“It sucked.”  You squirmed under what you assumed was his gaze.  Even with his blindfold on, his eyes still pierced through you as if they were bare and searching your innermost thoughts.

“Okay, what sucked about it?”  The questions showed no signs of stopping.  Your nerves began to fray at the incessant prying.

“What are you, my shrink?” you barked.  His expression didn’t change from his usual soft - borderline cocky - smile.  He knew he was getting to you; it was the kind of thing he got off on.  You wanted to throw the scalding coffee on him.  

“No, but am I not your friend?”  His voice dripped with a sweetness that threatened to make your teeth rot.

“Nope.”  You didn’t hesitate to squash his pride, but nothing in his demeanor gave away your victory.  You watched him intently as he took another sip of his coffee and swished it around in the cup.

“Well, all that nastiness aside, back to the dating thing.  You win some, you lose some.  That’s the fun of it!”

The enthusiasm in his voice made you sick.  And it wasn’t just that.  You were frustrated, hungover, tired, and he was… him.  Awfully annoying, an eternal optimist (a naïve child), and proud as hell.  And he could be all those things without much consequence because he was Gojo Satoru, the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer.  As much as you hated to admit it.  And all those infuriating facts were why you disliked him so much - because he never let anyone forget it.

“We have very different perceptions of dating,” you muttered.  It wasn’t like you were dating for marriage, but an emotional connection was nice from time to time.  You sighed, seeing the coffee level in your cup dipping dangerously low.  You swirled it around, deciding it was best to get more.  It was already working its way into your system, bringing your exhausted body somewhat back to life.  You stood up, watching as Satoru downed the rest of his cup’s contents.

“Believe me, I’m well aware,” he laughed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.  You furrowed your eyebrows and opened your mouth to speak at his crypticness, but he spoke before you could get a word out, extending his empty cup to you.  “Get me some while you’re up?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you shot at him.  “And no, get your own.”

“Whatever you say,” he shrugged and stood, towering over you.  You turned tail and stormed towards the pot, determined to ingest enough liquid gold to get you to function for the day.  Unfortunately, his long strides beat you to the pot.  He snatched it before you could get a grip on the handle.

You watched, your eyes burning, as he poured his cup.  With a grin, he gestured for yours.  You both stood still for a moment before he made it clear that he wasn’t going to put the pot down for you to use.  Begrudgingly, you held it up and he filled it.  The warmth of the coffee began to seep through the styrofoam and over your palm once again.  

With a deep breath, you suddenly become acutely aware of how close you were to Satoru.  A tinge of blush rose to your cheeks as you ducked your chin to your fluttering chest, trying to hide the reaction you had never experienced around him.

“You’re not very fond of me, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?”  A sly smile rose to your face without warning.  In an effort to conceal it, you turned around to pour creamer and sugar into the cup.  You idly stirred it all together while walking back to sit down.  You thought Satoru was following close behind.  Instead, you heard the door of the lounge close quietly, as if he were attempting to conceal it.  He didn’t bother to answer your question.  

With the door closed, it was just the two of you in what was beginning to seem less and less like an impromptu therapy session.  With the door closed, you felt as if there was no escape from the man.  With the door closed, you were just a bird in a cage, being watched by a man who obviously wanted to hear you sing for him.

You settled back down, crossing one leg over the other, watching through lidded eyes as Satoru sat, spreading his legs and draping his arms over the back of the couch.  His shirt was unbuttoned just two buttons below of what it should’ve been.  It was enough to avoid a dress code violation but also give off the relaxed teacher vibe to students and a “I’m a slut but on the down-low” vibe to the rest of the adult world.  In any case, with the way his arms were spread and his shoulders opened up, a peak of his chest shone through.  You tried your best to avoid staring at the glimpse of a chiseled masterpiece, but if that was what just his chest looked like, you wanted to see the rest of him.

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to reign in your thoughts.  Why why why?  Why now, of all times, were you lusting after this prick?  Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t gotten good dick in a few months.  Maybe it was the fact that he was the only man who gave you attention, as much as it bothered you to no end.  A sigh escaped your lips.

“Back to our conversation,” you began, hoping that talking would help your mind to clear, “dating isn’t as fun when all the guys see you as a slab of meat to fuck.”

Your eyes searched him for a bodily reaction that you knew wouldn’t come.  He could also win the award of “most difficult person to read in human history.”  He tilted his head down with a look that you couldn’t quite fully determine without seeing his eyes.  You took a sip of your coffee to ease the discomfort you felt.

“That’s not how I see you.”  Your heart skipped a beat as it screamed to control every muscle in your body that wanted to jump him.  You hung on his words as he piped up, albeit quieter.  “… at least, not all the time.”

Your eyebrows jumped, but you quickly regained control of your reactions, returning your face back to its resting expression.  Your cheeks heated, knowing that he could see straight through you even though you couldn’t even ascertain what you yourself wanted.

“You really think you’re a therapist now, eh, Gojo?”

“Of course, it’s just because I’m the best!”  His signature catch phrase was like nails on a chalkboard, but it easily helped you ground yourself on the fact that you hated him.

“For fuck’s sake, we know.”

“Yes!  The best at fighting, the best at teaching, and…”  He lifted his blindfold to reveal one of his cosmic eyes.  Your heart skipped a beat as you melted under his gaze.  You wouldn’t be able to hold onto sanity for much longer now.  But you decided that you might as well try your best.

“Let me guess,” you spat coldly, “sex?”

He laughed, the sweet sound ringing through the air as he let the blindfold fall to cover his eye once again.  Your breath came easier that you weren’t directly under his scrupulous stare.  “I was pausing for dramatic effect and going to put it in a more tasteful way… but yes.”

You rolled your eyes.  “I’m sure.”  It wasn’t anywhere close to a lie.  And that’s exactly why you didn’t leave the lounge the second he walked in.  Another stream of coffee flowed down your throat as you began to feel normal, last night’s hangover almost completely dissipated.

“You want me to prove it to you?”  Without warning he stood, rising to his full height while you sat.  He was so big.  You seemed so small.  You were frozen in place as he sauntered around the back of your chair.  The hair behind your neck stood on end as you felt him come to a stop and gently rest a hand directly behind you.  Everything in your body strung taught at the proximity of his unmatched energy.  His abandoned cup of coffee sat full on the table.

“Last night seems to have taken a toll on you,” he purred, his hand moving to glide over your shoulder and down your arm, rustling the fabric of your blouse.  You tried to hide a visual shiver as goosebumps spread all over your body.  His fingers trailed up your arm, across your shoulder, until they reached your neck.  You held your breath as his fingers hooked under your chin, tilting your head up, as his palm was resting on the side of your head.

Shit, the man’s hands were ginormous.

“I wouldn’t mind helping you wind down.”  His voice had lowered significantly as he leaned over, grinning devilishly at you.  You swallowed, the bump in your throat brushing against his long fingers.

“In the teacher’s lounge, nonetheless,” you sneered to his amusement.  Your head tilted down gently and he took the hint and released you.  The rustle of his clothes indicated movement as he came around the chair and squatted next to it, crossing his arms on the armrest and setting his head on them.  He seemed so innocent.

“I couldn’t think of a better place!  It makes it a lot more fun.”

Silence settled between you as you tried to gauge whether or not this was a sick joke while also trying to battle the fact that literally could anyone could walk in, even a student as they would most likely be starting to arrive to their classes, and the fact that you were seriously about to fuck a man that annoyed the everliving shit out of you.

“Gojo… you’re serious?”

His smile made his answer undeniable.  “Yes.”

He raised his head, the smile still plastered giddily on his face.  The corners of your mouth turned upwards into a gentle smile of your own as you leaned towards each other.  The collision of your lips was nothing but satisfying as you instantly melted into putty.  Every grudge, every annoyance, every dislike of him melted away as the pillowy cushion of his lips touched yours.

Realizing you still held the cup of coffee in your hands, you broke the contact as much as you hated doing it.  Satoru noticed and plucked the cup from your hand, moving to set it down on the table.  Still on his knees, he situated his body to face yours, squeezing himself between your chair and the table.

The tension built as his hands trailed from your ankles up your legs, causing you to press your thighs together inadvertently.

“Oh, now you wanna be shy?” he cooed, his hands reaching the bottom of your skirt.  His nimble fingers gently hooked underneath it, pulling it upwards to reveal more of you.  You bit your lip as you scooted farther down the chair so that he could get your clothing out of the way easier.  

A grin rose to his face as he tore off his blindfold to be able to see all of you.  Breath hissed through his teeth as he saw your panties and the wet spot that you had just begun to feel.  The skin of your knuckles lightened as you gripped the armrests while Satoru’s hands pushed your skirt under you so that he had a full view of your bottom half.

“You say you hate me, but this suggests otherwise,” he teased, running a finger over your clit through your panties.  You gasped, hips bucking at the sudden contact, not even bothering to answer him with a smart retort.  He pulled down your panties to your knees swiftly, the cold air exacerbated by the dampness of your center.  In a swift motion, he ducked his head under your panties, swinging your legs over his shoulders.  

The closeness of him almost sent you into cardiac arrest as his hot breath ghosted against your aching sex.  He pressed a painfully slow kiss to your clit, looping his arms around your thighs to grip the soft flesh.  You let out a whimper as your head tilted back, finally accepting that this was going to happen and you were going to have to settle with Satoru to give you the fucking you needed.  Not like you knew it was going to be settling of any type - you weren’t the first teacher to be fucked by him, and you’d heard all the stories.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice nearly sending you spiraling as they flowed over your cunt, “eyes on me.”

You looked down at him inquisitively, then watched with bated breath as his impossibly beautiful eyes glinted while he licked a stripe from your opening to your clit.

“Christ, quit being such a tease,” you breathed, tangling your fingers in his soft white hair, tugging him closer.  The warmness of his body trapped between your thighs was too much.

“Quit being so impatient,” he shot back, resisting your pulling easily.  He kissed your cilt once again, then took it into his mouth, sucking gently.  Your breath hissed between your teeth as your legs began to shake.  You weren’t even a minute and a half into this and you were unbelievably sensitive.

He released you with a satisfying pop, then decided that you had done enough waiting.  He dove face first into you, eating you with a ferocity that nearly sent the chair tumbling backwards onto the floor.  You held onto him, your breathing becoming uneven as his expert moves pushed you towards an orgasm at a rate you had never experienced before.

You watched him in wonder, heart skipping beats every time his eyes fluttered upward to see what pretty face you were making in response to his tongue.  One of your hands left his hair and settled on his hand.

“Satoru… finger me, please?” you asked meekly, blush spreading across your cheeks.  The change in your demeanor gave you whiplash, but at the sight and feeling of this man between your legs, he could change anyone’s mind.  It was embarrassing, but you’d chalk it up to the nature of man.

“You’ve never called me Satoru before,” he commented, his mouth still full of you.  “But since you asked nicely, yes.”

His arm left your thigh cold as he untangled himself from your limbs, cramming his arm into the space between him and yourself.  He licked his pointer and middle finger, eyes locked in a gaze with yours.  You couldn’t help but sink further into the couch, knowing that he was about to fingerbang you into oblivion.  With a sly smile, he gently massaged your clit with his fingers, then slid them easily inside of you, curling them up to hit your sweet spot easily.

A cry attempted to rip itself from your lips and was promptly stopped by a refusal to open your mouth.  Satoru watched you squirm as he began to rub where you needed him most, his eyes twinkling with lust.

“I’ve never seen you like this before.  Can’t say if I like it more than your usual demeanor, ‘cause it’s equally entertaining to me.”

All you managed was a whimper with a vain attempt to keep your eyes open.  He smiled against you, exhaling a puff of warm breath that made you twitch.  With a seductive narrow to his eyes, he began to eat you out once again, with more fervor than before.  You couldn’t say you were surprised given how the whole situation escalated so quickly.  But you just couldn’t control yourself.  You were so desperate, so needy, that your body had a mind of its own.  Whimpering, sweet noises fell out of your mouth with ease as you began to grind your hips on his face. 

“Did I tell you how sweet you taste?  God, it’s like candy.”  He paused for a moment to look up at you.  His lips moving around your clit was almost as good as when he focused on devouring you.  “And you know how much I love candy.”

You were surprised that someone hadn’t come in already, as you began to hear the shuffling of feet and voices as students began to enter the halls.  You tried your best to keep your moans at a minimum level, but Satoru really was a pussy-eating champ.  You couldn’t even form any kinds of responses to the comments he’d been making - you were a complete mess.

Within another two minutes he had you on the verge of an orgasm.  He noticed the lack of rhythm in you grinding on him, and intensified his game.  You were getting tired, you were getting uncoordinated.  You were oh so close.  Your eyes rolled back into your head as a moan tore through your lips, signifying your push over the edge.  His fingers plunged deeper into you, pushing harder on that magic button as he licked and sucked on your throbbing clit.

“F-fuck, Satoru!”  Another moan left your mouth as you slapped your hand over it to cover up the sound of your hookup.  He laughed against your sensitive bud of nerves, augmenting the pleasure as the waves of your climax washed over you.

“I know, I know,” he murmured as your body jerked with the throes of probably the best orgasm you ever had.  Your hand moved from your mouth to your eyes as you took a deep breath, trying to recover a slower heart rate.

Without warning, Satoru ducked under your panties and with one hand, yanked them up.  With the other, he pulled your skirt down, not bothering to make sure that everything was all neat, straight, tidy, or in the right place.  He stood up and swiftly took his seat, picking up a newspaper and sipping his coffee like nothing happened.  Combined with your lack of awareness from that orgasm and the superhuman speed of him, you didn’t understand what was going on.

“Satoru…?” you started, then heard voices outside of the door.  Your panties were still around the middle of your thighs, you didn’t have the time to adjust them before the handle twisted and a group of teachers entered.  You huffed, smoothing your hair down and leaning forward to grab your coffee.  

You gave your salutations as they crowded around the coffee pot, chattering about their own weekends as Satoru and you sat in silence.  The sexual tension buzzed like a swarm of hornets between you, and as much as you wanted to grab his hand and waddle back to your classroom to fuck him there, you knew that there would be students there already.  You would just have to wait till everyone left.  You didn’t look at Satoru, knowing that he would shoot you a wink or a smirk and would have you jumping him in front of everyone.

“What are you up to in the lounge this late in the morning?” a teacher’s voice addressing you rang out from the cluster that was beginning to disperse out of the room, to your relief.

“Taking a minute to prepare for the day.”  You didn’t exactly lie.  “Had a hell of a weekend, but I’ll tell you about it at lunch.”

She nodded, calling out to Satoru, who waved amicably.  And with that final goodbye, the rest of the teachers quickly filed out to get to their respective rooms before school started.

“Well if you wanted it to take a minute, you could’ve just said so,” Satoru joked.  

“I would think that the strongest would last longer than that,” you scoffed.

An expression that nearly made you cower in your chair crossed over his face before dissolving into that all-too-sweet smile.  As much as it scared you, it excited you.  He stood, starting to unbuckle his belt.  A wicked smile crept to his visage.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who just finished in less than five minutes.  Now are we doing this or what?”

The ball was in your court.  And he was right.  You really had no place to dog on him for his skills because he actually was good.  And if you really wanted to see how long he lasted, you’d have to call in sick until summer vacation.  

So, you rolled your eyes as you rose from your seat and turned, kneeling on it.  You braced your hands on the back of it, shaking your ass tauntingly at him as your panties fell down your thighs.  The cool air hit your heat instantly, drawing a soft breath from your lips.

“Alright then, showoff, set a record for me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Your head whipped around, cheeks heating and chest tightening at the sight of him tearing open a condom wrapper with his teeth and swiftly slipping it over that pretty, pretty cock.

“You always carry condoms with you?”

“You always deflect from a question with another question?”

“Christ, you’re the worst,” you muttered, stifling a jolt through your body when his hands pushed your skirt up over your ass.  You bit your lip to ward off a moan when he massaged the muscles and spread them to reveal your dripping center.  He whistled, lightly spanking your ass as he pressed himself between your folds, making sure it was wet enough to slide in comfortably.  

Your breath hitched at the feeling of his cock sliding against your clit.  Again and again it caught on the aching bud, your entire body seizing over and over in response.  How long was he going to take if the bell was going to ring in just a few minutes?

But you groaned when the fat tip slid in, just a delicious taste of the stretch that the rest of him would bring.  A low, guttural groan tore itself from his lips as you squeezed the tip over and over, inviting the rest of him in.  Your nails dug into the fabric of the chair as every vein of his shaft brushed against your walls until you were filled up.  And the worst part was that in this position, he couldn’t even bottom out.  Your stomach fell to acknowledge that he was that big.  For a few seconds, though, he didn’t even bother to start moving his hips.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” you snapped.  You physically didn’t have the time for his games.  You wiggled your ass slightly to get some friction, gasping when it worked, his pretty, veiny cock dragging against your walls.  You shuddered, then just barely began to fuck yourself on him.

“You haven’t started a timer for the record yet.”

“If your dick wasn’t in me right now, I’d cut it off.”

“Oh, but you’re so tight, I’m thinking you just might,” he whispered in your ear.  In a flash, his hands grabbed your waist and it was off to the races.  “Make sure to keep time, pretty girl.”

Within seconds, the impossibility of his entire cock burying within you became a reality, filling you up to the brim.  You whimpered as he snaked a hand under you, rubbing your clit to bring you closer to your high.  His other hand effectively controlled your body, pulling you back on his cock to push himself deeper over and over again.

You lost track of where your edges were, nearly dissolving into the chair as the tingling in your toes spread to your entire body.  Everything was warm and sweaty, everything was Satoru.  His chest pressed against your back as he stooped down, his hand electing to sneak inside your shirt to tweak at your nipple instead of holding your waist.  He rutted into you now, his cock impossibly deep and showing no signs of retreat.

“Satoru… ‘m close.”

“You gonna cum with me, sweetheart?”  His breathing was ragged in your ear.  You nodded, unable to form the words as he planted kisses on your neck.

The sweet touches were enough to push you over.  Without warning, an unbelievably loud moan tore through your lips as pleasure washed over you completely.  Satoru’s hand slapped over your mouth, as you had no motor capabilities to do it yourself.  His cock spasmed within you as he came in response to your walls squeezing and milking him dry.

Together you rocked, your sweaty bodies in ecstasy as you rode out your highs.  Stars swam in your vision as this orgasm was impossibly better than the last.  Glimmering lights were all that you could see for a good few seconds before Satoru pulled out at the sound of the bell signaling the move for students to make it to class before being late.  

Your eyes widened and a gasp escaped your lips at the emptiness.  He pulled up your panties and yanked down your skirt, waving away your protests at the discomfort of it.

“So you’ll remember this,” he chuckled at your waddling, trying to get used to the uncomfortable wetness between your legs.  He took off the condom and tied it off before throwing it away.   You were about to object, but you stopped, knowing that nothing you would say would convince him to throw it away elsewhere.  He grabbed his blindfold and set it deftly to its normal position. 

“Like I’ll ever forget it,” you rolled your eyes, fixing your clothes and hair to make sure that nothing was amiss before you had to face a classroom of students.   You picked up your cup of coffee, fiddling with your panties to make the cooling dampness bearable.  Just when you thought you could exist comfortably for the rest of the day, Satoru made it even more difficult.  You gave up fiddling with your clothes and found that he was waiting by the door for you.   You strode over to him.

“So, how’d I do?” he smirked.

“I didn’t take the time,” you shot back, pushing past him.  He reached over you, which of course you huffed at and he ignored, holding the door open.  You quickly set off down the hall to where your classrooms were unfortunately across the hall from each other.  It didn’t look suspicious at all that you were late… together.

As much as you hated to admit it, last night’s shitshow had already been forgotten in the wake of Satoru’s gift.  Depending on how desperate you would be in the future, this posed a beneficial relationship for you, if you could only get past the fact that he was an incessant annoyance.

“I hope you have a wonderful day,” he grinned from his door, waving.  “You’ll have to update me on how your next dates go!”

You rolled your eyes, not dignifying the comments with a response.  You strolled into the classroom, smiling at your bleary eyed students.  And just before you shut the door, ready to apologize for the wait and delve into your lesson, you heard a whisper from across the hall.

“Three minutes, twenty-seven seconds.”

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme.  do not copy and repost.

[katiekatdragon27]

you got me into aircorn godbless (derogatory. I'm now hyperfixated. THEM ..) /silly /lh

You know what that means?! I get an excuse to post these super old doodles!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA /lh

I have not been super involved in the OSC as of late, but I won't give up an opportunity to share art, whether new or old, of all my sillies.

I have a stockpile of aircorn art that I've been sitting on, I really need to share more of it. But here are some of the lighthearted ones. Like this skating doodle! (Popcorn try to remember Airy's face is made of glass challenge IMPOSSIBLE GONE DANEROUS GONE DEADLY????)

A bunch more doodles under the cut:

Some older older doodles of Popcorn's beef with Rotton Apple.

After Showvember, Popcorn and Rotten Apple dated super briefly. It was incredibly sour for the both of them. Neither of their needs were not being met, and both (but mostly Popcorn) were not pulling their weight in the relationship. When they separated, both talked very poorly about the other.

Beanie, RA's current partner, completely validates all of RA's feelings. Airy, on the other hand, is chill with Popcorn venting to him but doesn't entirely believe her side (cuz she exaggerates everything). Also, Popcorn is very flip-floppy with her views on RA, cuz on one hand he annoys the hell outta her, but she really liked his company when they were together and just kinda wants to hold onto that. She wants everything and nothing to do with him. RA just wants nothing to do with her, but she has an uncanny way or wiggling into people's lives without their knowledge.

But other than that...

AIRCORN WEDINGGGGGGG!!!!!!

Yeahhhhh in my hc they get married. Their kids are the ring bearer and the flower girl, but they're not illustrated there. And you can only imagine how fun the wedding was for the two best men (minus Clock cuz he's just happy to be there). Worst music playlist on the planet was played during it too and the food was either banging or ass lol.

Also some Rotten Apple and Beanie for the road <3

Hopefully I can draw these dudes again, but like newer. I care for all of them deeply lol. Have a good one homies 👋👋👋

[flour-is-a-spice]

I really wish we got different outfits for Connor. Markus got that sick suit and jacket he wore in the Stratford tower for about five minutes, plus his revolutionary outfit. Kara had so many outfits that slayed! Especially the one she wore at Rose’s house. Connor just gets his standard suit and his Obvious Undercover Cop fit. I wish he had a few more!

[mushroombo]

So I called up the captain: "Please bring me my wine," And he said: "We haven't had that spirit here since 1969."

Hotel California - The Eagles

close ups! my wrist hurts. I started this when I finished Turnabout Succession in the aj:aa trilogy, easily one of my most replayed cases after Farewell, My Turnabout. also, aj:aa is also the strongest main series ace attorney entry after aa1 and i wont be taking criticism. also rip quality, i refuse to use a smaller canvas sorry

in game screenshots used in the background belong to Capcom, modified by me :)

[gunsatthaphan]

they're so boyfriend coded 🥺

[pixthefuckup]

a crack taken seriously fanfic idea:

all the jocks get their own separate weird redemption arcs that never seem to intersect despite how close everything is to each other... until a giant cliche climatic moment like all of them working together to help richie after his attack or something. it causes the friend groups to merge and become one giant battalion against the lords of black.

brenda gets hers by working with holloway and somehow everytime she's relearning morals or subconsiously using magic, none of them went to visit her despite the fact that the diner would probably be pretty fucking popular bc it's good food and unlike pasqualli's, it doesn't have a reputation for giving or getting head if you take someone there.

kyle gets his by hanging out with tom houston and despite the fact that the shop room is the quietest during lunch, nobody ever comes to hangout or talk to mr. houston about a project or grading when he's in the room other than hannah who could also slightly feed into kyle's redemption

jason gets his with an internship at ccrp and getting parented by most of the team (bill is an actual dad, ted is highkey an obnoxious uncle, paul is known to babysit, charlotte is pretty caring, and sylvia seems pretty cool). this one is the one where it's cracky but slightly serious in the way where he slowly starts dropping football but still manages to bro up. there could be a bit of foreshadowing with a bromance break up and get back together because of how jason enjoys his internship more. bonus points if he somehow becomes bros with any of the other nerds in the meantime because of the internship.

stacy gets her through working with beanie's for a short stint of cash and getting a better-ish role model from emma (my god do i love a jaded adult with a better heart than they think getting thrown at a immature, naive, popular kid who believes in something extremely toxic. it is such a rare trope but i love it). despite beanie's popularity, stacy has somehow gotten the hours where the popular kids are held up by things and most of the nerds have hurried out of school.

i want either stacy's or kyle's to be the most wacky of the other jocks not noticing their morals getting better just because kyle's takes place in a room that i assume would be close to the field and mr. houston is dope to hang out with while stacy's change would be the funniest to ignore since it would be the biggest by getting rid of her superficiality, allowing her to have depth, and learning to study more

if we were going to include max in this, i'd hand him off to the nerds, but i think it's crackier that he's still an antag and we turn the langs' play on cheesy 80s movies' cliches where the nerds continue to get beaten down until one takes rule of the school by beating the other jock into submission and the other gets the girl into a play on cringy 2000s movies' cliches where the jocks and nerds have to team up against a common enemy, an even worse and meaner jock, and realize that they're more alike than they think. (grace being crazier than max would be a hard thing to slot into the plot in this case... could be either she doesn't go crazy and get corrupted by the black book or a double play on things, that even if the nerds became cool like the 2000s movies would make them to be in the ending, the hierarchy would still be just as bad)

[figthefruitfaeth]

“Yeah that whole wall is Wayne’s, won’t even let me touch the top row cause they’re ‘collectibles’ and ‘you’ll bring down half the shelf just trying to get one’,” Eddie laughs, the roof of the car humming with his memory.

“Is he wrong though?” He asks, watching as Eddie’s eyes roll up and then over to him.

“No.”

“There you go then.”

A playful slap hits his chest, and Steve groans. 

“You can take more than that, big boy,” he says, but offers the joint to him in apology.

The night eases in around them, the sky slipping from hazy blue to a shimmering black sky. The quarry is quiet, a few crickets chirping, the occasional churn of gravel of a passing car. Enough to know they aren’t alone, enough to know what exactly is with them. 

Eddie is next to him breathing slow. Not too slow, just long deep inhales, shaky little rushed things on the exhale. He hears it, feels it through the vibrations of the roof, smells it as a thick cloud of weed joins the sky. 

“What about you?” Eddie asks just as Steve is taking another drag. It’s the first thing either has said in a while, but it doesn’t feel abrupt, it doesn’t break the quiet or the quarry. 

“What about me?”

Eddie turns to him, hand under his head, dark eyes on him.

“You ever collect anything?”

Steve meets his gaze, turns away to watch the stars after a moment.

In the back of his closet, underneath the winter jackets and crammed between some textbooks he never bothered returning, is a shoebox. Small, a children’s size seven, thin cardboard soft at the edges and yellowed out tape placed neatly on each side keeping it closed.

He started going on his parent’s trips when he was five. He was old enough not to cry and embarrass anyone with a temper tantrum, young enough to still be a darling charm for his mother to stride around. The meetings were boring, the places not entirely enticing for a little kid, a lot of waiting and stiff suits he’d only ever worn to church. That didn’t particularly matter to Steve. What he cared about, were the postcards.

Every hotel lobby front desk had them. A swinging rack of glittery, gaudy pieces of paper that could be mailed off to tell your friends of where you’d been. The nicer ones tended to be a bit more understated--less of a rack and more of a neat collection row of tasteful options for their clientele to peruse--but they all had them.

Every trip, Steve carefully went through the selection and picked out two. One for Tommy, who never got to go anywhere and always liked the flashy night time views. The second he sent to himself almost like a diary. It made the trip home just as exciting, because while his parents would retire to the bedroom and the boardroom, only ever coming out for dinner, at least Steve would have something who wanted him waiting for him. 

When he was ten, his parent’s got varying degrees of promotions which sent them aboard, and had Steve stay home. An international flight for three people is too expensive, they said, and he’d be bored anyway. He didn’t really know how true the first one was, and the second he knew they hadn’t cared about before, but it was fine because he still got postcards.

This time they were from mom (sometimes signed by dad). Historic castles and glass monuments, holiday tidings in different languages and cobble stone streets. The messages were never really interesting--always just a brief summary of their plans and whether the date of their expected return had changed. Steve didn’t expect anything else, he knew who they were and what he was to them. The important thing was that they wrote, that they bought a roll of stamps to stick on, that they wanted to come back.

At fifteen, Tommy’s older brother gives him a joint, and they hole up in his basement with Carol, half of the liquor store’s snack aisle, and a copy of Airplane! His parents come home early that same night, and his dad yells at him for three hours. 

He doesn’t get another postcard. 

Steve takes another drag, letting the smoke sink into deep into himself, before letting it all go in one long breath. 

“No. Not really.”

Eddie’s still looking at him, feels his gaze like a warm hand along his face--fingers dipping into the premature crows feet and over a necklace of scars. Steve doesn’t move, doesn’t look back to meet him, cause he already knows what face he’s making--eyes wide and assessing, soft but quick sharp. The face he always makes when they stumble into baggage.

The crickets chirp, a breeze flutters through the open zipper of his jacket. It’s been a warm March, but it still bites like winter when it wants to. Steve shivers, crosses his arms over his chest, joint a flicker of flame between his fingertips. 

But before he can get too comfortable, it’s plucked from his hand. He whips his head to find Eddie taking a drag, then smothering what’s left of it on his roof.

“Hey--”

“I’ll clean it later, just--” and then Eddie’s got his hands on him, and Steve is too slow to stop him as he reconfigures them, pushing and pulling until Eddie is sitting up, Steve’s head in his lap looking up at him.

“I was really comfortable as is, ya know,” he says, but doesn’t make to move. Eddie is looking at him, but there’s a smirk on his lips, eyes a shimmering black. 

“Let’s get you one.”

“One what?”

“A collection,” he whispers, like it’s a secret. A hand cards through his hair, sending small little shivers down his spine. “Like Wayne’s mugs.”

“You want me to collect something?” 

“Yeah, why not. It’d be something for you to have, to take care of--other than me and the brats.”

If it weren’t for the conviction in his voice, the earnest expression across his face, Steve might’ve thought he was fucking with him. Or maybe had too much weed. 

“What--” Steve tries, amused if also bewildered at where this is going. “What would I even collect? That’s not a thing you can just, start.”

Eddie snorts. “I wasn’t born with tattoos, Steve-o. You could do anything--coins, baseball cards, records. Model cars would be up your alley, if a little on the nose.”

The thought of a matching coin collection with Keith makes him gag.

“No? Fair, okay. Oh, you know what? You strike me as a Beanie Baby kind of guy. Yeah.”

“Beanie Babies?” Unbelievable.

“Brownie the Bear not enough for you? We’ll get you the set don’t worry--”

“Eddie--”

“And if you’re good, I’ll see if I can swing Peanut in time for your birthday--”

“Absolutely not, no fucking way,” but Steve is giggling, and then Eddie is too, which just sets him off further, until tears are welling up, both of them gasping for breath over the stupidest thing. 

Once they finally manage to calm down, breathing easy save for the stray little laugh that escapes, Steve swallows, whispers, “I love you.”

Eddie smiles sweetly, presses a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too.”

At twenty, warm and loose between his boy and the wide arms of spring, Steve starts collecting something new.

[beanies-in-the-clouds]

I love art school because I get to do shit like this as an assignment

The assignment was to take a shot from a movie that followed the “rule of thirds” and I thought of this scene nearly immediately

Technically I bent the rules to include this (the rule was no animated films. I snapped the rule in half and ate it) but it’s my special interest and I can incorporate it wherever the fuck I want (I’m surprised my roommates aren’t sick of me yet. Even more surprised that two of them are into rise now because of me)

[ohfandomfuntime]

Writing your favorite characters into emotionally agonizing and painful scenarios:

[sillybeanies]

today's beanies: dotty and dotty ii the dalmatians

[poursomesunaonme]

living room mural

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: what could be more innocent than a home reno with your partner gojo satoru?

word count: 12k of unadulterated filth

author’s note: rewrote my debut piece on this blog :') i will never recover lmao

content/warnings: minors dni, established relationship w/ satoru; about a gazillion pet names (love, sweets, baby/babe, princess, darling, sweetheart, pretty girl), oral (fem receiving), fingering, dacryphilia, choking, teasing, a microscopic speck of angst, praising (good girl), degradation (cumslut), lots of spit, body painting (with actual paint), does that count as exhibitionism if it’s plastered on the walls, reader is blindfolded, biting, breeding kink, daddy kink, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, edging, squirting, v rough, a sprinkle of fluff, gojo antagonizing poor nanami

(we’re gonna pretend that this paint is non-toxic and won’t permanently damage skin pls ignore how down despicable i am for this concept🥺😭)

The pungent scent of fresh paint and sawdust flooded your nostrils as you rolled the first coat of paint over the primed walls.   The first stroke of beautiful white paint against the shit brown left you nearly breathless.  You wanted to sit down and marvel at this step of progress, but the satisfaction of even a single stroke had you craving the finished product.

Before you got back to work, you closed your eyes, listening to the sound of Satoru working outside.  He was sanding down the wood to build a bookshelf in the living room.  The drone of the sander starting and stopping would provide a good rhythm for your work.  A smile rose to your face as you heard him talking to himself in the same animated manner that he would use in speaking to other people.  You sighed, looking back to the wall you had to tackle.

In a frenzy, you went to work, the roller gliding over the wall with ease.  The streaks of paint turned into even blotches of beautiful white, which after countless minutes of aching-inducing labor, was a finished work of a completely white wall.  You stood back, setting down the roller.  Your fingers nimbly massaged your shoulder as you swung it around a bit to get out the cramps.

You had two more walls of white to do before you started on the last wall that you and Satoru had agreed to paint an olive green.  The accent wall also happened to have the fireplace on it, which you were going to leave for last with how tedious the work would be.  You went to the kitchen to grab a drink, deciding to make one for Satoru as well.  Admiring the wall once again, you passed through the living room and looked out the screen door, seeing him hard at work.  The sweat glistened brightly on his forehead, accentuating his face that was contorted in focus on his task.

You kicked open the door, laughing at his face brightening when he saw you with his refreshment.  He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the bottom hem of his tank top, revealing his toned abs.  You sighed, content, as he left his work to sit on the steps with you, groaning as his butt hit the cement.  He lifted the goggles that he was wearing, setting them on his forehead.  You handed him his drink wordlessly, watching his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down the water.

Together, you looked out into the yard, which was ablaze with the light of the afternoon sun.  It was the point in the day where the sun seemed to shine the brightest before the hue changed with the golden hour.  The stacks of supplies littering the grass were the only indications that the two of you were in the middle of a home renovation.  Satoru’s work station was meticulously set up in his own specific way to make his tasks easier.  You found the organized chaos endearing.

You set your cup down next to you after taking a sip, wiping the condensation of the glass off on your jeans.  Flecks of paint littered them right down to the cuffs.  Surprised, you pulled out the hem of your cami, seeing that you had also somehow gotten paint splattered on the front of it as well.  You surmised that you had made the right decision to wear clothes you didn’t care too much about.  Sighing, you picked up your glass once again, gulping down water to satiate your thirst.

“I have two more white walls to do, then it’s onto the fireplace wall,” you told him.  You leaned into him and found that the dewiness of the sweat on your arms made them nearly stick together.  He didn’t respond.  His lips were locked onto the glass as he downed the water like it would be his last drop.  You nudged him with your elbow.  You wanted to know how his work was coming along.  He finished his water with a dramatic “ahh,” setting down the empty cup next to him.

“I have a lot more wood to sand down,” he commented, gesturing to the stack he had next to his workbench.  “I did not think this through.  Do you still want a bookshelf?  I think that maybe we could do without it.”

You chuckled and rested your head on his shoulder briefly.  “Yes, ‘Toru, I want one.  But we can always just buy one from Ikea.”  You blinked innocently, yet a smirk toyed with the corners of your lips.  “But I at least thought that the best would be able to finish a simple bookshelf.  Guess I was wrong.”

You hoped that the mocking statement would injure his pride enough to spur him to finish the task.

The corners of his mouth turned into a frown, lost in thought for a moment.  Then, he jolted upwards with a newfound fervor.  You chuckled to yourself at how easily he played right along into your hands.  “I’ll finish it!”

Planting a quick kiss on your lips, he sprinted back to his work, grunting as he picked up another board and set it on the table.  The sander turned on, Satoru guiding its movements with ease, muscles rippling in the afternoon sun.  You watched for a bit, sipping your water as you watched the sweat begin to seep through through his tank with his added effort.  The sawdust that flew from the wood stuck to his skin.

After a few more minutes, your drink was finished.  You set your hands on your knees, grunting as you stood up.  You had hoped that the work wouldn’t make you too sore.  The burning spots targeted by your repetitive motions said otherwise.  Satoru noticed you taking your leave.  You waved to him, which in response, he winked, gritting his teeth as he held the sander in place.  You plucked the empty cups from the step and entered the house once again.  You set them in the kitchen, then got back to work on the next wall.

The painting was easier as you got into a steady rhythm, even switching hands on occasion when your arm started to wear out.  The work was repetitive and calming; letting out a gruff laugh, you considered switching jobs to become a painter.  It was exponentially less stressful than teaching.  With a sigh, you stood back, realizing that in your reverie, you had finished the last two walls, both of which didn’t have anything that you had to paint around, making them easy to finish without incident.

You smiled to yourself, wondering how Satoru was doing with his work.  He had been so excited when he came up with the idea (it was more your putting the idea into his head and him taking the credit for it) of building a bookshelf for you, a light tone that contributed to the peaceful atmosphere of the living room.  You knew it would be the perfect piece that you two had been looking for to complete the layout.

You sat down next to the can of green paint, prying it open and then dumping a healthy amount into the pan.  You picked up the other roller, watching as it soaked up the pretty olive hue.  Staring intently at the wall you had to tackle, the only thing you had to worry about was the fireplace, which you were still picking out a color for.  Pieces of your hair tumbled into your eyes.  You brushed them away, quickly deciding that you were going to worry about painting the wall directly next to the fireplace at the end of your work.  

Halfway thorugh the wall, you thought that being a professional painter would definitely be a viable side job, seeing as you were now working efficiently and had ascertained easy tricks to make the work seamless.  After you had finished the unblocked parts of the wall, you started at the bottom of the fireplace with a new, smaller brush, carefully tracing next to the painter’s tape.  Both sides were finished quickly enough, only leaving the top of the mantle to tackle.

The fresh paint smell had attached itself to your body, your nose not even used to it after the seeming hours you had spent applying it to the walls.  Standing on your tiptoes, you attempted to reach and stroke the paint blindly across the back edge of the mantle.  No matter where you stood, you couldn’t see over the edge, and you certainly didn’t want to use a roller and get more on there than you needed.  Sighing with frustration, you set down the brush on the pan.  You straightened up, hands on your hips, trying to figure out another way to tackle the situation.

“Only you can make painting look this good,” Satoru commented from behind you.  You whirled around, seeing him leaning against the doorframe, covered in sawdust, arms crossed over his chest.  His goggles were up against his hairline, pushing the hair up at a funny angle.  You smiled and sauntered over to him.  He whistled at your sultry approach and planted a kiss on your lips when you reached him.

“‘Toru,” you started sweetly, trailing a finger down his chest, “now that you’re here, would you be a doll for me and paint the spots above the mantle?  I can’t reach.”

He stooped down, pressing a kiss into your damp forehead.  “Of course, love.”

You clapped your hands, spinning back around and beginning a trot back to the fireplace.  Satoru kept pace with you easily with long strides.  You squealed as one of his large hands collided with your ass.  You cast a glance at him, seeing the devilish grin at the satisfying sound.

He plucked the brush from the pan, dabbling a bit to get more on the bristles.  With ease, he stood at the mantle, not even having to stand on his tiptoes to see what he was doing.  You watched with arms crossed as he set long strokes across the base.  His back muscles pulled taut and released with grace with his movements, the sparkling of his sweat glistening with the setting sun filtering in through the windows.

The sawdust sprinkled across his body began to fall off as his sweat dried, adding a certain kind of magic that only he could embody.  It was almost like special effects.  It looked like a hazy dream with the glimmer of sweat and the perfectly orange light.  He applied a few more strokes, then let his hand fall to his side, examining his work.  Once he deemed it presentable, he turned back to you with an endearing smile gracing his lips.

You quietly padded over to him, feeling like you were floating on air in the approach.  In turn, he glided over to you, eyes wandering up and down your body from under his snowy eyelashes.  You bit your lip with a cheeky smile.  His eyes narrowed reflexively like a hunter’s.  Without warning, he lunged forward, brush extended.  You squealed and tried to recoil, but your reflexes weren’t fast enough for the huge streak of paint he spread down your shirt.

You looked down at it, then back up at him.  “Satoru!”

He let out a laugh, tossing the brush to the side, not bothering to look as it clattered over the covered floors.  “Sorry, couldn’t say ‘no’ to those thoughts.”

You charged at him with your arms extended to swat playfully at him.  He grabbed your biceps with an iron grip and pulled you close to subdue you.  It worked, but not before you squirmed in his embrace, making sure his shirt was covered in paint as well.

After you had stopped moving, his grip loosened and he pulled back, examining your shirt with a mock concern.  He tugged at the hem, seeing that what was once a stripe of paint had spread to cover the whole front of your shirt during the tussle.

“Hun, I think your shirt is ruined,” he commented, corners of his mouth turning up at the sight of your indignation.  He stooped down so close that his lips were brushing your ear.  “Think you should get rid of it now.”

You decided to take his comment literally (how he intended).  You shoved him playfully, pulling it off over your head, revealing your bare chest.  His jaw dropped as he tried to croak out a response to your actions, but you beat him to the punch.

“Guess I had no choice but to take it off,” you murmured.  Your eyes flickered down to his shirt and back up to how his jaw tightened.  He took the cue, slightly fumbling with the hem, but he didn’t any move to remove it.  You took a step toward him, your heart beginning to race.  The afternoon air wasn’t nearly cold enough to make your nipples hard, but the sight of Satoru sure was.  The golden light shining through the windows made him look like an angel with the way it illuminated the dust around him and the sweat still shining on his skin.

“I think that would apply to you too, ‘Toru.”  You closed the gap with another step as you reached for the bottom of his shirt.  He continued a forward movement, pressing his whole front against you.  The friction of your nipples rubbing against his shirt ignited a heat between your legs.

“‘Mkay.”  He lifted a hand to gently stroke your cheek.  His thumb rubbed roughly against the skin before he pulled it back to show you the paint on his finger.  You swatted his hand away, forcing his attention onto you.  “Take it off then.”

A smile rose to your lips as you obliged happily, nimbly tugging his shirt up to reveal his chiseled abdomen.  The sight never failed to take your breath away.  You let your fingers skim over his muscles as you pulled his shirt up over his body.  His arms lifted gracefully to make your job easier, and after throwing it to the side, he was bare chested.

Before you could lift your eyes to meet his, his lips met yours gently.  A tiny moan escaped you at the silky softness of his.  Your hands found his arms and you gave them a satisfying squeeze.  The muscles rippled in response to your touch.  Your fingers skimmed up and down over his skin, eliciting heavy breaths from Satoru.  

After just a few moments, your fingers felt raw.  With a start, you realized that the bumps on Satoru’s skin were clumps of sawdust clumped together by sweat.  It made things difficult, as it seemed to be everywhere and was rough on your fingertips.  You started to dust him off, ignoring how the grainy flecks stuck between your fingers.

He pushed you backwards, hands beginning to wander as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip.  You opened your mouth in response, letting out another moan – this one louder than the first – as his hands wound around to your backside, giving your ass a solid squeeze, a cheek in each hand.

You opened your eyes to see his reaction at the sound you had made - the looks of which you were not in the least disappointed by.  Satoru’s eyes widened with surprise, then narrowed as his pupils blew out.  Any sense of reservation with you was gone as soon as the vibrations left your throat.  Half pushing, half carrying you, your bodies collided with the fireplace wall.

The wet paint stuck to your skin, the scent once again invading your nostrils after the sappy sweetness of Satoru’s had taken over your senses for those brief moments.  You pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving.  Satoru gave you a questioning glance before diving down to plant open mouthed kisses on your neck.  Your hands met his hair, lightly pushing him away, but he didn’t pay much attention to your efforts.

“‘Toru, t-the paint’s still wet,” you squeaked as he sucked on the skin.  He mumbled something against your neck before biting it lightly, tugging it between his teeth.  The heat between your legs blazed even more intensely at Satoru’s tunnel vision.  His passion was just too much to ignore.  A feral groan left your lips as that one action sealed the wet walls’ fate for the night.  

“Fuck it,” you sighed.  Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.  Lips collided again as he took full advantage of your abandon, wrapping you up in his arms completely.  He squeezed you tightly.  Your chest flattened against his.  His tongue was warm in your mouth.  With a low moan, his fingers looped through the belt loops of your jeans, tugging you directly to where the tent in his pants was.  A gasp passed between your mouths at the friction.

The moment seemed to spark something within him as he pulled back from your mouth.  You pouted, trying to stand on your tiptoes to reach his again.  Your fingers danced across his shoulders.  He towered over you, eyes darkened with lust.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, pulling on your loops to emphasize his words.  Your response was immediate, obeying him fully, sticking out your tongue slightly.  His hands untangled from your belt loops, ghosting over the skin of your chest up to your throat.  One hand tightened around it while the other stroked your cheek lovingly.  You blinked rapidly, waiting for him to do anything else.

It wasn’t much longer, as he had paused for a minute to gather spit in his mouth.  Pursing his lips, he parted them slightly, letting a dribble of spit through them.  Not faltering in your pose, you let it hit your tongue, watching intently as the rest of the warm liquid left his lips.  Once he had finished, he gave your throat a light squeeze.  A signal to swallow.  You obliged, taking it in full and giving him a sultry smile afterwards.

“God, you’re so hot,” he growled, your lips meeting once again.  His hands left their position and wrapped around your waist once again, pulling you closer to him.  As he pried you off the wall, your nipples perked at the cold hitting your back.  It was accompanied by the strange tightness of the paint beginning to dry on it.  

It wasn’t long before he slammed you against the far wall.  At least, you thought it was.  You were so disoriented already from Satoru’s intense onslaught of passionate kisses, but you didn’t care.  One wall was already ruined, what was the hurt in fucking up the others?

The kissing was fierce, passionate.  You both fought for dominance, though it was always Satoru who won out in the end, even when you decided to take control and pin him against the wall instead (which, in any case, you knew he enjoyed).  Over and over you turned, covering every inch of the wall with your bodies.

It seemed that Satoru shared the same mentality, as the process repeated itself again and again until you pulled back to catch your breath.  You glanced around, and a laugh escaped your lips.  Satoru sighed, following your eyeline until a guffaw left his lungs as well.  The surveillance led us to the discovery that the initial makeout had left your entire backside (ass included) covered in green paint; this in turn, with Satoru’s slamming you against the far wall, had led to your ass displayed on every inch of it.

“Well, that was something I didn’t expect to ever see on the wall of a house,” you commented, bumping into your lover.  He chuckled, planting a kiss on your temple.  His arm wrapped around your waist, the warmth of his body sending a shiver through you.

“I personally love the view.”  To emphasize his point, he grabbed your ass and squeezed it, leaving his hand covered in paint.  “I think it’s missing something, though.”

“And what’s that?”  You looked at him, seeing the usual devilish grin spread across his face.  He didn’t even have to see your face to recognize the quizzical look that you would give him when he had one of his crazy ideas.

“Well, two things.”  He held up two fingers to you like you didn’t know how to count.  “First of all, I want your bare ass there, so take off your jeans.  Second, mine isn’t there!”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the empty room.  “What are we gonna do, slather paint all over your ass and have you stamp the walls?”

“Yeah?  What else?”  His nonchalant tone drew a giggle from you.  Your eyes widened with glee, not expecting him to have been serious at all.  He turned to you, face brightening at your enthusiasm.

“Oh, this is gonna be golden!” you smirked, getting the paint roller and the pans of paint.  Together, you stripped down bare, throwing your pants in a pile where your shirts were.  Because your prints were already there, Satoru was adamant about getting painted first.  Indulging him, you knelt on the ground, prying open an extra can of paint that you had bought in the hopes of finding a use for it.  The pretty lilac color poured out into your spare paint tray.  Satoru giggled in delight as you soaked the roller and gestured for him to turn around.

“Okay, it’s gonna be cold,” you warned, not hesitating to start to roll the paint on the back of his thighs and over his ass.  He squealed like a schoolgirl, wincing at the temperature on his sensitive skin.  “Chill out!  You’ve faced worse than this, you baby.”

He didn’t say anything, but stilled his body as you put more than was needed on his skin.  After you covered him with a copious amount, you tapped on his calf.  “I think you’re good to try.”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to see!”  He ran over to the wall and leaned against it, making sure his legs were flat against it as well.  He gave you a dramatic look, crossing his arms to emphasize his mock impatience.  Lifting his arm to check his imaginary watch, he sighed.

A soft smile rose to your lips, watching his theatrics.  The golden light filtering in through the window illuminated him beautifully.  The sawdust was almost completely shaken from his skin, as was a result of your fierce kissing earlier; however, a few motes still unstuck themselves from him and drifted away, looking like little fireflies in the dazzling glow.

He sparkled like Christmas lights, standing there so nonchalantly, yet looking like a Renoir.  The shadows cast by his handsome features cut so deep against his skin, the crests and valleys of his toned muscles like a landscape you felt like you had yet to explore.  Eyes widening, you shook your head to bring yourself from your staring.

“I don’t think it would take that long for it to settle,” you told him with a knowing smile.  “Hop off and let’s see it.”

His eyes widened at the odd sensation as he pulled away from the wall.  You gasped, seeing the stamp of his ass.  You knew it was going to be hilarious, but the imprint of his ass seeming to hover over the backs of his thighs in the middle of the wall sent you into a fit of laughter.  His laughter soon followed when he saw the shapes.

Your stomach began to ache as you laid down on the ground, still in throes of giggles.  Satoru came and sat down next to you, petting your head, watching you chuckle at the scene.

“Isn’t it just a work of art?” he commented.  You rolled your eyes, sitting up and getting your own paint tray with the olive green still sitting inside of it.  You stood up, turning and gesturing to the tools.

“My turn!” you sang, swiveling your hips.  Without fail, Satoru’s hands cupped the bottom of your ass, lifting and shaking it.  You craned your neck to see him watching it jiggle in wonder.  With a sigh, you turned back around, waiting for him to roll paint onto it.  Without warning, his teeth sunk into the fleshy skin.  

“What the fuck!” you yelped, whirling around to flick him in the forehead.  His teeth flashed into a grin as he narrowly avoided your fingers, picking up the roller instead.  “God, you’re insufferable.”

“What?  I just couldn’t help myself.”  His sweet tone threatened to make your teeth rot.  While it hurt at first, the pleasure of it was beginning to hit as the irritated skin began to heat up.  You shifted uncomfortably, not exactly wanting to ask him to do it again, but wanting it all the same.

“Just paint my ass.”

“Now that’s a sentence I’d never thought I’d hear coming out of your mouth,” he snickered, not even warning you that he was going to start.  You sucked in a breath at the cool feeling on your bare skin, not wanting to show your discomfort as much as he did.  The coolness felt wonderful on the spot where he bit you.  He finished in a few seconds, the foreign sensation ceasing as quickly as it began.

You ran over to where he stamped the wall and sat against it.  The height difference made you giggle as you imagined the print of your ass barely level with his thighs.  After a few seconds, you pulled back, grimacing at the sticky sensation.  You turned around and slapped a hand over your mouth, seeing the plumpness of your ass on the wall.

“We should frame that and put it in the Louvre,” Satoru joked, coming up beside you and wrapping an arm around you.  You turned to him, pulling closer, your chests pressed against each other.  Your mouth was slightly ajar, not even wanting to say anything to him.  You were both naked, and you wanted him.

When he looked down and saw your expression, he licked his lips hungrily before your lips collided.  The kiss deepened without hesitation, with Satoru’s tongue slipping into your mouth.  His arms enveloped you easily, pulling you closer, roaming all over your bare back.  The gentle skim of his fingers sent shivers down your spine.  He tilted his head down slightly, breaking the contact of your lips enough to leave your foreheads pressed together.  Your eyes met as heavy pants passed between your lungs.

“Lay down, sweets,” he murmured, cupping your face in his hands.  You nodded and obeyed without a word, the tarp crinkling underneath you.  A low whistle escaped his lips as you spread your legs for him, the cool air hitting the heat gathered between your thighs.  He crouched down, marveling at the view before moving in closer.  As he crawled to settle between your legs, something other than the tarp crinkled.  

Your eyes widened as you looked to the source of the sound, finding that Satoru had accidentally placed his hand into the lilac paint.  You opened your mouth to protest as Satoru shrugged and proceeded to continue his approach, but he held his clean hand up to his lips.

“Let me paint you, baby,” he murmured.  You swear he could’ve slid inside then and there because his statement nearly made you gush.  His soft white hair tickled your inner thighs as he reached his journey’s end.  He looped his arms around your thighs, his left hand smearing wet paint all over your leg. 

The slippery sensation felt amazing as he squeezed and massaged them, planting kisses on the sensitive skin of your thighs that made your pussy flutter.  He sighed, hot breath tickling the needy skin, before licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit.  You moaned, arching your back at the contact.  You reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold on for dear life.  He chuckled lowly, his painted hand untangling from your leg.  He watched, beginning to suck on your clit, as his hand snaked up your body, leaving a trail of lilac paint.  

Satoru’s huge hand kneaded your tit, leaving a handprint to mark his territory.  You squirmed in his grasp, the chilly paint causing your nipples to pebble into peaks.  He pinched one as he buried his face in your pussy, picking up the pace.  Even in the haze his fervor cast upon you, the exaggerated movements of his hands smearing paint all over your torso grounded you in the moment.

You pulled him closer by the hair, moans spilling from your lips.  Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you could imagine everything that he was doing with the heightened senses that your arousal gifted you with.  His other arm unwound itself from your leg and trailed up your torso, arriving at your mouth.

“Open up, princess,” he cooed against your pussy, causing you to squirm against the vibration of his voice.  You did as you were told and he didn’t hesitate to slip his pointer and middle finger inside.  You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking obediently, swirling your tongue around his fingers to coat them with your saliva before he pulled them out.

“Good girl.”  Your eyes widened as he spread his digits apart, watching the trails of spit that webbed his fingers with a lustful gaze.  He briefly rubbed them on your clit, then swiftly plunged them into your cunt.  You cried out as he curled them upwards, finding the spot he knew so well.  He swirled them around a bit, finding a good rhythm and watching you wriggle before gracing your clit with his mouth once again.

The second he resumed his work, you could already feel yourself getting close.  You couldn’t help that each exhale was an obnoxious moan; Satoru knew your body better than you did.  The slurping sounds that came from between your legs could’ve made a nun blush as he worked his hardest to bring you to a climax.

The heat spread everywhere on your body as the complementarity of Satoru’s rhythmic fingering and incessant tonguing worked together to stimulate you.  Your legs began to shake as your eyes rolled back into your head.  Your fingers pulled harder on his hair, telling him to keep it up because you couldn’t form the words with your own mouth.

“You’re close, hm?” he purred, scissoring his fingers against your velvet walls.  You squeezed your thighs together, trapping him.

“Mmhm,” you managed to squeak out.  Without a word, he resumed his speed, your pussy throbbing against his mouth.  Pulsing muscles constricted and loosened rapidly as they sucked his fingers deeper into your cunt.  The intensifying loudness of your moans sung of the quick approach to your orgasm.

“Cum for me, darling,” he egged you on, watching in satisfaction as you unraveled before him.  You cried out, legs seizing up as the orgasm hit you like a freight train.  He continued his onslaught, mouth and hand working to keep the stimulation going, while his other hand was still massaging your breast.

The waves of pleasure began to ebb away, and the stars cleared from your vision.  You sighed happily, massaging Satoru’s scalp as he slowed his pace.  Your body jerked occasionally, still in the throes of the ebbing orgasm.  He picked his head up, planting kisses up your abdomen, settling on the breast that he hadn’t covered in paint.  His other hand remained in your cunt, still massaging your g-spot.  His thumb roved your clit in lieu of his mouth.  Your head spun as he tongued and sucked on your nipple, setting off fireworks all over your body.  

“S’toru,” you whined, “kiss me… please?”

He released your nipple with a soft pop, teeth flashing in a luminous smile.  “I love it when you beg for me,” he murmured, twisting his fingers deliciously.  The buttery smoothness of his lips brushed against yours, fueling the flames in your belly.  You melted into him, pliable as putty as he worked you into another climb up the mountain of pleasure.  

“Ngh, fuck!” you choked out as your head rolled back, gripping his shoulders.  Your moans were quickly muffled by his mouth on yours, enveloping the soft tissue and every sound that came from it.  His lips were impossibly smooth, contradicting the roughness of his fingers that rolled within you.  Satoru’s teeth bit and tugged on your bottom lip, before parting your lips with his tongue and gently sliding it inside your mouth.  His face pulled away, watching your expression contort with neediness.  The paint drying on his spare hand, he reached past your head, fumbling with his clothes.

You opened your mouth to ask what he was doing, but it quickly snapped shut when you saw his blindfold dangling from his hand.  The grin on his face was telling of what he was going to say, and you were more than eager to agree.  Before you knew it, Satoru was slipping the blindfold over your head, settling it gently over your eyes, surprisingly all while still keeping a steady rhythm massaging your g-spot.

“You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” Satoru’s voice showered down on you from his position above.  You could hear the smile in his tone at the sight of you splayed out underneath him, completely at his mercy.  The thought made you nearly gush.

“Uh-huh, ‘Toru,” you moaned sweetly, relishing in the warmth of his body on yours.  The brush of his lips on your mouth nearly made you jump out of your skin, but you soon dissolved into the contact as his tongue slid inside of your mouth.  He threatened to swallow you whole, your tongues intertwining like snakes, salia mixing sloppily.

“Can you take another, pretty girl?”  Satoru’s lips left yours and whispered the question directly into your ear.  The ghost of his breath brushed against sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.  A whimper escaped you, but you nodded, clinging to his shoulders.  He didn’t hesitate to plunge an extra finger into your cunt, letting your walls assimilate to the stretch.  He spread his fingers wide within you, eliciting a cry from your lips.

“So much,” you mumbled, the familiar feeling of the tears prickling in the bridge of your nose as you struggled to take his three fingers.  Despite your whimpering, he continued, relentlessly curling his long fingers to tickle the spot that ruined you every time.  As he continued gently pumping his digits into you, your walls assimilated to the girth.

“Helpin’ you get ready for the main show.”  The smile was evident in his voice as he planted a kiss on your open mouth, ignoring your eyebrows knitting together, ignoring the trembling of your entire body, but especially ignoring your knees weakly struggling to come together, blocked by his hips lodged between them.  

The alien chill of paint covered the skin of your throat as his hand wrapped around it, gently squeezing. Your head began to pound with each beat of your heart.  After a few more moments of his fingers dexterously massaging the soft skin of your neck, his hand traveled upwards, grabbing the sides of your face and squishing them together.

“Open up for me, darling,” he purred.  You didn’t need to see to feel brilliant blue eyes, darkened with lust, as they pierced through you.  Your mouth went dry as you forced it open.  Your tongue protruded, waiting for what you knew was to come.  His finger brushed against your cheek as he pushed the blindfold up slightly, allowing you to watch the scene that unfolded.  Without fail, Satoru stuck out his own tongue, watching lazily as the spit he gathered dropped from one mouth to another.

The fire in your belly exploded at the feral gleam in his eyes, at the renewed ferocity that he plunged his fingers into your cunt, at the tantalizing movement of his thumb on your clit.  A gurgle escaped your lips at a particularly potent movement within you that zapped like electricity throughout your veins.   Your nails dug into his skin as you fought to keep your head from spinning off.

“Uh-uh,” Satoru tsked, shaking your head back and forth easily to emphasize his words.  You hadn’t even realized that your mouth snapped shut.  “Don’t swallow yet.”

A tear slipped from your bleary eyes, rolling down your cheek.  His lips were on your face in an instant, kissing the wetness away.  Your lips trembled, along with your whole body, as Satoru’s digits wreaked havoc within your velvet walls.  The fire in your belly spread throughout your limbs, rendering you a shaking mess as your orgasm came barrelling at you.

“S’toru?” you mewled, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth.  He fixed his attention on you without words, eyes gleaming at you as they watched you struggle to string sounds together.  “Can I swallow now?”

The question must’ve sounded so silly with the amount of spit impeding your speech, but Satoru only gently kissed your forehead, his voice rumbling against you.  “Of course, princess.”

As the warm, slightly sweet liquid descended down your throat, one of your hands ceased gripping his shoulder like a lifeline and fumbled around the tarp.  You could feel his eyes looking inquisitively at you, but you ignored it as your hand found what you wanted.  The gooey viscosity of the olive paint coated your hand.  As you removed your hand from the tray, the excess paint dripped off, splattering onto the tarp.  The foreign feeling of skin through the barrier of paint met your hand as you placed it on the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer to you.

Your lips met his ear, the pungent scent of the fresh paint flooding your nose once again at the proximity.  “Can I cum, ‘Toru?  ‘M close, babe.”

With a kiss to your neck, he removed his dexterous digits.  You cried out, surprised by the empty feeling, missing the stimulation both inside and out of you.  Looking down, you saw that Satoru had simultaneously begun to line himself with your entrance.  Your eyes widened as you saw what you had been hoping for, biting your lip in excitement.  His body twisted slightly as he reached for something behind him.

“You ready?”

He already knew the answer.  A cheeky smile lit up his face, telling you everything you needed to know.  His ego needed to be stroked.  You needed to be filled.  Mutual interests.

You shoved those thoughts out of your head, filling them with your desire for Satoru and Satoru alone.  You had chosen each other, claimed the other for yourselves.  Passion filled the air around you - had already begun to seep through the walls of the house as you made it your own.

You nibbled on your lower lip, blinking your eyes like a doe.  He softened seeing your expression, leaning down lower so that the hair that cascaded down tickled your forehead.

“Yes, baby.” 

His thick cock plunged into your weeping cunt all while he wrapped his freshly painted hand around your throat.  A struggling moan left your lips as your body attempted to become accustomed to both feelings, but the overwhelming intensity of being stretched by his cock and being painted as his property sent your head spinning.

The blindfold slipped down over your eyes once again at Satoru’s slow but powerful thrusts, leaving you dazed.  The tarp beneath you crinkled loudly at your movements, but you paid it no mind.  His pace halted for a second, then resumed as his other hand joined in on the Pollock that was your body.  His other hand remained gripping your throat as the freshly coated member roamed your body, coating it in the beautiful lilac paint.

You fumbled blindly for your paint tray, your wandering hands finally finding purchase once you gripped the plastic.  You pulled it closer to yourself and plunged your hands into the cool liquid, not caring that paint was dripping everywhere - down your arms, onto the tarp.  They slunk over Satoru’s body, coating him in the beautiful olive hue.  As much as you wanted to see the art you were making, you also loved that it would be a surprise when he let you take off the blindfold.

The tip of Satoru’s dick knocked against your cervix as he picked up his pace, his cock beginning to twitch within you.  You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, holding him closer to you.  He tweaked your nipples, face buried in the crook of your neck as your neediness brought him closer to his high.  You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoisting yourself up off the ground for him to get a better angle.

“Ah, fuck,” he panted into the sensitive skin of your neck, “you’re killin��� me, babe.”

You only smiled, tilting your head back at the way his hips rutted against yours, at the way he rubbed against your clit so deliciously, at the way his balls slapped against the crease of your ass, dripping with the juices that flowed from you.  His tip nuzzled so perfectly inside that it brought tears to your eyes.  Your walls had stretched to accommodate his huge length, squeezing him so nicely.

The coil in your center needed to be unraveled.  Moans poured from your lips as you used the leverage you had wrapped around him to feebly fuck him back, eliciting a string of curses falling from his mouth.  Your tongues intertwined sloppily, ministrations pouring from mouth to mouth as you both approached your high.

“C-cum with me?” you panted against Satoru’s moist mouth.  He only managed to get out a grunt as you felt him jump inside you once again.  He fucked you hard and fast, breath nearly flaming in your mouth.  Your wet hands roamed all over his body, quickly followed by your nails digging into his soft skin as fireworks exploded within you.  Without warning, your orgasm hit harder than you expected, eliciting an obnoxious moan from your lungs as you held him impossibly close, squeezed him impossibly tighter.

That was all he needed as he came inside you, shuddering breath spewing against the soft skin of your chest as he planted open mouthed kisses against the unpainted inches of your breasts (at least, you hoped that he wasn’t ingesting paint).  Your walls continued to contract, milking him dry as you felt him spilling in you, opting to paint your inner walls instead of the living room.

Your body convulsed with the power of the orgasm, your legs falling limp to the tarp, unable to hold themselves up anymore.  His dick slipped out of you as your ass hit the ground, the empty feeling drawing a cry from your lips.  You lay there, panting, feeling his cum leak out of you.

Satoru nestled into you, weighing on you like a security blanket, as you both recovered from your highs.  Your fingers tangled in his hair, relishing in the movement of his chest against yours, nothing separating you as you lay tangled on the floor of your living room, in your house, in the new chapter of your lives beginning.  You pressed a kiss into his hair, letting out a content sigh.

You wanted to stay like this forever.  To remain in the arms of your lover, on the floor of the living room in your new home.  To freeze this moment where he was all yours, when his mind was only on you, on you both, and nothing else.  You knew that eventually you would both go back to work, he would go on amazing and dangerous missions, and you would be left alone in the empty house, waiting for him to come back.  But, at least you would have this memory - you would know that you were his and he was yours.

“Let’s go on a field trip!” Satoru giggled, jolting you from your peaceful reverie.  Your hands flew to coat themselves in paint, as you knew that he was moving you away from the tray - and you wanted to continue with your game.  His arms wrapped you up and lifted you.  Your nipples perked at the cool air on your back.  Paint and cum dripped off your body as you wrapped your legs around his torso, squeaking at the slightest brush of his abs against your clit.  In no time, you hit a wall.  Satoru’s hands were on your ass in an instant, lowering you to sink down onto his dick.

A cry escaped your lips as you felt like being split in two all over again, your cum leaking all over him from your last orgasm.  A shudder rocked through your body as a breath hissed out of you.  Nails burrowed into skin feebly to counteract the pain of his girth stretching you.

His fingers dug into the supple flesh of your ass, painting it with his lilac liquid as he easily suspended you against the wall.  You felt the damp paint begin to streak across the wall as he bounced you up and down on his cock, his face buried in your neck, gently kissing and biting the sensitive skin.

The prickly feeling of tears in your nose rose to a peak as your clit dragged against his front.  Swollen from overstimulation, it throbbed weakly, your cunt weeping at the painful pleasure.  Tears began to stain the blindfold as they fell from your eyes, just barely leaking out from underneath to streak down your cheeks.  You sniffled, clinging to Satoru’s broad shoulders.

At the sound, a chill hit your neck as Satoru removed his face.  His lips were pressing to your cheeks instantly, kissing the tears away once again.  Warmth spread all over your body, being wrapped up in the arms of the sun itself.

“Oh, princess,” he muttered, still peppering kisses over your face even though the tears were gone.  “Don’t cry!  Look how well you’re taking my cock.  You’re being so, so good for me.”

You mustered up a smile at his praises as his lips collided with yours once again.  Pressing your back against the wall, you angled your body so that you were able to grind in circles on him.  The overstimulation zapped within you every few strokes, but it was beginning to ebb away at the rising crest of pleasure.

“Fuck, just like that, baby,” Satoru groaned, beginning to rut into you faster.  By now, all of his cum had leaked out of you, splattering distastefully onto the floor.  He seemed to notice the sound at the same time you did, as it fueled him further.

“Maybe that attempt might not’ve gotten you pregnant,” he hissed into your ear, self control beginning to dissipate.  “Maybe I should fuck another baby into you, hm?”

“Uh-huh,” was all you managed to force out at the ferocity in which he began railing into you.  His energy never failed to amaze you, and never failed to pleasure you.  One of your hands flew to the wall to steady yourself, smearing paint all over it in the process.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s see you pumped full of cum again, baby.  Is that what you want?  Want me to cum in you again?”

His actions were nothing short of animalistic as he pushed, pressed, pinched every inch of your body, beginning to nip at the skin of your neck as he began to lose control.  Your feeble mind could barely keep up with his physical and spoken output.  Your eyes squeezed shut under the blindfold, then opened, seeing nothing.

“Yes, please, ‘Toru.”  Your breathing came in gasps as your high drew nearer.  You could see stars in the corner of your vision as the coil in your belly threatened to unravel, spilling honey from your sex at every thrust.

“Please what?”  The teasing tone of his voice was a poor cover up at the desire for you to satisfy him, to play into his fantasy that he wanted - no, needed - to make a reality.

“Please - ngh!” you couldn’t finish the sentence.  Your mind was fogging up, halting all mental processes.  All you could think about was his cock drilling into you, your walls weakly squeezing to keep up with his pace.  His lips pressed against your chest, tasting the salt that covered your skin.

“Say it, baby.”  The softness of his voice soothingly flowed over your ears, gently caressed you and carried you to the precipice of your orgasm.  You drew a deep breath, forcing your brain to put together sounds.

“Please… let me make you a daddy!”

The words tumbled from your lips like prayers, falling on the ears of a sympathetic god, who showed mercy by pounding into your sopping pussy.  Your lover, althought he was the one who physically dominated you, was easily emotionally bent to your will like a spring sapling.  His pace faltered slightly, then picked up with a new vigor as he processed your request.

“Oh, that… that’s my girl!” he forced out, cock twitching uncontrollably within you.  One of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you up, while the other reached to grab your throat.  At the stimulation of the sensitive skin, he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm.  You came together for the second time, mixing his seed with your juices once again as they both ran down your thighs, spilling onto his cock.

The cries that came from your lips could’ve made the neighbors call the cops.  You clung to each other, suspended in a mindblowing orgasm, his hips erratically slapping against yours.  Hot breath mixed between your mouths as your lips collided, soft moans expelled between the both of them.  You were so close - your breaths were mixing, you couldn’t tell where his body ended and yours began, you were truly one.

“I love dragging you around like my little braindead cumslut,” Satoru whispered into your ear.  Your eyebrows furrowed at his unprovoked statement, but you couldn’t help that his words made your walls clench around him.

All of a sudden, his arms disappeared, and you were supported by nothing.  Struggling to find your bearings, being blindfolded, you flailed wildly.  Satoru’s laughter drew a smile from your own lips as he caught you again and set you down, letting you find your footing.  

You wanted to slap at him for teasing you, but your brain was still recovering, still searching your other senses to make sense of your reality.  Before you could string two thoughts together, his hand was on the small of your back, guiding you a few paces away.  Without warning, he pushed you over, sending you slamming nearly face first into a wall.

“Fuck!  ‘Toru, that hurt!”  Your whines fell on deaf ears as he spread your ass, whistling at the sight of the cum dripping down between your thighs.  Your hands flew to brace yourself on the wall as he began ramming into you once again, slipping in without incident.  His hands slid down your arms, coating them in paint.  They finally found purchase as they reached your hands, intertwining with your fingers and raising them far up over your head.

As much as you struggled against him, you were powerless to tear your hands from his grasp.  His cock slid in and out of you seamlessly, coated with the results of… how many orgasms?  Five?  You didn’t know, you lost count.  Satoru peppered your shoulders, the grooved blades of your back, the nape of your neck, with kisses, eliciting soft moans from your mouth in opposition to the jarring ones that occurred if he thrusted into you, hitting a certain point that made your body twitch.

His hands released yours and they fell to your eye level, resuming their position in holding you up against the wall.  Right after you had righted yourself, had steady footing, was about to fuck him back, he surprised you with slaps to your ass.  The paint dulled them, the wet slapping sound echoing throughout the living room.

You turned to look at him, sneakily pushing up the blindfold with a free hand, to take in the sight, watching as he, tongue sticking out of his lips in focus, reared back, hand dripping with paint.  The cold sting of his palm met the sensitive skin of your ass as he cocked his arm back for another hit in quick succession, almost making a drumbeat of spanking your ass.  The movement was carefree, as if he was swatting an annoying bug away from him.

Paint covered his front, the lilac and olive and white all mixing together to make a swirl of beauty.  It mesmerized you, the way it clung to his body, emphasizing and complimenting his stunning figure, the valleys of his abdominals, the rugged landscape of his muscles.

You turned back to the wall, the blindfold slipping over your eyes once again.  They squeezed shut as he ceased, obviously pleased with how the lilac paint melted in with the redness of the plowed skin.  He grabbed your ass in his ginormous hands, gently massaging it, spreading and closing it, using the cheeks in ways that took both he and you to new heights of pleasure.  

“Definitely think,” he panted, lips against your ear, “that we need to frame your ass.”

Before you could even open your mouth to answer, your hands were in his once again, but he twisted your arms around to your back.  He looped an arm through yours, settling the lock at the crooks of your elbows, decommissioning your movements once again.  Your hands opened and snapped shut, grasping as nothing as his thrusts intensified.

His other hand, still damp with paint, roamed over your breasts, massaging and pinching the bare skin.  They had been previously coated, but knowing how meticulous Satoru could be, he made sure they were absolutely slathered in copious amounts of his paint.

He pressed you into the wall again, and you felt the paint stick to the surface in the shape of your breasts.  Your cheeks flamed at the thought of your entire body painted across the living room walls.  But you knew that Satoru loved it, that he would be drooling over it until you decided to paint over the walls and adjust the hues to match the aesthetic that you were aiming for.

With his free hand finished with creating art out of your breasts, it traveled north, finding purchase around your neck like a piece of jewelry you’d always worn.  He squeezed lightly and tilted your head back, just barely restricting your airway enough for your breath to come in rasps.

“Open up, darling.”

Like a robot, your jaw dropped and your tongue shot out, waiting for the familiar feeling of his spit.  He didn’t leave you waiting long, as almost as soon as you obeyed him, his saliva was dribbling down onto your taste buds.  You smiled lightly at the feeling, loving the fact that you could share this moment and label it as intimate.

“Swallow.”

Your pussy fluttered around his length, eager to obey.  A sigh escaped his lips as he watched your throat bob with the odd angle that it was working against.  He planted a sweet kiss to your lips, his nose brushing against your chin.  The contact was lost, then found again as he nuzzled his face against your neck for a moment, before pulling away again.

“Open.”  His command seemed desperate, like it was the only thing keeping him from stepping off a ledge.  As much as you wanted to make fun of his theatrics, your mouth snapped open, eager to have another part of him in you.  He wasted no time, coating your tongue with his saliva.

“Now wait.”

The only thing you could do was whine as your jaw began to ache from holding your mouth open for so long.  He released his hold on your throat, but in true Gojo fashion, wasted no time in executing his next movement.  He swiftly looped an arm under your left leg, pulling it upwards until you felt like your hips would split in half.  You squealed in discomfort, drool spilling from the corners of your lips, your body being bent a million different ways.  For the first time in the afternoon, Satoru relented, releasing your arms.

Your hands tangled in his hair as he bit into the soft skin of your neck, of your shoulders, back pressed against his chest.  His dick, at this new angle, hit your sweet spot more perfect than before, if that was even possible.  He went deeper, you squeezed him tighter, you were closer.

He thrusted into you, the tempo threatening to cast you into nothingness.  With each movement you were pressed harder and harder into the wall, the paint sticking to the surface.  It ached to pull you in, to suck you into the wall, to the white paint that was still drying, now mixing with the two hues that Satoru and you decorated each other with.

“One more, baby,” he cooed against the flaming skin of your shoulder.  “L-lemme cum… one more time… in you.”

“Anytime, ‘Toru,” you teased, but the playful lilt in your voice was lost as he didn’t hesitate to shoot inside of you.  You squealed at the way his cock jumped in you, knocking against the spot that was your downfall.  His balls slapped against your clit, shoving you over the edge of an orgasm you didn’t know you were approaching.

You toes curled and cracked at the force in which the crest of pleasure hit you.  Your legs gave way and you lost control of yourself for a moment, the drool you had been holding in your mouth spilling like a waterfall over your bruised lips.  Satoru was quick to catch you, laughing at your frailty, which for once, you didn’t mind.

His lips were on your face, kissing and licking away the spit that had escaped the trap of your mouth.  He supported you in a way you didn’t think you’d ever need, but surprisingly, you didn’t mind relying on someone for help.  A warmness spread in your chest at the affirmation that you truly loved him - you loved him enough to not complain at him holding your drool-soaked and cumstained body limp in his arms.

“God, you are just so full of cum, aren’t you, baby?” Satoru purred into your hair, stroking it gently.  You could only muster a weak “mmhm,” your body still shaking from the overstimulation and the last orgasm he unleashed on you.  “Well, are you gonna let me taste?”

You didn’t have time to answer before he scooped you up in his arms, giving you the vivid sensation of flying.  A coolness met your ass as he set you down on what you could only assume was the mantle of the fireplace.  He spread your legs apart, ignoring the fact that they attempted to squeeze together to protect your weeping cunt from being stimulated further.

“S-satoru,” you winced, “I’m sensitive!”

It was no matter to him, however.  He pulled your bottom slightly forward, so that your ass was teetering on the edge of the tile, giving him better access to your aching center.  A loud cry escaped your lips as he gave your swollen clit a few soft licks.

You whimpered, your thighs trembling around him as he sucked on your impossibly sensitive bud.  Your hands tangled in his hair, the gummy paint clinging to it and clumping it together.  After a few more moments of relentless stimulation, he seemed to ease up, giving way to softer movements against your weeping cunt.

“You should see yourself,” Satoru muttered against you.  “Sitting like a queen.”

Perched like royalty on the furnishing that had given you enough trouble to start this whole session in the first place.  You chuckled at the thought of it, at the sight of your past selves wrestling to coat each other in paint what seemed like days ago.  It was fitting to end your love making where it began, fitting to christen your house to be yours.

“Hah,” you breathed, “I can only imagine the sight.”

A sigh escaped his lips, the hot breath on your sensitive center making your legs twinge.  His hands gently squeezed your thighs, each press planting flowers across your skin.  The soft tufts of his hair tickled the inside of your legs as he nuzzled impossibly closer to your cunt.

“Spit in my mouth.”  His request couldn’t have been more foreign, but you tried your best anyway.  You leaned over, assuming that your trajectory would be right, or that he would make it work.  Gathering the saliva in your mouth, you let it fall from your lips.  A chuckle came from beneath you, so you assumed your aim was okay.

Your mixed spit was spewed from Satoru’s mouth as he spit it onto your already dripping cunt, the liquid leaking down between your asscheeks.  You gasped at the sensation, beginning to lose feeling in your toes as another orgasm approached.  Your eyes shut tight, but even with the blindfold, fireworks still exploded in your vision.

You were definitely not going to be able to walk for a few days.

The thought drew a bitter laugh from your lips that was quickly cut short by Satoru’s dexterous tongue flicking across your clit.  Your teeth sunk so deep into your bottom lip that the skin threatened to tear.  At his relentless pace, your muscles pulled impossibly tense, taut, as you sat, rigid, teeth bared as ungodly sounds poured from your mouth.

And then, he would soften.  Pull back and kiss and lick the inside of your thighs, place love bites, suckle on the warm skin to leave marks you would marvel at for days.  He’d massage the tender skin, draw patterns with the remaining paint.  He’d study you like a scholar, memorizing the view of your exposed throat as your head tilted back, mouth open as moans spilled forth.

It was a cycle that he continued, pressing you further to your orgasm, then relenting to give you a break.  Over and over again, never stopping, like you were the shore and he was the tide, pressing in and pulling away, constant, always present.

After what seemed like hours of edging, you were finally on the precipice of what you actually hoped was your last orgasm.  Your body couldn’t take much more, as you probably would stroke out or something else that was equally disastrous, but it would be something that would elicit an awkward urgent care visit.

“Satoru…” you whispered, not even needing to finish your sentence.

“One more time, love.  Cum for me.”

The affirmation was all you needed before you gushed all over his face.  His gasp of surprise was cut short as he dove right back in, ignoring the waterworks.  Your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm, sending your hands flying everywhere - into his hair, gripping the mantle, smearing paint all over the wall behind you.

But nothing was enough to ground you as you cut the tether and drifted off into space.  Your body floated, suspended at the force of this orgasm.  You could barely feel Satoru’s warmth between your legs as the buzzing took over your entire body, your skin flaming with pleasure as you feebly grinded on his tongue.

Your pussy throbbed, achingly swollen at the multiple orgasms Satoru had guided you to.  As this last one ebbed, he wrapped his arms tenderly around you, lifting you from the throne he had placed you on.  He planted kisses on your head, on your forehead, on your cheeks as he carried you bridal style across the room, then gently plopped down on the ground.

You remained nestled between his legs, your fingers intertwined as you sat together, relishing in the closeness of each other.  His mind-numbingly warm skin was pressed against yours, sending sparks firing off all across your body.  After a few more moments of blissful silence, Satoru cleared his throat.

“Are you ready for the grand reveal?”  His smile broke through the phrase like a sunbeam.  You nodded, not feeling like using your voice.  His dexterous fingers hooked under the blindfold as you shut your eyes tight, not wanting to hurt your eyes by immediately exposing them to the light.

After a few more moments, your eyes creaked open, blinking to clear away the crusty remains of tears and to focus on the sight that presented itself to you.  The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the world cast into an eerie twilight that was simply magical.  It was the perfect lighting to behold the mural that you created in your living room.

Streaks of paint covered the walls, most of them completely indiscernible as to what part of the body they were made by, except for a few, such as your ass prints and the plumpness of your breasts.  Heat rose to your cheeks at the sight of such an abstract portrayal of art, and how breathtakingly beautiful it was.  You sunk further into Satoru, insanely grateful at his stupid antics and what they spiraled into.

“I guess I have to restart my paint job, huh?” you nudged him with your elbow, the gooey, sweaty skin sticking together.  You tilted your head up, observing his reaction.  Satoru furrowed his brows, his hair falling into his face in green clumps.

“I don’t know…” he trailed off, flashing an award-winning smile.  “I kinda like it!”

He was right.  The messy pieces of your love were growing on you as you studied them further.  It was pure art, pure passion, splayed across the walls of your home.  The handprints, clinging to nothingness in the hopes of being steadied.  The smears, results of loving and pleasurable thrusts.  The asscheeks, of course, the lovers who facilitated the beautiful creation.

A calm settled on you like nothing you had ever felt before.  A sense of security folded in around you as you lay in your lover’s arms, proudly surveying what you had made together.  You closed your eyes in bliss, relishing in the warmth and peace.

Wait…

Your heart fell to your ass at an intrusive, yet irrevocably important fact.  Eyes widening, you shot up, ignoring the chills that spread throughout your body in the absence of Satoru’s warm skin pressed against you.

“Shit!” you gasped, the detail that you had glossed over for the entire afternoon expanding to take up the entirety of your mind.  “Kento’ll be here in an hour.”

Satoru laughed at your scrambling to pick up your clothes and throw them in a basket, trying your best to tidy up the living room.  You put the paint together in a neat fashion; you smoothed the tarp, ignoring the imprints of your bodies and the paint smears that littered it; you also did your best to avert your gaze from the numerous pools of cum that were scattered across the floor.  Your eyes widened in horror at the thing that you were just marveling at - the one thing you couldn’t hide from your best friend.

The living room walls, like a subdued pornographic mural, stared back at you.  The tarp crackled as your lover stood.  You looked at Satoru, your eyes big as saucers.  He smiled gently, taking your hands in his and pulling you closer to him, placing them on his chest.  

“There’s nothing we can do to fix it, so let’s just get cleaned up, alright?”  His arms wrapped around you, snuggling you to his chest.  You sighed, turning your head to the side to hear his heart thumping.  He planted a kiss on the top of your head.

“Okay,” you murmured, then peered up at him with a devilish grin, “but only if you join me.”

“That was implied!”

Once you had gone for another round and managed to scrape the paint off of your bodies, you were ready for the dinner that Kento was bringing.  Earlier that day, he had offered to bring you food to celebrate the end of the first day of home renovation - which you eagerly accepted.  Pizza was easy to clean up, and a viable way to recharge, so that was an easy decision to make.

A knock on the door sounded as soon as you were making your way down the stairs.  Satoru took off in a sprint, reaching the front door in just a few strides.  He threw it open, spreading his arms wide for a hug.  You hung back, trying to avert your gaze from your living room mural.

“Nanamin!” he yelled, embracing his friend despite the boxes of pizzas he was carrying.  Kento’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to keep his balance at Satoru’s enthused greeting.

“Careful, Gojo!” the tall man growled, pushing Satoru away to keep the boxes from tumbling all across your porch.  You laughed at their interaction, catching up to them and taking the boxes from Kento.

“How are you?” he asked, silently thanking you for taking his burden, but ignoring the fact that you left him with a bigger one instead.  A playful smile toyed with your lips as a strand of wet hair fell into your face.

“Tired, but glad to have one day down,” you admitted, turning and leading the way to the kitchen.  Satoru tsked as you set down the boxes of pizza on the kitchen table.  You whirled around to face him, setting your hands on your hips.

“Now, darling,” he began, voice chiding, as if speaking to a child, “you know you aren’t supposed to eat in the kitchen until the renovations are finished.”

Your heart fell into your stomach when you saw the expression on Satoru’s face.  He was an absolute menace, looking to antagonize you in any way he could; however, you thought this ploy was geared more towards Kento’s discomfort.  You gritted your teeth and decided to do your best to gear the conversation in a way that you wouldn’t have to expose your deeds.  Blinking innocently, you fixed your mouth into a smile, trying not to look pained.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Kento agreed, walking to the table to grab the boxes of pizza, not knowing that he was playing directly into Satoru’s sick idea of a joke, “I actually heard that’s bad luck.”

You wanted to slap your palm into your forehead.  As smart as Nanami was, he was almost always stroking Gojo’s ego whether he knew it, liked it, or not.  You fired a glance at Satoru, pleading for him to not go through with this antagonizing, but he ignored you.

“Bad luck!” Satoru gasped dramatically, eyes widening as he wiggled his brows at you.  A sigh escaped your lips as you cast him a warning glare instead.  This, also, was a fruitless effort.  Satoru was dead set on torturing his best friend.

“So where the hell are we supposed to eat?” you shot at Satoru, not even bothering to look at him anymore as you shuffled towards the two towering men.  Your grip had tightened, your nails digging into your palms. 

“Uh, I dunno, the living room?”

“Satoru…”  The tone in your voice would make a child cry.  You trotted to the cabinet to scoop up paper plates and napkins to intercept him before he made another move to expose your afternoon.  

“No, I wanna see it!” Nanami insisted, picking up the pizza boxes.  The doors slammed shut behind you as you whirled around, seeing Satoru’s sly glance.  You wanted to wipe the smile off his face.  “Didn’t you say you were gonna paint it today?”

Satoru gently led him to the living room.  You tried to catch up with them, but the tall men had long strides. Your head was screaming for him to stop, but you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself and make matters worse.

“Yes but-“

You were too late; Kento and Satoru had already entered the living room.  The boxes of pizza clattered to the floor as Nanami ripped off his glasses, eyes widening in horror at the sight of your bodies sloppily painted on the wall.

“What in the fuck happened here?!”

© all work belongs to poursomesunaonme. do not copy and repost.

[beanieable]

Day 5 - Leo from TMNT 2012 and my ROTTMNT OC Tao

Stupid with Love - ao3