#I am giving ample warning

[flameof]

Okay, Gundam SEED Freedom has completely taken over my brain for the past 24 hours. I ABSOLUTELY MUST GUSH LORE AND PUT IT DOWN SOMEWHERE.

Naturally, there will be major spoilers for Freedom below the cutoff. If you don't want to be spoiled, then TURN BACK NOW, PLEASE.

Okay, we good? Good.

First the lore: A major theme throughout quite honestly the entire SEED series is that of Destiny. Rau le Creuset believed it was humanities destiny to destroy itself, Gilbert Durandal believed humanity would be happiest if their destiny was determined by genetics, and Foundation, the nation introduced in Freedom, follows in Durandal's footsteps, only to a more violet degree.

The main thing that differs Foundation from Durandal is the existence of Accords; basically Ultimate Coordinator MK2. At some point between Ulen Hibiki's initial experiments that created both Kira Yamato and Rau le Creuset, and Durandal being a part of whatever it was when he devised the Destiny Plan (as well as whatever created Rey za Burrel), two particular individuals were a part of the overall scheme. These two were Aura Maha Khyber (the blonde loli), and Lacus' mother.

That's right. Lacus Clyne is an Accord. She, alongside Orphee Lam Tao (blonde dude), were designed with the express purpose of running the Destiny Plan as a couple. Arranged marriage between Coordinators is no big surprise, let's be real. Hell, Lacus was probably genetically coded to be attracted to Orphee, shown in the movie by certain scenes (not show how else to describe them).

But, as you might guess (or know, if you've seen the movie), Lacus still chooses Kira over Orphee. Why? Well, time for some theorycrafting.

It's my believe that the main message of Freedom is one of Nature VS Nurture. Who we are genetically vs Who we are, raised by our environment.

Kira Yamato is a First Generation Ultimate Coordinator, so while he's outstanding compared to normal Coordinators, he pales in comparison to the Accords. But, Kira always said he was more than just the byproduct of Ulen Hibiki's hubris. More than a child of Ulen, he is a Yamato; raised and nurtured by Caridad and Hamura Yamato, after being entrusted to them by Via Hibiki, his mother by blood. Kira's kindness may very well be engrained into his DNA, but it was something he was taught to value by the Yamato's. He could have easily become conceited, like so many other Coordinators, but he didn't.

Just the same, Lacus Clyne, as far as we knew up to Destiny, was raised by the late Siegel Clyne, who almost certainly taught her to value people based on who they are, not what they represent. She can be cunning underneath her cheerful exterior in her youth, but she gravitated towards Kira because he was Kira Yamato; the kind boy who stuck his neck out for a stranger.

A wise dragon once said: Destiny is little more than the sum of our choices. I feel this quote perfectly encapsulates the core of SEED as a whole, not just Freedom. Destiny shouldn't be something chosen for you; it should be something you yourself choose. And in the end, Lacus chose Kira. A common theme in Freedom was the idea of 'Loving someone because you need them', which Lacus herself refutes with "You don't love someone because you need them; You need them, because you love them". Its a sentiment that Kira actually shares, when the woman holding Lacus at knife point threatens to cut our her tongue, or gouge her eyes out, and see if Kira still loves her then, Kira's immediate response... is of course I'd still love her; she's Lacus.

The Destiny Plan, laid out by Durandal, and worked on by so many, like Aura and Lacus's mother, was (ha ha) destined to fail, and I believe it all comes back to the choices two parents, unrelated to each other, made for the sake of their children. Because Via Hibiki got Kira and Cagalli to the Yamato's and Athha's, and all because Siegel Clyne taught Lacus to value the kindness of a stranger, over the power of your destiny.

Funnily enough, I'm remembering a line Kuzzey says back in SEED, about just how much work went into making Lacus's voice the way it is. Turns out; a lot.

It also makes me wonder if Meer Campbell was something of a backup plan, since she sounds identical to Lacus.

Okay, gushing about the new lore done. Now, let's talk about the awesome.

First off: The Immortal Justice is a Shinn Asuka suit, not an Athrun Zala suit. I don't make the rules, but Athrun never sat his ass down in the Immortal Justice.

Next, Agnes Giebenrath can literally be described as 'Coordinator Flay Allster', and I appreciate her for that.

Then, there's all the callbacks to other characters that had passed away, specifically Nicol and Natarle. Those two had complete maneuvers and tactics named after them. They're gone, but never forgotten.

As I mentioned in my last SEED Freedom post, Athrun did stuff with the Z'Gok that would make Char envious. The way Athrun handled that machine made me think he was Master Asia, Undefeated of the East.

Next, as we all well know by now, the way Athrun managed to get one up on the Black Knights' ability to read his mind; by thinking about having sex with Cagalli.

Next! Once more Mu La Flaga proves himself to be the man who does the impossible... by face-tanking FREAKING REQUIEM WITH THE AKATSUKI! Man practically said he had to stop doing that.

Then, there's the new warship, Millennium. Not only is it state of the art, but Murrue, once she starts captaining it, gets her own assault deck where she controls FREAKING GUNBARRELS! The Millennium is a warship sized Moebius Zero!

Finally, for the last thing I want to gush about: Shinn Asuka. Just... all of him. From the fact that he's calmer, earnest, stands up for Kira, drinks his 'respect' juice, and at the end, when he gets the Destiny Gundam back, he faces off against four of the Black Knights, and kicks their asses... WITHOUT TAKING MAJOR DAMAGE. Not only that, but STELLA LOUSSIER makes a comeback, proving definitively that Shinn Asuka is the Kamille Bidan of the CE era, by protecting Shinn's mind from being probed by the Black Knights, freaking them out by going all nightmare on their asses (which is probably just a representation of them being scared by just how much darkness is in his heart), and then immediately followed by him putting the F91 to shame and using the much meme'd about afterimages to kick ass and take names. Shinn may have lost to them before, but only because he wasn't using the machine literally built for him. Also, before I forget, when Shinn went SEED mode during that same battle, the Black Knights couldn't read his mind. Shinn's instincts are just that good.

Okay. I'm done. I've gushed all I can.

[itstherisingdaylight]

chapter 22 of my fic will be posted tomorrow and i need y'all to pay attention to the seventh additional tag on my fic. (screenshot of said tag under cut)

[jyeoulzhu]

baby you so fine

summary . when wonyoung turns u on by wearing your shirt

pairing . jang wonyoung x male reader

warnings . 18+ minors dni, pure smut, weird kink

i'm lounging on the couch, half-asleep, when the sound of soft footsteps pulls me from my daze. i look up to see wonyoung padding into the living room - and my jaw nearly drops to the floor at the sight of her.

she's wearing nothing but my button-up shirt - the one i wore to work yesterday. it's way too big on her tiny frame, the sleeves hanging down past her fingers and the hem hitting her mid-thigh. the shirt is unbuttoned, giving me tantalizing glimpses of her smooth skin and ample cleavage with every step.

wonyoung looks at me from under her long lashes, a coy smile playing on her lips. "hi y/n," she purrs, her voice low and inviting.

"h-hello," i stammer, sitting up straighter and trying to play it cool. but my eyes are glued to her almost-naked form, drinking in every dip and curve. "you look... different."

wonyoung does a little twirl, the shirt flaring out around her. "you like?" she asks innocently, though there's a mischievous glint in her eye.

i nod slowly, my mouth suddenly dry. "i do," i manage to get out. "but uh, what's the occasion? not that i'm complaining..."

wonyoung slinks closer, her hips swaying hypnotically. "no occasion," she murmurs, climbing onto the couch and straddling my lap. "i just wanted to see your reaction to me wearing your shirt."

"fuck, wonyoung," i groan, my hands flying to her bare thighs. her skin is warm and soft beneath my palms. "you're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

wonyoung giggles, grinding down against the growing bulge in my pants. "maybe i am," she teases. "but first i want to feel you inside me."

she leans down to capture my lips in a searing kiss. i return it with fervor, one hand tangling in her silky hair while the other grips her ass possessively.

wonyoung makes a needy little noise and starts fumbling with my belt buckle, desperate to free my aching cock. i help her shove my pants and boxers down just enough to pull myself out.

wonyoung wastes no time wrapping her hand around my shaft, giving a few slow pumps that make me throb in her grip. "oh fuck yes," i hiss through my teeth.

"you want this?" wonyoung asks breathlessly, rubbing the swollen head through her slick folds. "want to fuck me in your shirt?"

"so bad," i grit out. "but i want to taste you first."

wonyoung bites her lip and nods eagerly. she shifts back to kneel between my legs, tugging my shirt up to expose her dripping cunt.

"come and get it then," she challenges sultrily.

i don't hesitate - i dive in face first, licking a long stripe up her slit. wonyoung cries out sharply at the contact, her head falling back in bliss.

"y/n!" she keens. "Your tongue...fuck!"

i devour her like a man starved, licking and sucking at her sensitive flesh. wonyoung writhes above me, her fingers tangling in my hair as she holds me against her.

when i focus my attention on her clit, wonyoung nearly screams, her thighs trembling around my head. i work her mercilessly, determined to make her come on my tongue.

"i'm gonna..." wonyoung warns breathlessly. "don't stop y/n!"

i double my efforts, flicking her clit rapidly and thrusting two fingers deep inside her fluttering walls. wonyoung shatters with a scream, gushing her release into my eager mouth.

i lick her through it, savoring every drop before pulling back to grin up at her. wonyoung is boneless, panting harshly as she comes down.

"you're not done with me yet," i growl, standing and scooping her up in my arms. wonyoung wraps her legs around my waist instinctively.

i carry her to the bedroom and toss her onto the mattress. she bounces once before reaching for me hungrily.

"i need your cock," she whines, spreading her legs wide in invitation. "please y/n..."

i crawl over her, kissing her deeply as I line myself up with her entrance. we both moan into the kiss as I sink into her tight heat.

"oh fuck yes," i groan against her lips. "so fucking perfect."

wonyoung rolls her hips up to meet mine, urging me to move. i set a hard, fast pace, driven wild by the feeling of her wrapped around me.

wonyoung is lost to the pleasure, babbling incoherently as I pound into her. the sight of my shirt riding up to expose more of her creamy skin is almost too much to handle.

"touch yourself," i command breathlessly. "i want to see you come apart."

wonyoung doesn't hesitate - she reaches between us to rub tight circles on her clit as I thrust into her. within moments, she's tensing beneath me with a sharp cry.

"fuck y/n!" she screams as she comes hard, her walls clamping down on my cock like a vice.

i follow right after, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan. we collapse together, both gasping for air.

after a few moments, i roll off of wonyoung gently. we lay side by side, just basking in the afterglow.

"fuck that was intense," i say breathlessly.

wonyoung giggles and snuggles into my side. "yeah it was," she agrees. "definitely something i want to repeat."

i smirk and press a kiss to her forehead. "Anytime baby."

we drift off like that - sated, sweaty, and happy. ready to face whatever tomorrow may bring.

[crescenthistory]

21. (During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)) with barty n reader pls

(may I be 🪳 anon?)

hi lovely 🪳 anon, finally i got around to your request<33 i made them have an established relationship because i craved bf!barty, hope it still scratches your itch hihi. enjoy your daily dose of barty!

Prompt: 21. During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time) from this list

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni), vaguely described smut, fem!reader, sexual jokes, aftercare, accidental blood kink, scratching, established relationship, praise kink, multiple orgasms, soft!barty, barty is a masochist, reader almost cries, cursing, reader is (jokingly) mean to him and he loves it, the l word is said a lot

Note: i am so soft for this man

If there was one way to describe your relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior, it is all encompassing.

Intoxicating, larger than life, obsessive.

He was not one to act half-heartedly in any regard, to both your chagrin and infatuation. It was not half-hearted when he more or less picked you out of the crowd in your first year, claiming you as his best friend without giving you time to react, dragging you by the hand into the whirlwind of his life. It was not half-hearted when he chased off any romantic prospect for you because they were not good enough for you, baby, even landing some in the infirmary if they dared hurt your feelings. It was not half-hearted when he finally crumbled under the weight of his own feelings, consequences be damned, and brought his lips to yours in the abandoned Slytherin common room late at night.

And it certainly was not half-hearted how he claimed you, body and soul, ever since whenever ample opportunity arose. 

You had no complaints about that aspect of it.

Which is how your skin was shimmery with a light layer of sweat with Barty’s lazy, toothy kisses lathered all over your neck as he worked into you in the solitude of his dorm. Evenings when you could stay over, the other boys were quickly kicked out by Barty, though to no significant inconvenience for them, as Regulus was more than happy to sneak away with James and Evan was in the middle of pursuing some hot heated Ravenclaw. In their absence, Barty’s presence easily dominated the room, hands roving all over your body as his whispers of worship filled your ears and anything other than him became completely erased from your mind.

Your legs trembled where they had him in a death grip as his skillful ministrations and attentive thumb brought you towards your fourth climax of the night. His name spilled over your lips along with a string of curses as your eyes clamped shut. You could feel his smile through his kisses as he worked beautiful marks onto your shoulders – just far enough down to be shielded from view in your uniform, your shared little secret.

“Fuck, such beautiful sounds from my best girl,” Barty’s voice was hoarse from the past hours, which somehow just drove you crazier for him. “Are you gonna come for me, gorgeous? Let go for me?”

No coherent thoughts could be strung together, your mind going blank with just Barty coursing through it. Instead you moaned prettily in a way that made Barty groan and pick up his speed, determined to coax more from you, just a little more.

Your hands had been clinging to his flexing bicep and tugging at his hair, but as your body came undone beneath him, you resorted to clutching onto his shoulders and back instead. Your nails, that you always kept long enough to satisfyingly scratch Barty’s hair and arms, dug into his skin for leverage, and you half-registered the moans of pleasure he gave into the skin of your neck. As your body shook both from your climax and the movements of him against you, your fingers dragged slowly down his back.

“Oh, gods– Barty–” was all you managed to get out as you clambered onto him, seeing stars. You needed him closer, just a little closer, more.

“Love it when you say my name, baby,” he whispered into you as his hips stuttered, finally reaching his own high with a groan. “S’good for me, s’perfect.”

You shakily kiss his shoulder, palms moving to smooth over his back you had just been clawing at, the movement instinctual and dripping with affection. Calming him down, gearing him through his own earth-shattering orgasm.

His movements slowed down, dragging the seconds out, before he finally stilled against you, collapsing with his weight onto you in that way he knew you loved. His hands that had been consuming every piece of flesh, every curve of your body, became almost painfully light now, brushing up your sides, over your arms, a silent thank you. You could read this man without needing to open your eyes or ears.

For a minute you laid there, regaining your breath while also revelling in the smell of him mixed with the haze of sex that filled the room. 

Then, Barty laughed breathily into your shoulder before retreating from his cocoon to look at you with lovesick eyes, propping his weight up onto his elbows.

“That was one for the history books.” His grin was lopsided, sweat still over his eyebrow.

You laughed in turn, giving him a slight roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t disagree. The longer you were together, the more you learned of each other, the more passionate your frequent trysts became. You didn’t think you could love him more.

Still – “You’re deranged, Junior,” you said through a laugh – you couldn’t let the opportunity to tease him slide.

Unfazed, Barty leaned down to press a lazy kiss to your lips and despite your teasing you had no inhibition with kissing him back, passionate and slow. “Maybe,” he said between kisses. “But you love me all the more for it. And I love you too.”

You mumbled an I love you, silly against his lips and you could feel him grin against you. 

All too soon, Barty pulled back and away from you, rolling off your body to reach for his wand on the bedside table to clean the both of you – and the sheets – up. You gazed after him with a look you knew your friends would never let you live down if they were here to see it, studying his features as he laid on his stomach, stretching his arm out. One of his legs were still tangled with yours, as if he couldn’t stand being completely without your touch. The muscles in his bicep flexed deliciously, as did the ripples across his shoulders and back, and –

“Merlin’s tits, Barty, your back!” you exclaimed, instantly snapping out of your daze.

It was normal for you both to be quite marked up after being with each other, especially on nights like this where you could truly take your time. Your hips often had some beautiful bruises grazing its sides, hickies covering your chest and collarbone, sometimes your neck if Barty felt particularly possessive. In turn, you loved giving him your own love bites and his shoulders and biceps often had small indents from your nails digging into them.

But this– Your eyes roved over Barty’s back, the usual pink streaks of teased skin that you left there were now bright red and razor thin, blood piping out at random places. There were many of them, trailing over and around each other, a bloody, angry constellation of your desperation from mere minutes ago.

At your outburst, Barty looked at you over his shoulder with a smug smirk, fingers finally curling around his wand. “What of my back?”

“I– it’s–” you sputtered, one hand wildly gesturing towards him, the other half-covering your mouth as you sat up to get a better view. “You’re bleeding, darling I’m so sorry.”

Barty sat up to match you, grabbing you by your thighs to drag you closer to him. A stupid grin was still plastered over his face. 

“Oh, I know,” he smiled. “It was so fucking hot.”

His words didn’t register with you as you kept fussing over him, attempting to sit at his side so you could see his wounds and his face all at the same time. His hand on your thigh squeezed as he continued to laugh silently.

“You’re bleeding.” You repeated, letting your finger ghost over the skin right beside a particularly bloody scratch. "Gods, I'm so sorry." Your eyes began to sting as they flitted all over his back, and at that Barty seemed to snap out of his humour.

“Hey, no, baby, hey.” He grabbed your hands with his, forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. It’s more than fine actually, I liked it – loved it even. You should really make me bleed more often.”

You stared at him incredulously, as if he was being particularly stupid, eyes still slightly glossy with tears. “What?”

He laughed even more at your confusion, which almost shifted the apologies on the tip of your tongue into scolding. 

“As I said, it was hot. I knew you were drawing blood as you were doing it – didn’t you hear how much I loved it?” His tone was teasing, mischief evident on his face.

You opened and closed your mouth at that, trying to make your post-orgasm brain keep up with the conversation. “I actually didn’t hear anything by that point,” you mumbled, looking between your hands clutched with his and his face, which now looked impossibly more smug.

“Right, that’s on me then,” he teased. You pretended to lightly shove him, but he used your movement against you, trapping you in his arms and dragging you closer to his body.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” 

“Was I stupid when I made you come once on my fingers, once on my tongue and twice on my–”

You pinched him, making him yelp in a voice so light it made the both of you laugh. You squeezed him in your arms, careful not to let your hands touch his still bleeding back.

“I still wanna say sorry.” You pulled back to look at him. The threat of tears were gone, but your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, enough that he simply had to kiss it better. So he did, lips softly brushing yours in a way that calmed you down every time.

“Well, don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, darling. I actually give you blanket consent to please make me bleed again next time. However you want.” He winked at you and you lightly swatted at his arm, though you couldn’t ignore how your blood warmed at his words.

“Shut up,” you mumbled before kissing him again. Your tone made it clear to Barty that he won that conversation.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you.” Barty pulled his lips away from yours, holding your face in between his palms. “Can I please clean us up like I wanted, now?”

You simply nodded, leaning back onto your elbows beside him as he quickly flicked his wand over your bodies and the bed. A sigh escaped your lips at the warm feeling across your thighs and stomach, as if somebody had carefully dragged a warm towel over you and immediately dried you off. Barty smiled at you softly when he heard your sounds of comfort.

You reached out to take the wand from his hands and moved to point it towards his back when he snapped out of staring at you and caught the tip of the wand with his hand before you had the time to use it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You looked at him confused. “Cleaning you up?”

“I already did that,” he retorted. 

“I meant the cuts, Barty.”

He immediately shook his head at that, prying the wand from your fingers – his wand, that wouldn’t even have been as effective when you used it – and giving you an almost offended look. “Nope. They’re staying, if I wanted them gone I would have healed them.”

“Barty–” you began to chide, but he cut you off.

“I want to keep them. Little reminder of you. We don’t heal the hickies I give you, hm?” His voice was equal parts teasing and affectionate now, as if your scratches was something precious to him.

“My hickies aren’t painful and bleeding.” You deadpanned at him. He just shrugged, as if your point was entirely irrelevant. 

“You’ll stain the sheets with your blood,” you tried then. 

“How unfortunate that I’m not a wizard who can remove blood stains without any effort.” He tauntingly waved the wand in your face then before leaning over to place it back on his nightstand.

You just groaned at him, hoping he knew that it meant you are insufferable and impossible. He did, and it warmed his heart.

“C’mon, darling,” he drawled as he snuck back up beside you, pulling the duvet around the two of you, creating your own perfect cocoon. “You should be flattered, if anything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but still pulled him further into your arms, limbs entangling and bare chests pressed against each other. A relaxed sigh escaped you, indicating that you were in no way actually indignant. 

“Just don’t want you to be in pain, B.” Your hand moved up to play with his hair, culprits lightly scratching at the nape of his neck.

Barty’s eyes softened at that and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “‘S not painful, love, I’m good. I’m all good.” His words were whispered against your skin. You closed your eyes at the sensation, the safety of it all.

“You sure?”

“I swear it.”

You hummed, relenting, and finally buried your face in his neck as he pulled you closer. Sporadic kisses were pressed into your hair, your shoulder, as you continued with your soft conversation filled with praises and small declarations of love. You didn’t notice you were beginning to slip away before your breath slowed against Barty’s skin and he glanced down, smiling when he saw your sleeping form. His fingers drawing patterns on your back spelled out I love you as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[muntitled]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

[stsgooo]

Subconscious Reassurance.

✩࿐ summary: even the strongest has dreams he longs to be reality.

warning(s): slight 236 spoilers, shibuya incident spoilers, mentioned death, poor coping mechanisms, lovesick!gojo, girldad!gojo, as usual not proofread (it’s 2 am give me a break). wc; 3.6k

pairing(s): gojo satoru x reader

a/n: keep seeing tiktoks about the lamp story and this came to me. it’s a shortie but i just wanted to get this out. also do we prefer the colorless manga panels or the ones like the above one? i was messing with filters on picsart so lmk :)

divider 1 | previous work | ao3

SATORU ARRIVED HOME EXACTLY 7 PM.

He knew it was true because that’s the time he always arrived. There was no need to glance at the clock or question anyone around him. He knew it was 7PM.

The sun was peeking through the curtains and basking your shared home in a golden hue. Warmth enveloped his very being as he closed the front door behind him. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t being touched by the sun, that wasn’t feeling the same feelings he did.

The sky outside was illuminated in a mixture of purples, reds, oranges, and pinks. A palate that could be implemented into his very soul and he’d smile in return.

“Daddy!”

The call was familiar and came exactly one minute after Satoru walked through the door.

Again, he didn’t need to glance, he just knew.

A smile blossomed on his lips and he crouched down to catch the little girl that jumped into his arms with a loud squeal. Her nose pressed into her cheek as she happily rambled about how much she missed him. A norm and a routine that he greeted happily with his own reassurances that he missed her infinitely more.

"Daddy," she whined, her tiny chubby fingers reaching up for his blindfold. "Can't see your eyes, daddy."

This happened every night after he arrived home. She would always frown and trace her nails over where his eyes would definitely be. Most of the time it was uncomfortable and, frankly, a little scary, but he always welcomed it with an overly dramatic gasp.

"Oh, sorry, daddy forgot!" He hooked his finger under the fabric and pulled it down to rest against his neck. Her eyes (which were his) met his and brightened considerably. "Is that better, Rie?"

Rie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

Despite the aching behind his right eye, Satoru kept the blindfold off for Rie’s sake. She had always expressed her upmost displeasure for the item since she was a baby. Crying and crying until he finally pulled it off. It’d been a rough first few years trying to get used to pulling the thing off whenever he got home. But he’d grown accustomed to it.

“What’s mama up to?” Satoru asked softly, tracing his finger briefly over the bridge of Rie’s nose as she giggled.

The little girl swayed slightly in his arms. “Mama’s been working in the eating room—“ dining room, Satoru softly corrected with a smile, “—she put on on Yuki for me to watch while she worked.”

“Yuki, huh? Lucky you!” He playfully pinched her cheek which resulted in her swatting his hand with a resounding “daddy!” in protest. Satoru adjusted her on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “Should we go bother mommy?”

Like usual, Rie enthusiastically nodded in response.

Poor you.

True to his routine, he made his way from the front door towards the dining room, loudly. He left no room for you to not hear him coming him and gave you ample opportunity to prepare for his and Rie’s interruption on your precious work (he swore you were almost as bad as Nanam— …. as… as…).

The smile on his lips didn’t falter as his mind trailed away from the forgotten name. What was forgotten obviously wasn’t entirely important. He enthusiastically turned the corner, arm thrown out as Rie squealed happily as his rather jerky movements.

You were as you always were. Responsible. In your usual space occupying your rightful position.

Despite the loud (dramatic) entrance he made, you did not react in anyway. Your eyes were glued to your screen as you furiously typed away a response to whoever got on your bad side today. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. In fact, this should’ve been around the time Gakuganji of Ya— someone of higher standing emailed you something that didn’t sit right with you. Even the appearance of your amazing and rambunctious husband didn’t seem to deter you from your mission.

Satoru pouted, huffing as he peacefully placed Rie down (the girl now more interested in the TV returning to her show), and crept closer to you. Still, you did not look away.

He leaned over, his chin hooked over his shoulder as he peeked over the words you were putting out into the world. Oddly, he couldn’t read any of the screen. He tried squinting your eyes and blinking a few times— nothing. It was more reminiscent of gibberish than any Japanese he knew. None of it seemed to stay in one place and it all smashed together to create a blob.

You knew how to read and write, he knew that much. Was it something with his eyes? He doubted it. But something wasn’t—

The laptop clicked close.

“You’ve never been one to take a hint, Satoru,” you turned your head to place a soft kiss against his temple in greeting. He could feel your tiny smile against his skin. The warmth of your lips. The coolness of your silvia left behind. His chest ached. He missed— missed? “Although, I knew that before I married you.”

He pushed away the mud in his mind and turned his head, placing a peck against your lips. Strawberries. You always had remnants of strawberries on your lips. Rie’s favorite fruit.

“I think it’s one of my many charming qualities.” He hummed.

You rolled your eyes, but placed a chaste kiss against his lips once again. “Charming is pushing it.” You patted his cheek. “It’s definitely an interesting characteristic.”

Satoru pouted. “You make it sound so unappealing.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

He snorted in response, standing to his full height and peeking at you from over his nose. “You know, you’re not innocent either. Thought you said the TV would rot her brain, now you’re putting it on to keep her distracted?” He spared a glance to where Rie was hanging off the couch, upside down, her eyes glued to the television.

You shot him an incredulous look. “Because she’s your daughter and has the self restraint of a puppy. I needed a hour to get some things done.” You pat the top of your laptop. “Sue me.”

Satoru smirked. “I just might for emotional damages.” He gestured towards the laptop with a vague hand. “What exactly had you typing up a storm?”

There was a brief wave of giddiness in his chest when he saw the look in your eyes darken. Passion. Anger. Protectiveness. There were so many things he loved about you. Adored you for. Made him sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it.

“Well, I got an email from —— about some work in Shibuya, but I told him I already checked it out and suffered for it. Well, guess what he said? ——— and ———— suffered too so I can’t complain much. Set me off a bit, had to give him a piece of my mind and remind him what happened.”

Satoru wasn’t sure if he was having a stroke or he was just too awestruck by your beauty; but he swore that your voice simply stopped whenever you spoke names. As if your voice box couldn’t get it out. But you carried on like it was nothing. Your lips had even formed around the words that so desperately wanted to be out there, but were never uttered. You didn’t look panicked or disturbed. If anything, you looked normal. Just sipping from your capri sun that was definitely forced on you by Rie.

It was like he was the only one not hearing it.

It vaguely concerned him, but he was also Gojo Satoru. Sometimes weird things happened that had no explanation.

“But,” you continued once you swallowed down the fruit punch liquid with a twisted face. “I suppose I can’t really blame anyone for what happened. It was Halloween, we were all caught off guard. Some of us suffered for it more than others.”

Satoru, for the life of him, couldn’t recall what happened on Halloween. But he should. He had that overwhelming feeling that he really, really should.

Either way, he gave a nonchalant shrug, “Eh, my motto is that it’s always easier to forgive and forget.” He snatched the remainder of your capri sun and gave a loud slurp.

You grin, resting your chin on your cupped fingers. “I suppose so.” You eyed him warmly, then nodded to the chair next to you. Always warm. Always welcoming. “Now, what did you get up to today?”

Satoru groaned, flopping onto the seat with a creak. He placed the capri sun down to place his hands against his face. “Two specials grades in Iwate, one grade one in Kagawa, then three nasty things leeching off on the playground on the way home.” He knew he should feel exhausted. He usually did. But that day, this day, he did not. If anything, he felt well rested.

Odd.

You hum softly. “They’re overworking you, Satoru,” your tone is barely there. Your words could be missed if the house had any movement or loud noises. But it was just you and him. The soft background noises of your daughter. Always you and him. “They should recognize that you’re just a man. One day it’ll be too much. One day you’ll snap in half.”

Satoru frowned, finding the sudden shift in tone a little unsettling. “I’m the strongest, no need to worry.” He waved a passive hand in the air between you.

“I’ll always worry. It’s been my job to worry.” Your eyes moved towards Rie almost melancholic. “She’ll worry too, you know. She does worry. More than she should at 10.”

Satoru frowned deeper. “Eh…?” He blinked slowly, eyes sliding to Rie with confusion. 10? Was he crazy? Blind? Since when was the little girl sitting on the couch 10? Last he checked, she was six. It was 2012. Were you losing it on him? Was this your subtle way of telling him you’re spiraling again? “Baby, she is not—“

“I know you worry too. Think you’ve been worried about losing since the moment you got home.”

Losing? He’s never lost. Well, except those few times. But they didn’t count. Those were intentional loses.

Satoru was beginning to feel as though you both were having two different conversations. “Y/N, I’m not following.” He stated softly, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you have to do tomorrow, Satoru?” You breezed through as if you knew where that was going. A pensive expression on your face now.

Again, he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Tomorrow? I…Well, I’m going to Shinjuku to… to…” To…what…? What was it he had to do? He could feel it deep in his chest. That ache. That unfamiliar emptiness that made him rub over his heart softly. There was something he was missing.

“Tomorrow’s going to be romantic,” You said wistfully, eyes distant as you sighed. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”

December 24th.

December 24th. So I don’t have to remember two different dates.

How romantic.

Satoru felt his gut churn. He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t explain it but everything felt so tight now.

“I’m not.. I don’t…?”

Why couldn’t he get words out. Why did he stare at you like that? Unmoving, unblinking? Why did his eyes collect with tears.

Why did you look so sad?

You reached out, taking his hand. It’s cold. It feels cold. Not like the usual warmth that envelopes him whenever you held him. Whenever you reached out from him.

You’re cold.

You take his hand. “Satoru, what’s happening tomorrow?”

Seriously, what is with you?

Satoru clenched his jaw. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t sure why but he felt so unnerved. He felt like he’s been disillusioned. As if his world was crumbling. But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand.

You’re cold.

You looked briefly disappointed in his response. “You’re not well. You’re trying to appear to be, but you’re not. She worries. She’s so worried. And you know it.” Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. Your cold thumb gently stroked against his bone, against the tears that were flowing— why was he crying?

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He didn’t feel tired. “I just need a nap.” He didn’t feel tired.

“Oh, Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you uttered it, barely audible. But it was enough to conjure up an earth shattering sob from his chest. A heartbroken tremble under your touch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You’re right here?” Confusion was clear in his tone and his expression as he stared back at you.

You just smiled sadly in response.

He shook his head. “You’re right here.” He prided a finger against your chest. Firm. But cold.

You tilted your head and blinked slowly at him.

Satoru wasn’t sure why, but he took in as deep breath. Like he couldn’t quite catch it in the first place.

“You didn’t— You’re right here!” He desperately clutched onto your hand, pressing your skin against his own. “You’re right here. This-This is real. This-This is you. Please. Please, this is you.”

You only stared sadly in response.

Satoru wasn’t sure what was happening. Why he was so panicked or why he felt so terribly sad— but he knew it was making him quiver and sob. Why? Why? Why did this all have to happen to you? Of all people had you been the one to suffer?

What suffering?

“I…” He felt breathless. Feather light. He felt like he had no control of his lips or his tongue. “Tomorrow I fight… Sukuna…?”

Sukuna? Since when? When did—

“Since before Shibuya. Since before Itadori Yuji.” You answered his thoughts.

Itadori Yuji. Satoru thought that name sounded familiar. A blank face appeared in his mind, the back of a pink hair head facing him. Itadori Yuji.

He felt like he was living someone else’s life. As if he were placed in some point in space where nothing bad could touch it.

But these feelings, these tears, this ache in his chest wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t safe from the darkness of the world.

“Nanami… Yaga… Nobara…” You uttered the names that made his ears ring. That made his muscles tense and his heart sputter to a catastrophic halt. “But still you dream of Suguru…. of me…. of the lives you desperately want to hold on to.”

Suguru… you…

Satoru’s lips quivered.

Suguru… you….

“Why?” You asked the million dollar question.

Breathless whispers against sweat slick skin. Endless touches of tense muscle. Hair hanging and tickling. Eyes sure and hardened with undoubted honesty.

Why? Satoru thought that question was dumb. Why would the earth dream to reach out for the moon and the sun?

He stared at you, big blue eyes glittering with shimmering tears. “I’m the strongest… I should’ve saved the ones I loved… I should’ve… I’m the strongest.”

To be whole. To be loved. To love.

You sigh softly. Sadly. “Satoru, you can’t save everyone.”

“But I could.”

“Obviously not.”

The words were final. Absolute. No doubt. And he supposed, a deep part of him knew, you were right.

But that other part of himself. The one that hated himself for what happened, for whatever happened, convinced him otherwise.

“You don’t—“

“Get it?” You raised an eyebrow at his blink. “I’m your subconscious. I’m your deepest, most personal thoughts. I get it.”

Satoru stared in return. “…huh?”

You pressed your lips together. “Satoru, you’re the strongest. But you don’t always have to be.” You whispered if. A nefarious secret between the both of you that couldn’t be touched. That couldn’t be shared outside of this setting. You scoot closer in your chair. You’re slotted between his legs. “There’ll come a time where you need to step back. To rest. And let those you’ve guided this far to do their jobs.”

Resting. Stepping back.

No one had ever spoken those words to him before. It was never a guarantee nor was it ever a possibility. He feared, even now, he couldn’t even dream about something like that.

Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?

Years later, Satoru didn’t know what to make of his words. But Suguru had always known him better, he supposed.

Distracted, he didn’t realize you had started to card your fingers through his hair, bringing his head against your shoulder. It was a blissful moment when he came to his senses. When he felt your fingers ghost his scalp. When he felt your lips brush against his temple.

“You should take a nap, you look tired.”

The moment the words left your lips, his eyes felt heavy and he felt exhausted. He hadn’t felt tired before. He would love to sleep. But…

“What about you?” He whispered, eyes unmoving from your face. He studied the bow of your lips. The softness and warmth of your eyes. The faint blush across your cheeks. The little wrinkles on your forehead. “If I close my eyes, you’ll be gone.”

“No,” you shook your head and placed your free hand against his rapidly beating heart. “I’ll be here.”

How cliche. He wanted to say. But he would take it. He’d take and savor any moment with you.

He took in a shuddering breath. “I love you.”

“I love you.” No hesitation. No doubt. How could this be a dream? Something of his own mind? He nuzzled into your neck with a small sigh. “Take care of her.”

Take care of her.

Take care of her.

Satoru woke with a soft gasp.

He was not happy or surprised to find the ceiling of his dark room instead of the dining room.

The clock next to his bed illuminated 2AM in angry red outline. He’d been asleep for approximately 4 hours. And dreamt of you. Again.

His jaw clenched as he tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill over. You, angelic, in your rightful place typing away. That’s what you should be doing.

Instead, you were one of the first to die in Shibuya.

It’d been you, then Nanami, then Nobara, then whoever else.

She got caught up with Noritoshi in the tunnels, that Death Womb Painting kid tried to explain to Satoru when everyone else had been too distraught and nervous to reveal it themselves. She didn’t suffer.

It didn’t bring him comfort. Satoru was pretty sure it was a lie, but it still brought him no comfort.

It gave him all the more reason to make Kenjaku suffer.

December 24th.

Today was the day.

Almost two months since your death. Christmas Eve.

Satoru was pretty sure he was about to do the same. Embrace death for the sake of others.

He could look around, tell all of them that he’d win, but there was that growing inkling that this was mounting up against him. That Sukuna— Megumi— knew exactly what to do to get one up on him. He feared the unknown. The possibility this was it.

What would you say?

“Dad?”

Satoru’s eyes dragged from the ceiling and to the spot next to him.

Now 10, Rie was older and less rambunctious. But he blamed that partly on your death and his sudden sealing.

She had clung to him since he returned. Tears streaming down her face as she hugged him, begged him to never go again— she thought she’d lost him just like mama. (It’d been six years since he heard her call you mama.) And she slept in his bed. Said she couldn’t sleep otherwise. She’d curl up against him and he’d run his hands through her hair as he hummed a long forgotten lullaby to guide her to sleep.

Shoko said she needed this. Him.

Satoru knew she needed you.

“Rie, did I wake you?” He asked sympathetically.

“No,” surprisingly, it sounded like the truth. “I’ve been up.”

He frowned, “Why?”

There was a prolonged pause between them. A thick layer of hesitation passed and Satoru tensed up. What could she possibly be up for?

When he heard the small sniffle, his heart ached.

He sat up and drew her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed kisses against her head. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t want you to die!” Rie sobbed immediately. “I don’t want you to fight stupid Sukuna! I just want you to stay here with me— I can’t lose you too!”

I can’t lose you too.

Satoru pressed his lips together as tears sprung to his eyes. “Rie, I’m not going to die.” Such sure words for a man who was worried over his own mortality only moments ago. Who had to be reassured by his subconscious image of his dead wife that it’s okay to lose.

Rie shook her head frantically. “No! I heard Kusakabe say you will!” She sobbed, clutching onto his night shirt with a vice like hold.

Satoru silently cursed the man as he rubbed Rie’s back. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? What does Kusakabe know anyway, the schmuck?” His poor attempt at joking fell flat, Rie only continued to cry. With a heavy sigh, Satoru pulled back, holding her face in his hands. “What do I always say, hm? I’m the strongest. I’ll get one up on him.”

Rie stared up at him and Satoru was painfully aware of how young she was. “You promise?” She uttered.

Satoru hesitated.

If he were to promise and it didn’t actually work out, who was he? Would she resent him for the rest of her life? Would she try to forget him and spit on his memory? He’d been promised many things in life by people he looked up to and every single one had been broken. Resentment festered. Trust was broken.

What kind of father was he if he—

Take care of her. She worries.

Satoru tucked some of her hair— your hair— behind her ear. “I promise.” He whispered, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I promise.”

Rie clutched onto him once again. “I love you.”

No hesitation.

“I love you too.”

The worries of Sukuna and Kenjaku could wait until morning. Satoru had to focus on her now.

Take care of her.

[jeongsoob]

not even sometimes ᯓ 𝚌𝚜

SFW version of my fic posted on @heechwe .ᐟ

୨୧ pairing: choi san x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 3.2k ୨୧ genre: fluff, sprinkles of angst, suggestive (just in last scene) ୨୧ tags: neighbor to lovers au, healthy communication for the win ୨୧ synopsis: You've never been good at planning for the unexpected, much less a new neighbor. But the man in question may just love that about you, among other things you didn't see in yourself to begin with. ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is a remaster of an old fic I wrote years ago for a member of NCT, the original title being "Where We Begin." Seeing as I am not following that group anymore and I thought it'd be fun to polish up some old work, what the hell. Thank you to my betas for reading this one, @prkhaven @lovetaroandtaemin @tinycatharsis @jjunbug @innocygnet, I love you lots. Title inspiration from "Sometimes" by Ariana Grande!

Some people know the instant something begins, the start of something new brimming with possibilities palpable within the surrounding air. 

For you, it’s not that simple. 

It seems some things come and go in your life without warning or realization. You’ve fought enough for things to stay or leave for so many years that now it’s almost a godsend to lack that kind of perception. Whether it be for a new job opportunity, an unexpected act of kindness, or a person, it’s all the same. Beginnings can be as subtle as a wisp of wind through your window, or as abrasive as thunderclaps that rattle an entire room. Regardless, you’ve not caught on.

Lucky for you, Choi San isn’t subtle. With a body like his, how could he be?

The first time San greets you, he’s carrying an ottoman on his shoulder and a football in his hand. The early Saturday morning permeates through the hallway window, emphasizing his stark black hair and encroaching size, but he’s so beautifully smiling you felt nothing but warmth for the man in front of you. Across from your apartment sits his door halfway open, giving you ample opportunity to notice the manila moving boxes crowding the space of his new home.

The place had been empty for almost a month before San, the pain of Jeongin saying goodbye fresh every time you came home. The kid was a hilarious neighbor and a great friend, and while he didn’t leave your life, watching him go after three years left a noticeable pang of sadness. Having a new neighbor so soon felt foreign, unwelcome. But once San drops the ottoman carefully onto the small span of tile between your apartments and extends a hand, you know you can get used to the change if the new neighbor in question is this open, welcoming, and drop-dead gorgeous.

You give San your name with a smile, a soft yet large hand enveloping your smaller one. “You’ll love it here. I’ve been here for almost five years, never a problem.”

“That’s perfect. I’ve been couch-surfing for two months, so anything is better than my friends’ smelly socks and booty calls.”

You giggle, the sound reverberating off the highway walls. It almost makes you forget your choice of clothing, the realization suddenly hitting you.

You love your duck-patterned pajama bottoms and tattered college sweatshirt, but the clothing isn’t exactly the best outfit to meet new people in. Then again, nobody dresses up to run downstairs and get their weekly mail anyway, even if there’s a chance of running into someone as handsome as your new neighbor. “Sorry I’m not that presentable. I didn’t know you’d be coming today.”

“It’s no problem. I should’ve moved in yesterday, but I had an emergency. Well, if you could call a friend needing a three-page recipe an emergency.” San grins and shrugs, twirling the ball between his hands.

You giggle, pointing a finger towards the football. “So, you play sports and cook?”

“Not really, just a parting gift from my friend Woo for the recipe I owed him. I guess it’s also a housewarming gift‌, considering.”

You nod slowly and begin your trek down the hallway and to the mailroom, remembering your initial goal when you were leaving ten minutes ago. “Well, San, if you need help unpacking, just give me a knock!”

“I definitely will!” San waves goodbye and offers you the widest smile you’ve seen yet, saccharine in a way you didn’t realize you needed so early in the morning. He enters his new apartment without another turn of his head, while you wonder if this is the moment of realization the guy across the hall will be more than a stranger. Perhaps even a welcome addition to your life.

You open up your door a day later to find San with an inquisitive pout, replacing the mesmerizing smile he left you with. His hands respectively hold a large takeout bag and a tray of two drinks, and you guess what he’s after before he says the words. 

“Don’t tell me,” you say. “You need help unboxing.”

“Yes and no.”

“Oh?” You ask, partially shocked.

“So, I know you probably offered to help me unpack since I have the ‘new neighbor’ card. Which is great, since I actually do need help today. But, it would be rude to not offer food for your services, so it can be part moving part…treating a cute girl to lunch.” San tips the bag up with a grin, making you chuckle. “What do you say, neighbor?

As he waits for your answer, you discover Choi San is already too sweet to say no to. He asks so earnestly, and he’s feeding you, doing more than most of your exes ever did. The response easily slips off of your tongue. “That sounds great. Lemme just get my keys.” Following him into his apartment, you try to calm the staccato of your heart to a normal pace.

Your new neighbor truly has no shame as the two of you open all of his remaining boxes together, San confessing the origins of certain items you take out with a questioning, raised eyebrow. While he folds his clothes and sets them aside to move to his bedroom later, you tell him about your degree and how you can’t wait for the spring semester to end, your last step towards graduating in the summer.

You snap silly photos of him and take a few together to capture the moment; he ruffles your hair in a few and makes the resulting photos blurry, but you don’t mind. When you’re not unboxing and discussing your comprehensive histories, you eat pineapple fried rice and dumpling soup from the takeout containers and sip flat sodas you don’t bother replacing. The clear attachment you’ve already developed with San is worth drinking a watered-down soda.

“What do you do in your free time?” you ask before downing what’s left in your can.

“I work with my friends in a small studio downtown. It’s not much, but we love it and it helps pay for this.” He gestures to the apartment with dramatic grandeur, almost knocking over his drink. “That’s actually why I’ve been moving most of this by myself. Before you helped, I mean. There’s this production issue we glossed over, and my buddy Mingi wants it smoothed out before the song’s released.”

“Gotta love the  music life.” You sigh. “The arts are tough.”

“Yeah, I do love it. I don’t know where I’d be without it, to tell you the truth.” San chuckles, the sound rumbling in his throat.

You pat his shoulder with your hand. “I’m sure you’re doing great. You seem like a person who can find fun in anything. With your work, I know your friends need that.”

“Thanks,” he replies. San dips a hand through his hair, hoping to conceal his red face alongside his aggressively beating heart. “I bet you’re someone who keeps a lot of people calm and…I don’t know, grounded? You just give off this vibe like you know what you’re doing.”

You laugh again, pressing your empty soda can to your chest. “You’re probably the first person that’s ever thought about me that way.” Your friends and family often sing their praises for you, but what would get San’s compliment laughed out of any room is the fact he thinks you have a consciously prepared bone in your body.

You can barely give your best friends proper preparation for outfit choices, much less prepare for bigger life events. It’s what your exes have harped on for ages, your impulsiveness and second-nature to lead with your heart rather than your head, your ultimate downfall. How did anyone, especially yourself, expect you to go against habit and commit to anything? If there was an option to have someone spell it out for you, you would choose that in a heartbeat. To this day, sometimes it feels like you stumble around for answers, only doing things halfway and never with full intention.

You know these things about yourself like the back of your hand.. Yet, you can’t contain the flutter in your heart from San being so sure of you already. It may just be the takeout, the fullness of his stomach making his brain fuzzy, but you don’t care. You appreciate it regardless.

“That’s a good thing, though,” you mumble, his stare tickling the edges of your skin.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He winks at you, the gesture only solidifying every positive thought you have about him. He opens another box and removes the bubble wrap inside, and in that moment, you believe a piece of your heart silently belongs between the creases of his smile.

By the time you finish, the sun is setting, and you’re sitting next to San with your backs drooping against his couch. You rub your belly in slow, tiny circles, full from the food and copious amount of snacks you munched on while moving the smaller trinkets and furniture.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve known the pretzels and gummy worms would make you sick.” He pouts, staring down at your slumped body.

“No, it’s okay. Just another minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’re not in my hair. It’s too fantastic to be disturbed like that..” His confidence can be seen from space, you think as the corners of your lips rise. Without warning, San sets his head in your lap as his eyelashes flutter to a close. He’s burly at first glance, but you realize as he snuggles into your body how you fit together perfectly in this way. “I mean it. I’ve had a lot of fun today.”

Instinctively, you swipe one hand through his bangs, and he takes your fingers between his own. “We just met, but it’s like you make things slow down. I’m not running around the place like an idiot or saying the wrong things for the first time. Does that make sense?”

You close your eyes too, letting the words rumble around in your head. Responding to them with the peace within your smile and a squeeze of your hand, you know he’s smiling too without having to look down at him. “It does.”

In an array of textbooks, highlighters, and article clippings, San swipes through the words with a blue pen to mark important information for later. While it’s adorable watching him as he works, he has little to no foresight on the weekly topic in your Greek literature course.

Chan and Jisung, your study partners, left hours ago, but you stayed stuck with a pile of additional reading your professor dumped on you, including the play you still had to read. 

The night seemed to only be beginning for you, and you could only give your friends a sad smile as you walked them out of your apartment. With perfect timing, San popped his head out with a smirk, his concern giving way when he noticed the defeat in your posture.

“Can I help?” were the first words out of his mouth as you were on the verge of tears, your mountain of a neighbor suddenly becoming your shining light through the storm of academic writing and assignments.

He definitely isn’t helping in the way he imagined, but watching his eyebrows furrow in concentration and catching the delight on his face when he marks the “right” sentence makes the hours feel less tedious.

“I mean, why does Euripides have to be such a tragic writer? There’s nothing wrong with writing cheerful things now and then,” San says as he drops the pen onto the paper. Rolling closer to your spot on your bedroom floor, he pouts and puts his hands underneath his chin.

“Well, San, since he wrote tragic Greek plays, I think he was just creating what he knew. Like Sophocles, he just kept his daily life in mind when he was writing.” You smile to yourself, skimming the lines of the last act within your textbook.

“Excuse me, Smarty. I’ll just nap while you do your own notes, then.” He leans against your thigh, the back of his head mushed into the fabric of your shorts.

You scoff. “I just read the materials and introduction! You give me too much credit.”

One of his eyes pops open, followed by the crossing of his arms. “You still know things! Sometimes, you really don’t see that. And I’ve been your neighbor for what, a few weeks now? Give yourself more credit, angel.”

You refuse to acknowledge the pet name, knowing he’ll sense the change in your body if you do. Going for a lighthearted response, you stick your tongue out in his direction. “Trust me, you give enough credit to yourself for the both of us.”

San says your name and sits up, mirroring your crossed-legged position. “Maybe I do, but only because I know how it feels to not give yourself the self-assurance you deserve.”

You gape in mock surprise. “Choi San, not sure of himself? I never would have guessed.”

“Yes, I’m not flawless.” He laughs and knocks his fist softly into your shoulder. “When I was younger, sometimes people thought it was all an act, me being so ‘full’ of myself, all the time. In a way, it was just to pretend that there weren’t times when I didn’t feel confident in what I could do and if I could do it. It still happens, but not as much as before.”

“That’s hard to believe.” You drop your head, staring at your hands in your lap.

He taps his fingers under your chin. “It’s true. Some days, it can be so difficult to believe you’re capable. But you are, in so many ways. Anyone who loves you could see that tenfold. But in the end, the person who needs to see that first is you. Nobody else.”

You wipe away the tears that are  prepared to stream down your face, knowing it is ridiculous to cry at the comforting advice San offers. But he says all the right things every time you need them and every time you come across all the hidden fears and self-critiques you harbor.

“Are you crying,” he asks, lips curling into a frown. He presses a hand to your cheek, prepared to catch any tears before they fall, but you shake your head softly.

“I’m not sad, I promise. I just—I meant it. You give me more credit than I ever give myself, and I know it’s a bad habit, but it feels good having someone else notice…how hard it can be, even if I’m still trying.”

His thumb rubs back and forth across the apple of your cheek, sentiment and patience etched into expression. “Someone has to, don’t they?”

Staring into his eyes, you notice how much they shine, even in the dim lighting of your desk lamp. You chastise yourself for never noticing how brown and bright they were before. With a tiny vow, you promise to admire them for as long as you can, whether out loud or in silence. As long as San feels admired in the way he always should be.

The twinkle in his irises reflects in his close-lipped smile. You don’t stop to think as you lean in to kiss the sharp line of his cheek, knowing you need him as much as you need his words. He parts his mouth in shock, the hand on your cheek still. “Thank you, Sannie.”

When you rest your head on your pillow to sleep hours later, you still feel the shape of him on your lips and the fondness of his stare on your skin.

A knock on your door one Sunday afternoon reveals San with one of his hands cut up, a few scrapes visibly bleeding.

“Shit,” you curse, inspecting the cuts with your hands. He winces when you touch a deeper one, a hiss whistling through his teeth. “I’m sorry. What happened?”

“I dropped some glass cups. I didn’t know what happened to my broom, so I thought picking it up would be fine if I was careful,” he mumbles, obviously embarrassed about the mishap.

You press a hand to his shoulder as a signal for him to step inside your apartment. He does, observing the living room as you run to get supplies from your bathroom. The fuzzy, polka dot blanket draped across your even fuzzier, gray couch and the rerun of some 90s comedy makes him smile to himself. How can someone be so kind and cute? San thinks to himself.

You’ve both hung out many times since you helped him unpack, especially in your bedroom, but he’s never noticed the smaller things in your place. Seeing the ins and outs of your life in the decor, the few dishes in your sink, family photos by the door, and pens left on the counter, he doesn’t feel like he’s intruding. Rather, he’s noticing the pieces of you and storing them away to remember later. That’s how the ache inside his chest would describe it. For now, at least.

“I have band-aids, ointment, and gauze,” you note the supplies in your hand as you make it back to him. You’re no stranger to mishaps like accidental bruises and bumps, so coming as prepared as possible for this one facet of everyday life is doable, even for you. “Sit down, Sannie.”

When you guide both of you to the couch, you drape the blanket across his lap and pause the show on your television. You hold up the first-aid kit, grabbing his attention and smiling behind the box. “Ready to be patched up?”

“Readier than ready.”

The minutes pass quietly as San watches the rest of the episode, and you treat his smaller cuts with small circular band-aids. You wrap the deeper gashes up with pale gauze, rubbing some cream on the wounds to start the healing process. As you grab more of the ointment from the tin, you realize San being hurt in any capacity is painful, unbearable even, for you as well as him. While you have more than an inkling of what that means, you push it out of your mind to focus on your table-side healing.

When he’s patched up, you flick his wrist. “You’re good to go, sir.”

He grins in response. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. That’s what neighbors are for right?” The word feels too simple to describe San and what he means to you.

“Definitely,” he murmurs. Your faces rest less than a foot apart from each other, knees slightly touching. 

In any instance, you’d have backed away quickly and given your new friend and neighbor a proper send-off back to his apartment. However, he’s so warm, inviting, here. It has to be ridiculous to feel so safe in his presence this soon, but San is the least ridiculous person you know. 

He can be vain, more confident in himself than the average person is, and satisfied with his own absurdity. Maybe those things turn some people off, but they’re only a few things that you adore about him, the exterior pieces to a beautiful interior. And adore you do, maybe too much and too fast in the month that you’ve known him. But if someone calls you senseless for that, then senseless is what you are.

When you kiss his lips, pressing your mouth firmly to his, you feel senseless. All of your feelings rotate around him, none of your own to pull from as you want nothing but him to spread inside of you. His kindness, his patience, his love, you want it all. 

Once you separate, your heart and mind still punch-drunk on his lips, San breaks the silence by saying, “So, I’m not the best cook, but you deserve some sort of meal after all of this.” He kisses your cheek before focusing his gaze back on you. “And I may or may not be collecting my repayment after helping you with those articles right now so you say yes.” He grins again, charming and electrifying. “What do you say?”

“We just kissed and you think I’ll say no to that?” you ask with a giggle. 

“I’m just making sure!”

You’ve never been observant. Some cues go past your head entirely, and you know this. But San’s skin, so comfortably close to yours, sends the gentlest calm across yours like the familiar prickles of gooseflesh. You can see him and read his obvious intentions, and you know now you’re ready to welcome the start of something new with open arms. There’s no right or wrong to fear, no choice to be any less certain about. It’s easy to feel that way when sure of him when he looks at you the way he does? “I’d love to have a meal with you, San.”

Two months pass, and as San’s hand draws circles into the divot of your hip, you remember that tender stillness you felt after you first met, the first time you hung out together in what San called “your first not-first date” which you lovingly shoved him for, the first night you spent together, and all the dates that followed. Most important, that stillness never disappeared or faded into the background. Not since the first time you saw him, not when he told you it was more than fine to leave most of your stuff at his place (especially your polka dot blanket), and not when he told you he loved you hours ago.

“What are you thinking about?” San pulls you from your thoughts with his question, his whisper raspy. He kisses your bare shoulder, the soft press of his lips warming you to the bone.

“You.”

“Oh? Only good things I hope.” He smirks, trailing his kisses up to your neck. “Or bad, I prefer both.” You giggle at the few swipes of his tongue on the hollow of your throat, but you tug on the ends of his hair to pull his attention back to your face.

“The best things. How I still get excited every time I see you, and how easy it is to make you smile. How you make me feel as though I can do anything, because I have all the power in the world to do it.” You stroke the corners of his mouth, pulling them up and down to make him laugh. “How much I love you.”

In his laughter, he wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. Peppering his face with kisses, the two of you fall deeper inside the sheets, the only space in the world meant for the two of you. The smell of his cologne lingers on his body, your favorite smell. You breathe it in as he says, “I love you too.” He says the words in between more sets of kisses stamped into your face and neck.

The sunlight peeks in through San’s curtains when you retreat from underneath the comforter, the signal of a new day. Another set of beginnings and discoveries to look for, new realizations to be had. Only, this day is different. You no longer fear as you once did. If either you or San aren’t looking close enough, the other person will be there to help put the pieces together. Other days, you know you’re strong enough now to figure it all out on your own, just like San is. The two of you can be as slow or fast-paced as you want to, impulses or plans be damned. If that’s what love is supposed to be, you never want it to pass you by again.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi @wonkieriduel @innocygnet @filmnings

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊: @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @pirateeznet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙼𝚈 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺𝚂 𝘰𝘳 𝙹𝙾𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖩𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖮𝖮𝖡; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[captain-huggy-bear]

bestie i can’t get clayton stupid keller out of my head. i’ve convinced myself he’s a thigh guy. he’s biting and pinching and rubbing and ugh

Call me biased here...but I am a firm believer that he's a thighs, butt, hips man. He gives vibes of liking them thighs thiiicckkk (but I am biased as a girlie with junk in the trunk lol) Also we all know I firmly believe he's a biter, he is a biter, a nibbler, an oral fixator, Let him bite your thighs please, thanks. 18+ NSFW MDNI Big requests/full fic/big idea requests are closed at the moment but drabble and prompt requests are still open. Writing Masterlist

He blames you entirely. That fucking skirt is going to kill him. Short, flared, fanning out over your ample hips and stopping short in a way that shows your thighs, God, your fucking thighs. They're plush and soft and Jesus, can he just have his head crushed between them? That's how he wants to go out he decides, eyes fixed on your skin.

You're trying to kill him. He's actually certain because Jesus Christ how can you expect him to sit there normally for an entire evening at a bar with his team mates when his eyes keep drifting down to those thighs, plush flesh that he needs to bite, nibble on, pinch, touch.

He lasts 10 minutes before his hand is on your knee.

"Clay." Your voice is a low warning because you know where his head is at, the way his eyes are dark and half-lidded, fingers pressing into your knee, ring glinting against your skin.

"What?"

"You know what." Your hand reaches atop his as it slides from your knee to the middle of your thigh, an attempt to stop him in his tracks under the table. Your hand so tiny compared to his that it only adds fuel to the fire in his gut, the desire to say fuck it and drag you home.

His fingers just tighten their grip on your thigh, kneading the flesh there like he's kneading dough. His hand is so fucking warm, so large, so...God, so Clay, that your resolve is a little weak, weak enough that he can slide his hand higher until it slips between your thighs.

You draw your line there, thighs pressing together tight to stop him moving any further but it just makes him laugh, low and deep. A gravelly sort of laugh that has your eyelids fluttering as you hide your face in his shoulder for a moment, certain people will know he's got his hand between your thighs under the table.

"What's so funny, cap?" It's Kess that asks, turning those big oblivious brown eyes on the two of you and you want him to just turn away, to focus back on Jack and the conversation they were in the middle of because now there's at least four pairs of eyes on you.

"Nothing, just a bad joke..." Clay smirks at him in that way of his, all quiet confidence, like there's an inside joke Michael's not apart of...which in a way is true.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, baby, what was that joke again?" The look you give him is more a glare than anything else, but still, you breathe deep and turn to Kess with a smile, face flushing and warming because he's got to know what's going on under the table, surely?

"Why did the lobster blush?"

"Why?" You yelp as Clay pinches your thigh and you cough to cover it up, Kess giving you a confused look like he thinks you might be losing it. Which to be fair you feel like you are.

"The seaweed."

"Right..." Your bad joke falls flat, flat enough that all the eyes on you turn away, returning to past conversations until you can breathe a little easier.

"Clay..." You're whispering in his ear, worried about getting caught. His hand still trapped between your thighs, pinches you again on your inner thigh, sensitive, too much. It has your stomach flipping, wetness gathering between your thighs, shiver rolling over your skin.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Take me home."

He doesn't even respond, not verbally. Doesn't even say much to the rest of the team, a short goodnight that's so abrupt they must be confused, before he's up and practically dragging you out of the bar and to the car.

All he can think about is his lips on your thigh, his teeth biting into the plump flesh, leaving marks over your skin until you can't wear a skirt without someone seeing who you belong to.

His hand doesn't leave your thigh the entire drive, rubbing from knee to hip, slipping under your skirt, pinching, rolling the flesh between his fingers until you're dotted with little red marks and shaking in your seat from need.

And when he finally has you home? Laid out on your bed, thighs spread to accommodate those broad shoulders of his? Fuck, you're not going anywhere for hours, not getting any relief because he doesn't even touch you where you want him most. Fingers not reaching for your clit or slipping inside your cunt. Instead he's all teeth and tongue on each thigh, working from knee up to the crease at your pelvis. He bites and nips, he sucks bruises into your skin and gently runs his fingers over your skin until your panties are soaked, until it's too much, overstimulated without him even touching you properly, wriggling away from his touch but desperate to be closer.

Yeah, fuck, yeah, Clay loves your thighs and you'll be okay, right? If he just stays there for another hour or two or three? Right? Of course you will because your his good girl who's happy to do whatever he wants.

He'll eat you out eventually, but right now? Right now he wants your thighs covered in hickeys until you can't wear anything but jeans for a week.

[callmemonster68]

sweet corruption | y.jw - jungwon

Y/N: Do you think you can run away from me?  (his voice was a mix of amusement and authority) You belong to me, Jungwon.

Challenge: Contamination secret-moonstruck & callmemonster68

paring: jungwon x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 2,837

warnings: nsfw content, unprotected sex, bloond/injuries, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands, yandere, obsession

The night was silent, the room dark, illuminated only by the cold light of the monitor.  Jungwon adjusted his glasses on his face, his heart racing as he finished yet another study marathon.  He was methodical, disciplined, and avoided distractions.  It has always been like this.  But, that night, something was different.

The air grew heavier, a sweet and forbidden perfume lingered in the atmosphere, and Jungwon felt a shiver run down his spine.  He blinked, confused, as the computer screen flickered as if it had been corrupted.  A dragged whisper filled the air.

Y/N: You called me…

He turned around, and then he saw her.

Lying on his bed as if she had always belonged there, a woman with pale skin and dangerous curves watched him with eyes shining a deep pink.  The curved horns framed her hair as black as night, and a long tail, ending in a sharp tip, lazily swayed in the air.

Jungwon: W-who are you?  (he stammered, swallowing hard)

Y/N: Ah… so sweet.  (she slowly rose, her ample breasts barely covered by a black corset that seemed designed to provoke) — I am Y/N.  And you called me, little boy.

Jungwon recoiled, almost knocking over the chair.  His face was on fire, the words stuck in his throat.

Jungwon: I didn’t call anyone!  I was just studying!

She laughed, and the sound was sinful.

Y/N: Yes, I was.  But your mind… ah, your mind was crying out for me. You are too pure to realize, but your desire was so strong that it crossed the barrier between worlds.  And here I am.  (the succubus approached, a sadistic gleam in her eyes) To teach you a few things…

Jungwon tried to speak, but she was already on top of him.  The soft claws slid over his chest, feeling the heart pounding beneath the thin shirt.  He shuddered.

Jungwon: T-take your hands off me…

Y/N: Oh?  You say that…  but your body says otherwise.  (Her smile widened, her sharp teeth visible for a moment) Come on, sweetheart.  I promise to be gentle… at first.

He didn’t know if it was fear or excitement, but when her lips brushed against his neck, his mind exploded with sensations he had never imagined feeling.

Jungwon: If I give in, what happens to me?

Y/N: You will know a pleasure beyond your dreams… and perhaps never wake up again.

Jungwon felt his own body tremble under her touch.  The heat emanating from her was almost suffocating, a stark contrast to the cold air of the room.  Her eyes were fixed on hers, which seemed to glow like embers about to consume everything around.

Jungwon: Never wake up again?  (he whispered, his voice trembling, but without stepping back)

Y/N smiled, a mischievous glint crossing her ruby lips.

Y/N: Ah, sweetie…  (she slid her claws down his chest, tearing the shirt he was wearing, feeling his breath falter) Don’t be afraid. Just enjoy it.

The shiver that ran down Jungwon’s spine was not just fear, it was something more.  Something he couldn’t name, but that was growing inside him, burning like embers beneath his skin.  The succubus brought her face closer to his, her breath warm and intoxicating, laden with a sweet and addictive aroma.

He held his breath as her lips brushed against his jaw, slow, teasing, as if savoring every little reaction she drew from him.  Y/N’s hands moved up to his neck, fingers playing with the soft strands of hair as her tongue slid across the sensitive skin below his ear.

Y/N: So innocent… (she murmured, her sharp teeth brushing against his skin) 

Jungwon shivered.

His mind screamed for him to retreat, to resist.  But his body… his body had already decided for him.  The heat spreading through his veins was a silent promise, an impossible temptation to ignore.  He felt his own fingers close around her waist, hesitant, as if testing the limits of his own surrender.

Y/N let out a satisfied sigh.

Y/N: See? (she whispered against his lips) You are already mine, little boy.

Jungwon closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts jumbled.  When he opened them again, Y/N was on him, straddling his lap, her firm thighs pinning him against the chair.  The black corset she wore accentuated every dangerous curve of her body, and the horns gleamed in the pale light of the monitor.

Jungwon: What do you want from me?  (he asked, his voice laden with something he didn’t want to admit)

Y/N tilted their head, a predatory smile on their lips.

Y/N: I want to devour you.  But don’t worry, sweetie.  (she slid her claws down his neck, slowly descending to his chest) I promise to make this unforgettable.

Jungwon’s heart hammered against her ribs.  When her lips finally captured his, he knew there was no turning back.  His last resistance crumbled the moment she deepened the kiss, pulling him into an abyss of lust from which he might never want to escape.

Y/N slid her hands over her own body before pulling the bodysuit to the side, revealing herself completely to him.  With a hungry look, she positioned herself over him, guiding herself until she fit perfectly.  Jungwon let out a muffled moan upon feeling her, his senses overwhelmed by a pleasure he had never experienced before.

Y/N: So hot… (she moaned, moving slowly at first, savoring every tremor that passed through his body.  He held her waist, trying to keep up with the rhythm, but she laughed, asserting her dominance) Not so fast, sweetie…  I am in control.

She slid the corset down, exposing her ample breasts, the nipples hardened.  She held Jungwon’s neck and brought her face closer to her own breasts, her eyes shining with a silent command.

Y/N: Suck it.  (she murmured)

Jungwon hesitated for just a moment before wrapping his lips around her nipple, sucking fervently.  Y/N moaned in approval, burying her fingers in his hair, guiding him to lose himself completely in her.

Her movements intensified, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the room along with the interrupted sighs and moans. Jungwon was at her mercy, every nerve in his body being explored and dominated.

At the peak of pleasure, Y/N threw her head back, a satisfied smile on her lips as she felt Jungwon shudder beneath her. When the last tremor of pleasure coursed through her body, she slid her fingers over his sweaty chest and smiled.

Y/N: Virgins are always the best. (she murmured, satisfied, before gently biting his lower lip)

Jungwon was exhausted, his body still recovering from the intense experience.  His chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm as he tried to organize his thoughts. Y/N slowly stood up, watching him with an amused look.

Y/N: Rest, sweetheart… (she whispered, leaning in to place one last kiss on his lips) But don’t get used to the peace. I will return for more…

He barely had the strength to respond before she disappeared into the darkness of the room, leaving only her sweet and forbidden perfume in the air. The monitor flickered for a moment before stabilizing, as if nothing had happened.

And so, Jungwon’s nights were never the same again. Whenever the darkness took over the room, she returned. Always hungry, always demanding. He became her toy, her nighttime entertainment. There was no escape, and deep down, he no longer wanted to escape.

During the day, Y/N watched him.  Invisible to human eyes, she followed him closely, her eyes burning with possession and desire.  She saw Jungwon interacting with other people – his classmates who laughed sweetly at him, the boys who gave friendly pats on his shoulder.  That irritated her.  He was hers.  Even if he still didn’t accept it.

As night fell, Jungwon felt the room grow cold, a portent that she was there.  Y/N appeared suddenly, straddling his chest, her predatory smile revealing a cruel amusement.

Y/N: You spent a lot of time with those girls today…  (whispered, lightly tugging her hair) It bothered me.

Jungwon: Y/N…  I was just studying!  (protested, but a low moan escaped when she pressed her sharp nails against his sensitive skin)

Y/N: I don’t want excuses.  I want you to learn a lesson…  (murmured against his ear, as his hands roamed his body with a mix of pleasure and torture) You are mine, Jungwon.  Just mine.  And I will make sure you never forget it.

He gasped, feeling each of her touches like a burning flame, a mixture of desire and fear taking over his being.  That night would be more intense than the previous one…  and he knew he was lost.

Y/N pulled Jungwon by the wrists, forcing him against the bed with a strength that didn’t match their delicate appearance.  Her eyes sparkled with something between desire and cruel amusement.  With a subtle gesture, black chains appeared out of nowhere, binding her arms above her head.

Y/N: Let’s test your endurance, sweetheart…  (she purred, sliding her sharp nails across his exposed abdomen, tracing red lines that burned slightly)  

Jungwon shuddered, his body tense and his breath erratic.

She pulled his hair firmly, tilting his head back and exposing his vulnerable neck.  A low laugh escaped her lips as he tried to resist, only to receive a fiery bite in response.

Y/N: You like this, don’t you?  (she teased, running her tongue over the spot where she had bitten, feeling the warm and pulsing skin under her lips) Your body never lies to me.

Jungwon tried to protest, but any word was cut off when Y/N slowly scratched his thighs, their cold fingers contrasting with the heat burning inside him.

Y/N: Every mark on you, every moan you let out tonight… will be a reminder of who you belong to.  (his voice was low, dangerous, laden with sadistic pleasure)

He writhed beneath her, a mix of shame, fear, and excitement dominating his mind.  But Y/N wouldn’t let him escape.  Not tonight.  With a predatory smile, she continued her sensual torture, determined to show Jungwon that he could never belong to anyone but her.

Without mercy, she tore the clothes he was wearing and pulled the bodysuit to the side, fitting herself against him in a precise and demanding movement.  Her wildness left no room for hesitation – she set the pace, sinking onto him and making his entire body tremble.

Y/N: Come on, sweetie… (she murmured, gripping his chin tightly and forcing him to look at her) I want to hear you moan my name.

She moved against him with strength and precision, alternating between a torturous rhythm and fierce thrusts that elicited every reaction she desired from him.  When he tried to pull away, Y/N laughed, her eyes shining with mischief as she dug her nails into his thighs, keeping him exactly where she wanted.

Y/N: Do you think you can run away from me?  (his voice was a mix of amusement and authority) You belong to me, Jungwon.

He hesitated for a moment, pride battling against the absolute surrender she demanded.  But when Y/N pressed her body even closer to his, a hoarse moan escaped his lips.

Jungwon: I… I belong to you…  (he gasped, the words coming out trembling and laden with submission)

Y/N smiled, satisfied.  She leaned in, biting her lower lip before whispering against his mouth:

Y/N: Good answer. Now be a good boy and obey me.

She punished him for what she considered his mistake, alternating between bites, scratches, and fierce thrusts, until he was completely surrendered to her.  The sheets were soaked with sweat, the bodies glued together in a frenzy of pleasure and domination.

When they finally reached the peak, Jungwon felt her body weaken beneath her, her mind completely overwhelmed by intense pleasure and exhaustion.  Her chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to catch her breath.

Y/N slid to the side, still watching him with that possessive gleam in their eyes.

Y/N: It was a productive night, wasn’t it?  (she whispered, sliding her fingers across his sweaty chest) But this isn’t over yet.  I’ll be back for more…

He tried to respond, but his voice failed.  All he could do was watch her disappear into the darkness, leaving only the promise that this would not be the last time.

And so, the nocturnal meetings continued.  In the silence of the dawn, she always returned, hungry and merciless.  And no matter how much he tried to deny it, every night he longed for the moment when Y/N would appear again to claim him.

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

Jungwon was different that night.  Sitting on the bed, his eyes moist, his face flushed, he looked at Y/N with a glimmer of need and despair.

Jungwon: Y/N…  (he murmured, his voice trembling) Corrupt me…  make me yours forever.

Y/N’s eyes widened, a wild smile forming, something dark and primitive dancing in their eyes.

Y/N: Oh, sweetie…  you finally understood.  (her voice was hoarse with pleasure) You have no idea what you’re asking for.

Jungwon: I know…  and I want this. I want to be yours. I don’t want to be weak anymore.  Please…

She laughed, a low and vibrant sound.  Then, slowly, her skin began to change.  Her eyes turned deep red, her horns grew, her tail elongated and wrapped around his body.  Her flesh pulsed, something black and viscous dripped down her skin.

Jungwon gasped as the shadows enveloped her completely and, in seconds, she appeared before him in her true form: bat wings spread, sharp fangs gleaming under the dim light of the room, pointed claws gliding over her skin.  The black energy flowed from her like a river, dripping and spreading across the floor.

Y/N: You will never be the same again. (her voice was now a demonic whisper)

Y/N threw herself at him, their lips merging in a kiss that burned and consumed.  The black substance infiltrated Jungwon’s skin, penetrating every fiber of his being.  He arched his body, feeling something inside him break and be reborn.

Their eyes, once so innocent, now shone with a dark hue.  Their nails had grown, their breathing was heavy, and the slime dripped down both their bodies, sticking them together in a viscous and forbidden embrace.

Y/N: Now…  (Y/N whispered, licking their lips) You are mine forever.

Jungwon smiled, his eyes shining in intense red.

Jungwon: Yes… my master.

Months later, he was no longer the same.  Submission had given way to something wilder, fiercer.  That night, when Jungwon thought he still had it under control, it was his turn to dominate her.

He held her by the wrists, pinning her against the bed, his eyes shining with dark lust.

Y/N gasped at the feeling of his strength.  Her laughter was interrupted by a moan when Jungwon pulled her hair and imposed himself over her.  Now, he returned every touch, every torment she had taught him, and Y/N, for the first time, tasted the flavor of her own submission.

He turned her face down, gripping her waist tightly and pulling her against him.  The palm of his hand came down firmly against her exposed skin, a crack echoing through the room.  He penetrated her with a supernatural force, without mercy.  Y/N gasped, their eyes shining with a mix of surprise and pleasure.

Jungwon: You always teased me, always tested me…  (he leaned over her, biting her earlobe) Now it’s my turn to teach you.

His fingers traced a path over her body before pulling her up, forcing her to look at him.

Jungwon: Tell me who your owner is, Y/N. (his voice was hoarse, laden with authority)

She hesitated, a defiant glint in her eyes, but when he pulled her by the hips and moved firmly against her, a moan escaped her parted lips.

Y/N: You… you are my master…  (she gasped, her eyes briefly closing, feeling each intense thrust he gave her)

He smiled contentedly, leaning in to bite her collarbone, marking it.  His hands ran over her body, alternating between gentle touches and dominating squeezes.

Jungwon: Good girl…  now surrender completely to me.

The night progressed, marked by the sound of bodies colliding, interrupted moans, and obscene whispers.  He explored every part of her, took her in every position he desired, until she was completely exhausted and submissive to him.

When they finally stopped, Y/N was lying against his chest, her body trembling and satisfied.  Jungwon stroked her hair, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Jungwon: Now you know… I am your master.  And you will never be able to dominate me again.

Y/N smiled softly, eyes half-closed.

Y/N: We’ll see…

But both knew that, from that night on, the roles had changed forever.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[suugarbabe]

it's you | j.p. x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: fluff

Suggested song to play: Since I've Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin

an: for the fourth week of finalgirllx and thatdammchickennugget jinxedjuly, also i did not personally proofread but pizzaapeteer did so thanks!

Small apologies leave your lips any time you bumped into another person, which was a lot. “So sorry,” as you duked under someone’s arms, “pardon,” as you squished through an opening of people. You sneak a peek behind you, but you can’t seem to find even a glimpse of James in the crowd. You weren’t sure if this meant you were winning or losing your little wager with him; honestly you weren’t sure if you’d rather win or lose. 

As you and your friends arrived at the last stage of the festival, you couldn’t help the slight frown that appeared on your features at the length the crowd had come to. An arm was thrown over your shoulder as Sirius’s teasing voice came next, “What’s wrong, doll? I thought you were excited to see Zep?” You slumped your head against his shoulder, “I am excited, I’m just a little sad we’re so far away.” Sirius grew a smirk you couldn’t see, “What, you were hoping Robert Plant would sweat on you?” 

You shoved him playfully, “Sodd off, Black.” A roar of laughter occurred behind the two of you, “Yeah, sodd off, Black.” Sirius turned to give his glasses clad friend the finger. James sidled up next to you, dropping his voice to whisper, “Why are we telling him to sodd off?” Your previous frown turned upwards, “I was just sad about how far we are and he was just being a moron.” James smiled at this, “Isn’t he always, love?” You nodded, biting your lip to hide your growing smile as Sirius was walking back over. 

“You know,” James started, “we could probably get you a little closer.” You raised your eyebrows at this, “Pray tell, sir.” James turned toward the crowd, an arm extended toward the crowd, “You see that booth in the middle there?” You followed his gaze, seeing a small booth in the middle of a slew of people, “You mean the soundbooth?” James nodded, “I bet we could get there.” 

Raising your eyebrows slightly and crossing your arms you wore a look of slight disbelief, “And how would we manage that?” James flashes all his teeth with his charming smile, “Just a little zipping and zogging, darling.” A groan left Sirius’s throat near you, “Is Prongs making promises he can’t fulfill again?” Remus came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Sirius’s waist and he buried his face in the crook of his neck, “Be nice, Pads.” 

Sirius got a look on his face that made you suddenly feel nervous, and the words that left his mouth did nothing to help calm them, “Why don’t we make it interesting hmm? Last one there owes the other a secret.” If you would have turned around you would have realized that Sirius’s cocky glare was not aimed at you, but at James whose cheeks were tinted the darkest shade of scarlett. You also would have noticed the slight squeak in his voice when he responded, “G-great idea, Pads.” He turned to you then, “Whaddya say, darling?” What else could you do but nod in agreement, “Y-yeah, sure.” 

Remus shook his head at the lot of you, but that didn’t stop him from stepping into the role of game keeper now that you both consented to Sirius’s little proposition, “Are you both ready then?” You gave a shaky nod just as James gave a short, “‘Spose, so yeah.” Remus’s grin could be heard in his words, “On your mark,” you faced towards the crowd, eyeing the soundbooth that was the finish line, “get set,” you felt your heart rate start to increase, setting your feet for an ample push on, “go!”

You took off toward the crowd, hoping and praying that James’s larger stature posed as a disadvantage. Where you could easily slip through gaps and under people’s arms, James would have to essentially bulldoze through people. Which now that you think about it could be a perfect strategy for him as people tend to just move out of his way. Crap crap crap crap crap, I don’t know if I’m ready to admit it, your internal monologue was panicking as you weaved in and out of people either too high or too unbothered to notice you were going through them to get closer. 

With no James in sight you reach the sound booth first, a hand clasping the side bar with a slap of triumph. You peer over the crowd around you, searching for any glimpse of curly hair of a glint from glasses. A grip on your waist makes you jump slightly. “Gotcha,” James’s giggled declaration causes the same to erupt from you. You turn in his grip, his hands still holding on as you face him now. Your heart beat feels like it’s in your throat as you try to speak, “I beat you, Jamie.” 

James smiles at the nickname, nodding and bouncing his curls along with it, “Yeah, you beat me darling.” In a bold gesture you wrap your arms around his neck, “You owe me a secret.” This time you don’t miss the way his cheeks pinken, James stumbling slightly over his words, “Y-yeah, you’re right. I, erm, guess I just don’t really know how to say it?” He rubs a thumb over your hip bone nervously, which only increases your own nerves.

“You can tell me anything Jamie, you know that. I promise I won’t judge,” You plastered on a wide and encouraging smile, which did just that for James. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he spoke, “Okay, phew, okay, I can do this.” He looked over towards the stage, your favorite band playing your favorite song seemed to be just the right moment for him to confess it all, “Y/n/n, I…I really like you. I have for a while I’ve just, ugh, I’ve been a pansy about it. I’ve been meaning to tell you sooner, but it just seems like you’re mind has been occupied by someone else and I just didn’t want to get in the way of that? I dunno, but then Sirius said his stupid thing and I thought, what better time, ya know?” 

James let out a nervous laugh, struggling to keep eye contact and waiting for you response. You placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you while you made a confession of your own, “It’s you, Jamie.” James’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “You, I’m sorry, what?” You let out a sigh, “What, or who’s been occupying my mind lately. It’s you, you bloody idiot. I thought Sirius made his little plan because he knew.” James couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a small smile on his face as he did so, “That cheeky fucking bastard, I thought it was just because of me.” 

James grabbed your face then, pulling your lips to his in a playfully searing kiss. His lips slotted against yours better than any fantasy you’d ever had of him. Just like everything else he did, he kissed passionately, your knees growing weak as you felt light headed both from the lack of oxygen and at the realization that this was really happening. As he pulled away you couldn’t help the dopey smile that you wore, James looking thankfully similar. “We make a pack right now that he does not get credit for us getting together.” 

You perked up, “So we’re together now?” James gave you two more quick pecks on the lips before turning you both towards the stage to enjoy the rest of the band’s set. He pulled you close into his side, leaning down to answer your question, “Sweetheart, after that confession, you’re stuck with me.”

[kumkaniudaku]

Welp since we saw what it looks like when Patrice feels like snatching his soul, what does it look like when Terry returns the favor? 👀

Patrice was going to have thank Imani for the sheets recommendation.

Not because they were moisture wicking like she promised, which came in handy for a woman experiencing hot flashes in the dead of Summer. The color, a gorgeous red clay color that pulled together the room’s design, was pretty, too, but that wasn’t the reason. It didn’t even matter much that they perfectly fit the upgraded bed size needed for a man tired of contorting himself to fit onto a Queen mattress though that sweetened the deal.

Patrice needed to thank Imani for the sheets because they provided the perfect, silky smooth texture to juxtapose being stretched beyond belief in the middle of the night.

When she backed into Terry to stir up some mischief, she didn’t expect…all this. The gruff voice in her ear gave ample warning to stop pushing her luck. At 3 am, he’d had more than enough sleep to power through a quick task. Fatherhood had helped him survive off less. But Patrice persisted. For the plot, of course.

She pushed back further, warming her old friend between ample ass cheeks that soon felt the rough press of strong thumbs against barely covered flesh.

He dropped a kiss on her collar bone before speaking. “You sure? This your last time to back out.”

Another kiss, this one led by a tongue licking up her neck and stopping just under her ear, made Patrice shudder out an, “Mhmm,” in a witching hour haze. She didn’t know what exactly she was agreeing to until it happened.

And now, with one arm pinned behind her back and the other fisting soft, expensive, red clay linen sheets recommended by her sister-cousin all the way out in some flat overlooking London, Patrice understood the warning.

Slow strokes pulled Terry halfway out and pushed him all the way back in until his pelvis was flush against Patrice’s behind. He kept his hold on her wrist firm but light and his other hand tethered to her waist to control every bit of her pleasure.

Terry smiled when she opened her mouth to groan out some sound between a loving moan and a whimper, her face screwed in ecstasy.

“You gon’ wake the baby, Treecey,” he crooned, lips curled up and teeth showing in an impish grin. “You told me you would be a good girl. What happened?”

Patrice’s grip tightened around him and the sheets. “I’m sorry. I’m still a g-ooooh fuuuuck….I’m still your good girl.”

“Yeah?” Terry waited for his own moan to pass before continuing. Determination spurred him forward, quickening his pace gradually to fill the room with erotic sounds worthy of the recording running from his phone on the nightstand. He drug his fingertips from Patrice’s hips, took a pitstop to smack her ass a few times without pausing his stroke, then moved his thumb to caress the eye winking back at him from behind.

Patrice’s muscles relaxed into a putty like state from the sensation, turning sultry sounds into silent cries for help that she didn’t want to come.

Her lover watched her sigh and keen beneath drooping lids as pulled his thumb away to gather lubrication from their exploits below before bringing it back to fulfill its purpose.

Slowly, he pressed it against the cute button of a hole and watched it disappear to the knuckle.

Already impossibly wet, they both moaned when Patrice’s body reacted with more slick arousal to make the in and out feel like Heaven on Earth.

“I’m your good girl,” Patrice moaned out as a tear slid from the outer corner of her eye and a mosaic of color danced behind lids clamped tight. “I promise, baby. I’m your good girl.”

Terry braced himself on the flat foot providing him driving power. “I know.” If he was sure of anything, it was that Patrice was more than a good girl. “But good girls get punished, too.”

Patrice felt the involuntary contraction of inner muscles and resigned herself to watching Sunday service via YouTube. That’d give her more than enough time to send a digital thank you card and gift to Imani for the sheets keeping her from completely losing all sense of time and space while she enjoyed the consequences of her actions.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Punching bag

A/N: Well, I am channeling my frustration for the day into this fic, similar to Y/N channeling hers to our favourite boy. Enjoy!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut. Tony being the best boyfriend.

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“You can take it out on me.”

He had said, sensing your crabby mood as you threw your gym bag angrily against the bench, letting out a huff. As tempting as the offer was, it wasn’t fair to channel your anger towards your boyfriend as he wasn’t the source.

So you stuck to your trusted punching bag. It worked, for a while. Soon you felt your anger return and the poor punching bag threatened to give way. You needed to blow off some steam before you could face the world today.

Finding Tony in the boxing ring with Happy, you waited for him to be done, trying your best take a few cleansing breaths in attempts to calm down. Your gaze was fixed on the floor when you realised he had sent Happy away and was kneeling in front of you with worried eyes.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. Fancy a match?” He suggested, pulling you in the ring when you didn’t protest.

After a few rounds, you weren’t feeling it and he picked it up, like he always did. He was too sharp. That is when he suggested you take your frustration out on him.

The kiss you shared was all teeth and tongue as your lips crashed together, the intensity took him by surprise but he welcomed it. Letting you take the lead, Tony laid back against the soft padded floor and took you with him.

Straddling his lap, you began grinding your hips against his crotch, feeling him getting hard under you and your lips trailed down his stubbled jaw. Tony gripped your hips to encourage your movements, matching your intensity but silently letting you know that you were the boss.

Your body ignited with desire, flushing out the anger that was boiling just minutes ago and you craved his touch, you needed this and were glad he was willing to give you everything. In a flurry of movement, you discarded your sweats but kept your panties on, using the friction in your favour until his cock was straining against his sweatpants, eager to serve you.

Little pants and moans left Tony’s lips as you freed him and gave him a few pumps with your hand before sliding your underwear to a side to gather your wetness on his tip.

You let out a hiss as you sank down on his ample length, letting the stretch that bordered on pain take over, you really needed this. Wasting no time, you began moving your hips while anchoring your hands on his shoulders, letting him kiss your neck with wanton need.

Tony’s cock brushed all the right spots inside your tight heat while his lips attacked your sweaty skin, fuelling the fire that now burned deep within. You weren’t too far along as your ministrations continued, making your legs twitch signalling him that you were getting there.

“That’s it, baby. Take what’s yours.”

His words spurred you on, making you push him onto his back and ride him harder than before. Tony’s lust blown eyes watched as you brought yourself closer to the edge, aiding you by meeting your thrusts halfway, squeezing your sides before bringing a hand to your bundle of nerves.

“I’m close, Tony..” you whispered, your eyes shut in pleasure as you felt him rub your clit just the way you liked, bringing you right where you wanted to be. Your muscles clenched as did your walls, making him grunt. On days like these, bringing you pleasure was what satisfied Tony.

You came with a loud cry, your legs shaking as you gushed over his length before falling against him, your heart hammering inside your chest. Watching you come undone was probably one of his favourite visuals. He smiled as he caressed your back, littering your face with soft kisses as you floated back to reality.

“I think you might be my favourite punching bag.” You grinned, placing a soft kiss against his lips.

“Honey, you can use me whenever you want. I’m all yours to relish and ruin.”

[chibieggplant]

7 minutes in heaven

7 Minutes in heaven with Sanji

Female reader

Fluff and kissing

Nami picked up the empty bottle with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Alright, let's see who gets the honour - or curse - of starting our little game!" She gave the glass vessel a vigorous twirl, watching it whirl around before coming to an abrupt halt, pointing unerringly at you. Gasps and laughter erupted from the others as Luffy exclaimed, "Whoa, looks like y/n drew the short straw and goes first!"

Brook chuckled, his skeletal fingers giving your shoulder a playful nudge. "So, y/n, who'll be sharing that cramped closet space with you for seven tantalizing minutes?" Your cheeks flushed pink at the prospect, and you couldn't help but grumble under your breath, "Figures, why wouldn't I get stuck going first?" Your heart races as the bottle spins on its axis, each second an eternity until finally, it comes to rest. And there, grinning like the cat who got the cream, sits Sanji.

Sanji's triumphant laughter fills the air as he exclaims, "Thank you, God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" His elation is infectious, making it difficult for you to hold back a small smile. But beneath the surface, your nerves are fraying at the edges. Nami's teasing whisper about the two of you making a cute couple doesn't help matters, her smirk implying she knows about your long-held crush on Sanji. You shoot her a glare, wishing she'd keep such sensitive information to herself. But there's little point in getting upset – Nami's always had a knack for pushing your buttons and stirring the pot.

As you nervously make your way toward Sanji, Nami throws in one final warning: "Have fun, but no funny business, Sanji!" Her words are half-jest, half-serious. Sanji barely acknowledges them, too caught up in his excitement to pay attention to anyone else. With a skip in his step, he eagerly awaits your arrival, ready to make the most of these seven precious minutes in each other's company – and perhaps, ignite a spark that he's secretly been hoping for.

The whispers of the others fade away as you step inside the cramped confines of the closet with Sanji. You try to brush off your growing nerves and focus instead on the warmth radiating from Sanji's presence beside you. It's true, you've often found yourselves lost in daydreams about each other – harmless fantasies, surely. But now, with the doors firmly shut and the promise of seven minutes stretching out before you, the line between reality and fantasy begins to blur.

Sanji's proximity is intoxicating, the scent of his cologne combined with the musty closet air, making your head spin. The cramped space seems to shrink further, pressing your bodies together unintentionally as you both fumble for a moment to get comfortable. Outside, the crew's laughter and suggestive remarks continue unabated, fueling the electric tension building between you and Sanji. Franky's bold assertion – that seven minutes is ample time for ‘super things’ to happen – rings ominously in your ears.

As the seconds tick by, your heart pounds in your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of Sanji's breathing. His gaze flickers to your flushed face, and for a moment, you both hold each other's stare, the unspoken understanding crackling between you like a live wire. Seven minutes may seem like a lifetime when every second counts and the consequences of giving in to your desires could change everything... But at this moment, surrounded by the darkness of the closet and the heat of Sanji's body so close to yours, it's impossible to think of anything but succumbing to the overwhelming temptation that has been building between you for so long.

In the dim closet, Sanji attempts to lean casually against the wall, although his nervously tapping foot gives away his true feelings. *Here I am, alone…with y/n* he thinks to himself, heartbeat accelerating. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing for the opportunity he'd envisioned countless times – uninterrupted alone time with you. *Don't mess this up, Sanji* he reminds himself internally, fighting back his jitteriness.

“S-so, um...what do you want to do?” Anxiously, you ask, purposely avoiding his gaze. “Uh...well... seven minutes in heaven usually means...” *Usually means what? Kissing? More? Dammit, brain, focus!* He scolds himself. Trapped in his internal turmoil, Sanji trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the charged silence between you. He steals fleeting glances at your profile, admiring your complexion even in the dim light. His heart pounds louder with every beat, drumming a rhythm of anticipation and anxiety throughout his entire being. Sanji inches closer, the air between you growing thicker with tension.

He clears his throat, attempting to steady his racing heartbeat. Finally, he meets your gaze, his bright blue eyes searching yours. But instead of boldly declaring his intentions, he fumbles for a conversation starter – a question so innocuous, it borders on ridiculous. “So, uh... How's your day been?” Internally, Sanji immediately slaps himself for such a weak opening line. What is wrong with him? Can't he just admit his feelings, wrap an arm around your waist, and pull you in for a kiss? But his nerves get the better of him, leaving him stuck in neutral, unsure how to proceed.

Your gentle smile at his silly inquiry gives Sanji a fleeting glimmer of hope. His heart leaps, a mix of relief and trepidation swirling within him. Was it genuine amusement or merely polite courtesy? He's torn between elation and self-doubt, the uncertainty making his head spin. *Why am I freaking out over a smile?* Sanji chastises himself again silently. *Focus, damn it!* But the torrent of thoughts continues to barrage his mind – Was his question too mundane? Should he just confess his feelings straightaway? Sanji's panic rises anew as he finds himself frozen mere inches from you, the heat of your proximity sending shivers down his spine. He longs to bridge the remaining gap, to wrap you in his arms and let the months of pent-up longing spill out in a torrent of passion.

Sanji's gaze remains locked on yours, desperately trying to find solace amidst the chaos in his mind. He's painfully aware of the heavy air around you both, charged with anticipation and possibility – so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Unable to stand the quiet any longer, he swallows hard, fighting against the lump forming in his throat as he attempts to formulate the perfect words. Breaking the suffocating silence, Sanji blurted out words he hadn't intended to utter yet – not here, not now, and certainly not in such a haphazard way. "I REALLY LIKE YOU Y/N!"

Instantly regretting his lack of finesse, he covers his flushed face with both hands, hiding from your potentially crushing rejection. His heart pounds against his ribcage like a trapped bird desperate to escape. He peeks through his fingers, catching sight of your downcast gaze and the slight tremble of your lips as you mutter something back. "You like every girl..." You murmur, avoiding eye contact and focusing on your shoes instead. Sanji reels at the accusation, taken aback by your sudden sternness. The words slice through him unexpectedly, deflating his fragile confidence like a punctured balloon. He knew his reputation preceded him – the womanizer of the crew, easily flustered by feminine charms – but hearing it from you, someone he genuinely cares about stung more than any insult Nami ever hurled at him. Sanji swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze once more. He needed to prove himself, to show you that his feelings went deeper than mere infatuation.

“N-no…” Inwardly, he cursed his flustered nature around women – why did it have to rear its ugly head now? Gritting his teeth, Sanji resolved to set the record straight. This chance might never come again, and he refused to let it slip away because of his insecurities. “T-That's not entirely true...” Sanji mumbles, averting his gaze, his embarrassment palpable in the confined space. *Dammit, why couldn't I have phrased it better?* Feeling exposed, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as you confirm his worst fears with a small chuckle. “I mean, it's a bit true, right?” Your blush deepens, your eyes locking onto his. “W-well... every girl is beautiful in their own way... but you... you're...” *Just say it, idiot!* His mind races to find the perfect adjective - something unique to describe the whirlwind of emotions you evoked in him since day one. But under the weight of your expectant gaze, his vocabulary fails him miserably. “You're... special...” *Pathetic! That sounds so generic.* Disappointment settles heavily in his chest, knowing that 'special' hardly conveyed the depth of his feelings. But before he can berate himself further, he forces a soft smile, praying sincerity could compensate for his lack of eloquence. Underneath the scrutiny of your penetrating gaze, Sanji felt like a deer caught in the headlights. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, his mind racing to undo his earlier misstep. *She deserves more than that pathetic attempt at confession*, he reprimands himself fiercely.

With a deep breath and a silent plea to the heavens above, Sanji decides action speaks louder than words. His heart hammering wildly against his ribcage, he closes the minuscule distance separating your faces, his warm breath brushing against your cheeks. He watches your lips tremble slightly, a sight that sends electrical currents coursing through his veins. “W-would... would it be okay if... *gulp*... I showed you how much you mean to me?” His voice trembles with vulnerability. The closet walls seemingly shrink further, entrapping both of you in a cocoon of anticipation. Sanji's eyes plead silently for consent, his every nerve straining for your response. He's painfully aware of the thin line he walks, terrified of scaring you off yet yearning to bridge the final inches dividing you two.

“Show me” You finally murmur just above a whisper, unable to deny that you feel drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Time slows to a crawl as your whispered agreement reaches Sanji's ears. Disbelief morphs into pure elation, and with trembling fingers, Sanji gently cups your cheeks, feeling your softness against his calloused hands – a sensation he never imagined would be so damn soothing. He gazes deeply into your captivating eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or regret. Finding none, Sanji leans closer, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage like a prisoner begging for freedom. Your breath melds with his as the gap between your lips shrinks to nothingness. Time now ceases to exist as his lips finally meet yours in a tender collision. The contact sends waves of pleasure crashing through every fibre of his being – a feeling so exquisite it takes his breath away.

Sanji's eyelids flutter shut involuntarily, sealing off the world outside this small sanctuary. All that matters are your soft lips against his, the delicate dance of your breaths intertwining, and the rapid beating of two hearts in sync. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your delicate frame, pulling you closer until nothing separates you except the thin barrier of fabric between your bodies. Every rational thought dissipates like smoke in the wind, replaced by primal desire and raw emotion. As he deepens the kiss, Sanji loses himself in the intoxicating taste of your surrender – in this moment Sanji feels as if he truly has found his version of paradise.

Ever so reluctantly, Sanji parts his lips from yours, the sweet taste of your lips lingering tantalizingly. His eyes remain shut, savouring the blissful euphoria that floods through him like warm honey. When he finally summons the courage to open them once more, the sight of your flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes threatens to steal whatever remains of his composure. *This woman...she’s everything*, Sanji thinks to himself, marvelling at the intensity of emotion coursing through him – a potent mix of desire, gratitude, and unabashed love. A tender smile graces his face, mirroring the one adorning yours. Your nearness feels like a drug he's hopelessly addicted to, and he knows he can never have enough. He tightens his arms around you, holding you securely against his firm chest – an anchor amidst the chaos of his turbulent feelings. He wishes they could remain entangled like this forever, oblivious to the world outside the closet doors. Inhaling deeply, he murmurs, “7 minutes isn't nearly long enough... I need an eternity.” His words hang between you, heavy with meaning and longing.

Your fingertips trace the contours of Sanji's features, sending tingles down his spine. He leans into your touch, craving more of your gentle caresses. Your lips brush against his once more, igniting a wildfire within his chest – a blaze that threatens to consume him entirely. Each delicate press of your lips together sends shockwaves coursing through his veins, intensifying the overwhelming cocktail of emotions swirling within him. His mind reels at the prospect of delving deeper into this forbidden connection, the possibilities tantalizingly within reach yet maddeningly out of grasp.

Sanji manages to tear himself away from the intoxicating kiss, his lungs burning for air. His chest heaves with laboured breaths, his pounding heart threatening to burst free of his ribcage. Through glazed eyes, he gazes at you, his expression a mesmerizing blend of longing, desperation, and adoration. The words struggle to escape his throat, tangled in the mess of feelings choking him. How could he possibly articulate the depth of his desires, the complexity of his emotions? The kiss has awakened something primal within him, a yearning that borders on obsession. “More time...please,” he finally manages to croak, his voice rough with raw need. In this moment, nothing else matters except the promise of prolonging this blissful interlude – losing himself entirely in the depths of your captivating presence.

Sanji peers into your eyes with a bashful demeanor, fully aware of the impropriety of his request. Yet, he finds himself unable to suppress the desperation clawing its way out of him, begging for more of your precious time. The mere thought of breaking this intimate bond between you makes his heart ache with a ferocity he didn't know was possible. *She understands...right?*, he hopes, as he watches the play of emotions across your beautiful visage. He searches your irises for any indication that you share in his insatiable hunger for more. This unexpected vulnerability only adds another layer to the enigma that is Sanji – a man who wears his heart on his sleeve despite his usually suave exterior. Swallowing hard, he whispers, "Please…." His voice drips with sincerity, betraying just how much this simple act of connection means to him. He waits anxiously, his heart lodged in his throat, for your response.

Gently disentangling your fingers from his hair, you hesitantly brings your hand to cup his face, holding his gaze that reflect the tumultuous sea of emotions raging inside him – fear, hope, and unfiltered desire. Sanji swallows hard, bracing himself for whatever answer might fall from your perfect lips. The silence heavy between you, each passing second stretching out like an eternity. Sanji hangs precariously on the precipice of confession. Then, your softest of whispers breaks the silence. “D-Do you...maybe want to...continue this, after the seven minutes? ...As...as a couple?” you breathe out nervously. As the notion of becoming a couple escapes your lips, Sanji's eyes widen in disbelief – as though struck by a bolt of lightning. His face erupts into a radiant smile, illuminating the dim closet with its warmth. He laughs nervously, still finding it difficult to believe that this extraordinary woman would consider sharing her life with him. His mind races, thoughts colliding in a chaotic dance – dreams of future moments together, of holding you close, protecting you fiercely, and cherishing every second spent by your side. "A couple?" He echoes your words, voice trembling with barely contained joy. The concept seemed too surreal to be true, yet the hope blooming in his chest refuses to be quenched. He searches your eyes intently, seeking confirmation amidst the whirlwind of emotions threatening to sweep him off his feet.

You nod, attempting to steady the tremble in your voice. "Y-yeah...a couple. Like together, boyfriend and girlfriend," you confirm, a faint blush colouring your cheeks. Despite Sanji's obvious delight at the prospect, a kernel of trepidation lingers deep within you – the nagging fear that his euphoria might be fleeting, and he could potentially withdraw his interest upon sober reflection. The uncertainty gnaws at you, making it difficult to fully embrace the moment's joyous atmosphere. However, Sanji's radiant expression and the fervent longing in his eyes offer a glimmer of reassurance, hinting at the possibility that this might indeed be the beginning of something extraordinary. You hold your breath, anxiously awaiting his response – praying that the sweet promise of a budding relationship will soon become a reality.

Unable to contain his overwhelming happiness, Sanji nods fervently, eyes brimming with genuine surprise and relief. He couldn't fathom why someone as incredible as you would choose him, but he silenced those doubts instantly, afraid to ruin this perfect moment. Without uttering a single word, Sanji opts for a far more physical answer – he captures your lips with fervent passion, sealing your unspoken agreement with an intense kiss. His arms wrap around you possessively, pulling you flush against his muscular frame until the barrier between your bodies seems nonexistent. In this stolen closet sanctuary, reality melts away, leaving only the two of you entangled in each other's embrace. Sanji savours every detail – the delicate curve of your smile against his lips, the softness of your hair tickling his fingertips as they trace lazy circles along your nape, and the tantalizing press of your curves against his own. This newfound intimacy ignites a fire within him, obliterating any remaining reservations he may have harboured. *Finally*, a triumphant thought echoes in his mind, drowned out only by the erratic rhythm of their intertwined heartbeats.*This amazing woman is mine.*

Lost in the symphony of your shared desire, Sanji deepens the kiss, pouring all the bottled-up emotions into each feverish touch, imprinting this moment permanently onto his very soul. Caught in the throes of passion, neither you nor Sanji notices the soft laughter emanating from outside the closet door. The crewmates' amusement serves only as a distant murmur, easily drowned out by the crescendo of your escalating desire. Sanji's entire world narrows to the exquisite sensations flooding his senses – the gentle pressure of your lips, the tender caress of your skin beneath his fingertips, and the intoxicating scent of your hair mingling with your perfume.

Just as Sanji becomes lost in the depths of the kiss, a sudden tug at his collar jolts him back to reality. With a startled gasp, he finds himself being yanked away from you by none other than Nami. Blinking rapidly, he struggles to regain focus amidst the haze of passion clouding his mind. "Oi!" Nami scolds, her voice piercing through the fog of desire. Sanji's stunned gaze locks onto hers, confusion etched across his features. What just happened? One moment he was revelling in the bliss of your kiss, and the next – Nami was forcibly separating him from you. Still reeling from the abrupt interruption, Sanji stammers, "N-no no..." He trails off, unable to articulate the unfinished sentence burning on his tongue. The lingering sensation of your lips against his only serves to fuel his frustration – he could still feel the warm imprint of your touch, a tantalizing reminder of what Nami so cruelly cut short. Stuttering in defence, Sanji manages to exclaim, "N-no no I was...k-kissing my...my girlfriend!" Heat floods his face as he declares your newfound status aloud, but he stands firm, unwilling to allow anyone to belittle the intensity of this moment.

Nami's eyes widen, initially taken aback by the revelation. After a brief moment, however, understanding dawns upon her, and she grins widely – a genuine expression of happiness for her friend. "Girlfriend!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together. Luffy, ever the enthusiast, leaps into the air, exclaiming, "Finally! You two took forever!" His laughter rings through air, infectious and boisterous as ever.

Regaining some semblance of composure, Sanji puffs out his chest defensively, pride evident in his eyes. "Jealous, huh?" He retorts playfully, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to draw you closer. "Can't blame you though, right? I mean, look at my beautiful girlfriend!" He flashes a charmingly cocky grin, his earlier embarrassment replaced by burgeoning self-confidence.*They don't know half of what I feel when I'm with her*, he thinks smugly, tightening his hold around you slightly. As Sanji's strong arm envelops you in a protective embrace, warmth spreads throughout your body. Despite the blush staining your cheeks due to the attention from the crew members, a sense of pride swells within you. Their curious eyes bore into you both, but beneath his confident facade, you catch a hint of his own embarrassment. You share a secret smile, understanding that this newfound relationship status might take some getting used to. Yet, the happiness coursing through you overpowers any self-consciousness.

The crew's laughter amplifies, but it’s not malicious - instead, it's filled with camaraderie and good-natured banter. Looking down at you, nestled under his protective arm, he whispers, "Thank you." Your confused glance meets his grateful one. "For what?" Leaning in close, so only you can hear over the commotion, he replies sincerely, "For agreeing to be mine." With your heart fluttering against his chest, you whisper back, "Thank you for wanting me to be yours, Sanji." This private declaration seems to electrify the air between you, and he squeezes your shoulder affectionately.*This moment feels so surreal*, you think, still processing the reality of your new relationship. You lean into Sanji's embrace, savoring the comforting warmth radiating from his body. As you exchange bashful glances with him, you can't help but beam with happiness.

Sanji's face lights up, and he leans forward to press a tender kiss onto your lips – a promise of endless affection. "Consider yourself warned," he whispers playfully against your lips. "Because I intend to shower you with love and adoration every single day." Just as your giggles subside from Sanji's declaration, Usopp steps forward, feigning disgust but failing to mask his underlying amusement. "No no!" he exclaims, pushing you both toward the closet again. "We don't need to witness that lovey-dovey stuff! Back in the closet!"

Zoro joins in, lending his strength to Usopp's efforts. "Yeah, keep the mushiness behind closed doors!" he adds, rolling his eyes dramatically. As the two pirates try to force you and Sanji back inside the closet, laughter bubbles up your throat once more. "At least let us go to an actual room to...you know, express ourselves properly!" You retort jokingly.

Chopper, ever the voice of reason, holds the closet door open with a grin on his furry face. "Let them be," he chirps. "They're just excited to express their love for each other."

Nami rolls her eyes but can't help a small smile tugging at her lips. "Don't encourage them, Chopper! Sanji needs to learn to control himself." Sanji bristles defensively at this remark, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. "I can control myself just fine!" he retorts indignantly.

Usopp snickers from beside him, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "We don't need to see you two making out all over the place!" he teases mercilessly while giving Nami a sidelong glance that makes her giggle uncontrollably despite herself.

Amidst the cacophony of laughter and friendly ribbing, Sanji's arm remains securely around your waist, anchoring you in the storm of their playful banter. He casts an indignant glance at Usopp, though the corners of his mouth quirk upwards – unable to suppress the happiness blooming inside him. "Relax guys, we're not animals," Sanjj huffs, although his eyes sparkle mischievously.

Brook chimes in with a wistful sigh, "Ah~ young love, it's a wonderful thing~" While Franky enthusiastically agrees, "Ow! So true! It's superrr!" Nami rolls her eyes but can't help a small smile tugging at her lips as she imagines all sorts of lovey-dovey scenarios playing out between the two of you.

Tired of the teasing yet simultaneously buoyed by their camaraderie, you decide to put an end to it – at least temporarily. With a sassy smile, you declare, "Alright, alright! Enough!" You gently disengage yourself from Sanji's grasp, lacing your fingers with his instead. "We'll leave you all to your imagination." Nami rolls her eyes dramatically, feigning exasperation. "Thank heavens," she mutters sarcastically.

Ignoring her playful sarcasm, Sanji shoots a final grin at his crewmates before allowing you to lead him away, his heart swelling with happiness. As your bedroom door swings closed behind you, cutting off the raucous laughter, he wastes no time embracing you."Finally, some privacy."

[symbiomancy]

fun with friends —getō suguru

—summary: getō invites his roommate to watch you have sex | 2,2k | AO3 | masterlist

—warnings: brother x sister (ft. roommate!gojo in his cuck chair), p in v sex, creampie, voyeurism/exhibitionism, spanking, sex toys, cum eating, masturbation.

—a/n: it's been literally 8 months since I last wrote about siscon geto. wtf.

You meet them at the door with a smile.

“What?” Suguru asks, immediately wary. He steps out of the way to make room for Satoru and drops his gym bag on the floor. His hair is wet, curling around his face.

“Oh, my darling, most favoritest brother in the whole world.”

“I’m your only brother but,” Suguru's eyes drop to your cleavage, at the way the buttons on the already tight cropped shirt strain, “go on.” He doesn't bother hiding his leering gaze as he toes off his sneakers. Why should he? He likes looking at you. And your tits.

“I'm so horny I'm gonna die.” You wrap your arms around his torso and press your tits against his chest, bat your eyelashes at him. “Please.”

Suguru chuckles, the sound reverberating in your own chest, and glances at Satoru who is shrugging off his jacket.

“Satoru, you wanna watch?”

“Yes.” His answer is immediate. You should laugh at his eagerness, but with how long it’s been since he first asked to watch, and how you’ve made it a point to be all over your older brother in the meantime, you don’t want to. He (or his cock) might explode from the pent-up frustration.

“Alright. Kitchen. Give me a sec.”

“You can’t even fuck me on the bed? Wow.” You blow a raspberry against his collarbone.

“Shut up.” He unlatches you from him and turns you in the direction of the kitchen. You yelp when his hand smacks against your ass. He's managed to slink away in the half a second it takes for you to turn around to try to smack him. Instead, you come face to face with Satoru who raises a brow at you.

“What?”

“What’s your damage, anyway?”

Satoru makes a sound of confusion in his throat as he settles into one of the kitchen chairs, arms resting on his thighs. You lean against the kitchen table, arms crossed over your chest. His eyes trace up your bare arms and pause to leer at your cleavage.

“You’re objectively handsome. Smart. Rich.”

“Thanks?”

You reach out and pinch the fabric of his pants between your fingers, giving him an ample view of your tits. “I mean c'mon, how expensive are these? But you want to watch me and my brother have sex.”

Satoru clears his throat, shifts in his seat to hide the tent rising in his pants. “Hot people having sex is hot. And I don't know; my mom got me these for Christmas last year.”

“Why am I surprised your clothes are so expensive, you live in a building with a pool and a gym and a sauna—”

“Three saunas, actually. Normal sauna, steam sauna and an infrared sauna.”

You frown. “I wanna go to a fancy sauna.”

“We have a summer house too.”

“Now you're just showing off.”

“Not if we go there for Christmas break.” He raises a brow. “I can ask if it's available.”

“What's available?” Suguru appears from behind the corner, one hand in his gray sweats’ pocket. You deliberately stare at the outline of his half-hard cock and feel your pussy clench, more heat pooling in your underwear. He adjusts his crotch with his other hand.

“We should get out of town for Christmas break.”

“Maybe.” Suguru motions towards the kitchen table. “Turn.”

You turn, hike your skirt up and slide your panties down your legs, step out of them. You throw them at Satoru who catches them with one hand, the other already unbuckling his belt.

“Oh,” he says, pressing his thumb against the wet patch, staring at it intensely, “oh, that’s hot.” He holds his hand out to show Suguru who only laughs.

You place your hands onto the cool glass table and lean forward. Suguru steps behind you, presses his throbbing cock against your ass, wraps one arm around your waist and rests his cheek against your bare shoulder. His other hand is pressed between your bodies, thumb buried in the waistband of his sweatpants. The hand on your waist moves, trails up your skin and dodges under your shirt, slips the buttons out of their holes. It comes to a rest on your breast, large and warm, and squeezes. You try to stifle the silent gasp that escapes you and take an even breath in.

He presses open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your skin, towards the column of your neck.

“C’mon,” you whine, bucking your hips backwards.

“You need to learn some patience.” His hot breath caresses your ear. He pulls down the waistband of his pants and his cock springs out, slaps against your bare ass. Suguru holds out his hand and you spit into his open palm. A string of spittle dribbles down your chin.

“Next time?” you counter weakly. His chest rumbles against your back.

“That’s what you say every time.” He wraps his spittle-coated hand around his cock and gives it a tug, once, twice, thrice, and drags the tip across the curve of your ass, resting it against your entrance. You try to push against his cock but a heavy hand is placed onto your lower back. His other smacks against your ass. A moan slips from your lips. “Stop being so fucking impatient.”

“Please, please, please, Suguru, please.”

He inhales and scoffs. “You’re so fucking spoiled.”

The blunt head of his cock slides in with no resistance. He’s so thick and the stretch feels divine. Suguru pauses, rocks his hips back and forth shallowly. It draws a whine from the back of your throat and his hand connects with your abused cheek again. But he’s kind enough to continue until his pelvis is flush against the plush of your ass. He takes a quick breath in and exhales. His warm hands are resting on your bare skin, one spread over your lower back and the other gripping the flesh of your thigh so harshly it may bruise.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Y-Yeah.” You roll your hips against his to the best of your ability. “Please.”

“We have to be considerate to our audience,” he coos, dragging his fingers across your skin. “Satoru?”

You clench around him involuntarily when you remember Satoru is right there with his dick in his hand, watching you, sitting just a few feet away. Something compels you to look at him. Blood rushes to your cheeks when your eyes meet his, and he’s staring at you so intently, like a predator eyeing up his next meal. 

“Satoru.” Suguru snaps his fingers in front of Satoru’s face. “Pay attention. You’re the one who wanted to watch.”

“I am.” Satoru pumps his hand around his cock twice, the lace trim of your underwear peeking out from between his fingers.

You look away from him, stare at your fingerprints on the glass underneath you. Suguru moves slowly, as if you haven’t done this time and time again and yet every time it knocks the breath from your lungs in the moment. He knows this and he takes his time, moves slowly until your shoulders have stopped heaving. Then, he thrusts in with force and you suck in an audible breath.

He sets his pace, working your pretty cunt open. He rocks his hips into your tight wet heat and you take it, pull him in like you never want to be part of him again. Maybe you don’t; no one else would be as nice and compliant as the brother you’ve wrapped around your finger. Your chest heaves and you try to stifle the moans slipping from your lips, prop your elbow onto the table to cover your mouth with your hand. He’s suddenly deeper, and your head spins, heat surging under your skin. 

Suguru speeds up. He’s so big, fuck, your needy cunt sucks him in with every thrust. Your body moves in tandem with his thrusts, meeting with his hips. All you can manage are small gasps as he gives you barely any time to breathe, to reorient yourself. Your arms are shaking under the strain of keeping yourself upright.

Suguru pulls you closer, leans your weight on him, lips resting on your skin, placing open-mouthed kisses and small bites wherever he can reach. He places a hand onto your jaw and turns your head towards Satoru who's pumping his cock in tandem with Suguru’s thrusts.

You can't help but clench around Suguru. He exhales, hot and heavy against your cheek.

He keeps your face turned to Satoru. You can see the lace of your underwear between his beautiful long fingers. It makes you lightheaded. You press against Suguru, circle your hips.

“You want to cum?” He asks, tracing his lips across the nape of your neck.

“Y-Yes,” you heave.

Suguru pauses in his motions and you nearly cry out, beg and babble for him to continue. His warm hand traces your skin, creeps up from your navel towards your tits and he takes one into his hand, squeezes it. You give a full-body shudder and he coos into your ear.

“Lay down, baby.”

You slowly lower yourself onto your arms — still shaking — and rest your torso against the cool glass tabletop. It’s freezing cold against your heated skin for just a moment before it becomes a nice reprieve from the heat simmering under your skin. Blood rushes in your ears, thrums in your veins from the exertion, from being laid out on the kitchen table, from your older brother pounding into your sopping wet cunt, from Satoru sitting there and watching your debauchery, dragging your underwear against his cock.

Suguru pulls out slowly, almost all the way out, and thrusts back in. He’s so much deeper now, you swear you can feel him in the back of your throat. Your mouth drops open, quiet gasps escaping from your lips — you think so because all you can focus on is the sound of him dragging himself in and out of your wet pussy, skin colliding with skin. It’s downright lewd but fuck, if it doesn’t drive you crazy. You do your best to meet his thrusts, drive him as deep as he can go.

You try to find an anchor in the kitchen, to keep the world from slipping away as the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens. You find Satoru, sitting there with his hand working on his dick, precum dribbling from the tip and glistening under the ceiling lamp. He looks painfully hard, the tip so red. His eyes are fixated on the way Suguru’s hips snap to please you. His cheeks are flushed.

You blink and then your eyes meet his. They’re so dark, pupils blown so wide there is no blue left.

White hot shame floods your face, your entire body, and you almost don’t hear the low vibrating thrum.

You come with a wail, electricity shooting up your spine, cunt clenching around Suguru’s, hands scrambling to find purchase on something before your soul exits your body. Your pussy dribbles around him, coating the front of his sweatpants tugged halfway down his thighs. He buries himself into you with a rich moan, pressing the smooth edge of the table into your hips.

His dick twitches in your ruined cunt, coats your insides in white. He's so warm. He swears under his breath, his hips shaking. The vibration against your clit ceases.

You press your forehead against the cool tabletop and take a deep breath in and release it slowly. Your ears are ringing, lungs burning from trying to take in air.

There are large warm hands running up and down your back. They work out most of the tension in your sore muscles, wandering and petting and squeezing as they travel lower to rest on your ass. Suguru grabs a handful of flesh in each hand, still buried inside your cunt.

Sweat coats your heated skin, makes the glass surface slippery. 

Suguru pulls out. You whine at the loss of contact, at such an abrupt emptiness, at the feeling of his cum sliding out. He presses the blunt tip of the vibrator against your hole, slides it in slowly. His cum dribbles down your thighs and onto the floor as your cunt tries to accommodate the toy.

“No,” you whine, wiggling your hips the best you can. They ache — from the strain of staying in one position for so long and — you swear there are bruises against your hip bones from the edge of the table. Suguru sighs and pulls the toy out.

“Satoru,” he says and you blink the mist from your eyes, try to find their shapes in the room. Suguru is holding the vibrator out to Satoru, who slowly raises his head, chest still heaving. His hand is wrapped around his cock, cum splattered across it and your underwear and his pants. “Clean it up.”

Satoru opens his mouth and allows Suguru to place the toy onto his tongue.

You laugh from your spot, a wheezing laugh as you struggle to catch your breath, toes just barely reaching the sticky floor, your brother's cum running down your thighs. “You fucking weirdo.”

Suguru closes the little space that exists between you and presses his mouth to yours. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and they open, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. He pulls away just as you lean in, a hand fisted in his damp curls.

“You talk too much,” he says.

[chelseeebe]

just wanna (get with you).

okkkk i promise i am not neglecting promise (i am) but i just had to get this out before the thought left my mind. this is just to say nancy wheeler i love you and i’m sorry

18+. smut. steve is an adulterer. but it’s okieee bc it’s hot <3

this is very much richboy!steve, he is very cocky and brash and very much not afraid of it

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

you had prepared to spend thanksgiving break alone in your room, honestly quite happy not to have to go home and deal with your car crash of a family.

that was until stacy had caught wind of your lonely plans and interjected, offering you an invite to her family’s massive home. now, it’d be rude not to accept, right?

you totally weren’t influenced by the fact that her older brother would definitely be there, not at all.

the drive up was a long slog, hours until you ended up in the middle of buttfuck indiana. it’s not somewhere you ever envisioned yourself spending the holidays but she had ensured that it was nice enough. her parents were.. interesting but as you were there, they’d probably at least try to keep up appearances. there wasn’t much else going on but in this tiny town but it gave you a chance to relax and ogle her brother.

their house is huge, like, ridiculously big. much bigger than their small family needed. from what stacy has confided in you, you can gather that her parents are hardly even home. they like to make a big deal about holidays to give the impression of a well put together family but if anything, they’re on the brink of divorce and only holding it together for the fear of being seen as failures.

not that your family are much better, but at least they don’t pretend to like eachother.

steve is up at the door the moment stacy unlocks it, waiting to see which of her sorority friends she’d decided to bring along.

he grins the second he sees you, taking your bag out of your hand and introducing himself before you can even begin to speak. not that you mind.

‘leave her alone, steve,’ stacy warns, rolling her eyes as she begins up the stairs, motioning for you to follow.

‘why don’t you leave me alone? i’m just being a good host, isn’t that right?’ he smiles at you, lugging your bag up the extravagant staircase and toward the room you’ve been assigned.

it’s not as if there’s a lack of them, a multitude of white doors that probably sat empty. it’s incredible how a house could cost so much and yet lack character despite the ample space to decorate.

she shoves him out of the way the second you make it into the room, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘uh uh,’ he’s smirking now and it’s making your heart feel funny. it’s wrong, totally wrong. but you can’t help it.

when he’d appeared on move in day you’d been star struck, his caramel coloured hair flopping into his eyes and the way his t-shirt clung to his arms had caught you immediately.

you and the rest of the girls in the house, obviously.

‘well go and find something to do you fucking loser,’ pushing him out of the door and slamming it in his face.

you couldn’t exactly tell her that it was fine and actually you preferred if he stayed.. so you grin and give her a fake chuckle, looking around at the room you were to call home for the next week.

‘i’m sorry,’ she sighs, ‘ignore him.. he’s just like that,’ walking over to the pristine bed. it obviously hadn’t been slept in for a while, you don’t doubt that they rarely have guests.

‘it’s okay,’ you smile, exhilarated for what this week will bring.

-

you don’t see much of the illusive mr. harrington, burrowed away in his office for most of the day with his wife busying around the kitchen, putting on an unnecessarily large spread each day. now you’re not a psychologist but even you can gather that she’s trying to make up for something.

stacy had bundled you into her room under the pretence of studying, both of you sat on her bed with neglected open books. opting to gossip about shit in your house rather than the looming finals.

steve knocks on the door and rushes in without waiting, standing in the doorway with a devilish grin. ‘mom’s drunk again.. you two wanna get out of here before it gets ugly?’ leaning against the doorframe.

he looks extra good today, his grey sweatpants sitting just right. you’re mindful to pull your eyes away when he nears the bed though his eyes never leave you.

‘like what?’ stacy frowns, sitting up and closing the untouched book.

‘i dunno..’ he shrugs, ‘i just don’t wanna be here when he gets back and she’s drunk again,’ fiddling with some trinket on stacy’s shelf.

you can tell that stacy’s not keen on the idea but she doesn’t want to be here for that scene either. you can empathise entirely, which is the exact reason you decided not to go home.

‘okay,’ she turns to you, ‘you okay with that?’

‘yeah.. sounds good,’ smiling at your friend. in your peripheral, you can see steve’s lips twitch into a smirk, cocky bastard.

much to your dismay, the three of you end up bowling. which you wouldn’t usually mind, but the alley was full to the brim with parents and their screaming children, running around the lanes hyped up on copious amounts of sugar.

not to mention the blaring christmas music that was entirely too loud for a tuesday afternoon.

‘you bowl much?’ steve scoots over on the bench, leaning in to whisper of the screeching kids.

‘not really,’ shaking your head innocently, ‘do you?’

‘yeah i’m alright.. i can teach you, if you want?’ ever the opportunist. who were you to deny him that?

‘okay,’ you giggle, blinking up at his chocolate coloured eyes.

it’s pathetic but your knees almost crumble when he walks up behind you, arms coming to envelope yours, large hands perched over yours as stacy tuts and turns away.

‘like this..’ his chest presses against your back, pulling your arm back and letting the ball roll down the lane.

you very nearly groan when he pulls away, hand lingering on your elbow as the pair of you watch the pins knock over. he smiles gently at you without even looking at the pins, he’s already sure he’d won.

‘thanks,’ you nod, keeping your own smile contained as you walk back to the bench, squishing in next to a less than impressed stacy. she’s not stupid but doesn’t dare to say anything and you’re grateful for that at least.

you watch steve take his turn, wondering how much longer you can feign incompetence to get him to touch you.

-

their house is quiet when you get back. eerily quiet. stacy and steve share a look before heading inside and you already know to prepare for the worst.

mr. harrington is sat facing the blank television, sipping on a small glass of what you presume is whiskey. the fire blazing in front of him, crackling loudly in the otherwise silent house.

‘your mother’s in bed,’ is all he says, refusing to turn around to face his children. he’s a stoic man at the best of times but seemed extra cold tonight. you don’t want to think about what had happened while you were out.

the atmosphere brings you crashing down out of your high, the loud bowling alley seemed like a dream compared to the moody room you stood in. at least your family were entertaining in all their madness. this was just depressing and you don’t have to wonder just why stacy is the way she is now.

steve slinks off upstairs without saying a word and stacy follows, head ducked down. they’ve probably been through this exact routine a hundred times before. you follow along silently, assuming that mr. harrington definitely didn’t want you hanging around downstairs.

before stacy slips away into her room, you grab onto her elbow, pulling her round to face you, ‘my mom drinks too.. i know what it’s like,’ offering some meek words of encouragement. it’s not a lot but you can empathise with the sinking feeling you know she’s feeling.

she gives you a small smile, pulling you in for a quick hug as the shower starts in the bathroom to your left. steve hadn’t hung around, disappearing before you even made it up the stairs.

‘night,’ you mutter before entering your own room.

there had been a tiny part of you that had hoped maybe tonight something would happen but with the scene downstairs and steve’s eagerness to get away, you doubt it.

-

there’s an almost silent knock at your door, if you were any sleepier, you would’ve missed it.

you know who it is.. what’s waiting on the other side of that door and for a second, you contemplate it. you could very easily turn over and drift off to sleep without ever finding out what could’ve been.. but, you’re not going to do that. not after you’d optimistically worn your best pajamas, dousing yourself in perfume before you had climbed into bed.

sliding out of the bed to open the door quietly and just as you expected, steve is on the other side with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

he doesn’t speak before stepping into the room, shutting the door gently as you stand expectantly before him. your heart is pounding, it’d jump out of your chest if it could.

‘steve,’ you barely whisper, ignoring the growing ache between your thighs. enthralled by the sheer tension in the room, it makes the air heavy, weighing on your shoulders as you practically pant at him.

in one quick move he’s stood in front of you, hands cradling your waist, confidence oozing off of his smile. his hair is still wet, falling onto his face perfectly. it’s almost cruel that someone could look so good so effortlessly.

‘i need you,’ he whispers, his spider-like lashes cascading a shadow over his face in the dull light. he’s so perfect it hurts.

you choose not to reply with words, hastily planting your lips on his, closing the minuscule gap between your bodies as your chest presses to his. you’re walked backwards towards the bed, the excitement is palpable, his hands barely able to contain themselves as they grip and squeeze your flesh.

steve falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you atop of him, clumsily readjusting your knees either side of his hips, gasping into his slack mouth when his grinds upwards, his already erect cock nudging against your core.

pulling your shirt over your head before reconnecting his lips to your jaw, planting hungry kisses to the exposed skin of your neck. this is everything you’ve dreamed of since you arrived, the feel of him desperately moving beneath you becoming entirely too much. you needed him now.

he shimmies his own sweatpants down his thighs, choosing boldly to not wear any underwear. he’s big. his cock springing up against his stomach, gazing down into the space between you, mouth hung open as he works your shorts down with his delicate fingers.

‘what?’ he hushes innocently as if he doesn’t already know. his hand leaves your thigh to wrap around the base of his dick, pumping his fist ever so slowly.

your eyes meet his again, feeling your cheeks flush as the corner of his mouth twitches. if he weren’t so hot, his cockiness would be sickening. but you’re not one to bend to the will of men, brushing off his nerve and instead moving to grip onto his shoulders, positioning yourself above his leaking cock.

‘i know what you sorority girls are like.. you don’t have to- fuck,’ his head rolling back as you lower yourself onto him, gasping quietly at the feeling of fullness that quickly overtakes every other sense.

your fingers clamp around his jaw, pulling his face back up to meet yours, ‘what was that?’ sighing through muffled moans as you begin to rut your hips.

you have him at your mercy, moving your hips antagonistically slow, relishing in the sight of his hooded eyes struggling to stay open, soft pants escaping his lips with every careful movement.

‘ho- shit,’ his fingernails leaving crescent moons into your hips and ass, desperate to cling onto your body in any way he can. guiding your body up and down with the palms of his hands.

‘shh,’ you mutter, connecting your lips to the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quiet his groans. as lavish as this house is, you can bet that it’s not soundproof.

‘you’re so.. fuck- faster baby,’ he whines into your mouth, unappreciative of the calm pace you had set. enjoying the fact that you now held the upper hand, but also acutely aware that the sounds of skin-on-skin are indisputable, paired with his grunts, you’d be caught out in a second.

‘nuhuh,’ shaking your head slightly, face pressed into his sharp jaw, hoping to stifle some of the noises come from your throat.

this is when steve decides he’s had enough, this was his house and if anyone had anything to say then they could. his arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place above him as his legs spread, heels digging into the mattress.

your lips connect once again, in a sloppy kiss that requires minimal effort as his hips begin to thrust up, punching against that soft, spongy spot deep within. and now you’re the one responsible for the too-loud moans, practically screaming into his mouth as his tongue slips into your open mouth. his smirk evident against your lips as his thrusts grow faster.

chasing the same high you can feel growing in the pits of your stomach. you’re not even kissing at this point, lips pressed against the stubble on his cheek as his grip tightens, low grunts rumbling into the minimal space between you with every thrust.

‘oh god,’ you mewl, the all too familiar twist in your gut as his hips begin to stutter, the sound of your bodies connecting was spurring both of you on. not caring about your volume level as you come crashing over the edge.

babbling his name over and over again as you clench around him, shoving your face into his neck as pleasure soars all the way down to your toes, the sensation overwhelming your poor fucked-out brain.

his hands paw at the doughy flesh of your ass, resigning his last bit of energy for his last thrusts, hot spurts of cum paint your walls. steve’s teeth graze against your bare shoulder, suppressing his almighty moan as you collapse into a heap on top of him.

you feel like jelly, unable to lift your head when he pulls out, allowing him to manhandle your body as he shuffles down the bed. you shift slightly, moving to the empty space beside him, reaching down for the blanket, desperate for some modesty despite the explicit scene this room had just witnessed.

that was everything you’d imagined it’d be and more.

‘jesus,’ he sniffs, relaxing into your bed as if he belonged there, ‘anyone ever told you how fucking good you feel?’ his arm reaching out to pull your body into his once more.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, still very much coming back to earth. trying not to get too comfortable with this arrangement but letting your leg slide between his.

his other hand flicks the tiny lamp off, leaving the room in complete darkness. toned arms coming to rest around your waist, chin resting against your head.

‘you can’t sleep in here,’ you warn, though you wouldn’t complain if he did.

‘why not? this is my house, i can sleep wherever i want,’ his fingertips dart around your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you don’t argue, settling into your comfy position nestled into his side. it’s not long before sleep takes over as his fingers trace silly patterns into your back.

-

but you’re rudely awoken at stupid o’clock in the morning, the sun barely rising outside of the tiny window. steve’s grumbling, tapping softly on your shoulder.

‘i’ve gotta go,’ he whispers into your hair, pulling the blanket off of his body and onto yours.

you’re barely coherent enough to understand what he’s saying, nodding along absentmindedly as sleep negs to take over again. ever the gentleman, he places a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed and rushing out of the room.

he’s gone before you even wake up fully, not registering what had happened until you wake up again, this time at a more appropriate hour.

it’s only then that fear takes over. had you misjudged how loud you were? what if someone had heard? there’s no way they’d turf you out on thanksgiving.. would they?

yet all seems normal when you slink downstairs, joining stacy at the table as she butters toast without a word to be said about your antics. you pray to every being above that you had gone undetected.

‘morning sleepyhead,’ stacy utters, seemingly in a much better mood than the one you left her in last night, ‘sleep well?’

you stare at her for a moment, deciding if the question is loaded or if she’s genuinely interested in how you slept.

‘yeah.. really good, you?’ testing the waters.

‘yeah not bad,’ she smiles, a genuine smile that allows you to release the breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

phew. you were safe.

‘it’s about to get uh.. tense today so, we can just hang out in my room until dinner,’ she nods assuringly. you trust her, not wanting to bare witness to mr. harrington and his cryptic behaviour.

before you can reply, the front door opens and a small brunette walks in with steve trailing closely. behind her, carrying what looks like a suitcase with the most displeased look plastered on his face.

the woman hangs her coat on the hook, flashing a quick wave towards the kitchen where you sat gawping before heading upstairs quickly.

from here, she looked like a cousin or something, someone you hadn’t been told was attending.

she’s pretty, gorgeous eyes and a polite smile that makes you want to smile.

‘who’s that?’ you ask, perplexed at the sight of this stranger who is obviously so comfortable in their home.

‘oh, that’s nancy,’ stacy continues with her toast, not at all bothered by the new arrival.

‘she’s steve’s fiancée.’

[djarrex]

something new, something to explore

Steb x f!reader

read on ao3 (more warnings and notes here too) | masterlist

As things were starting to heat up in bed, Steb happened to have found something you hadn't shown him yet…

18+ only. smut. self-indulgent af. about 2.8k words of shameless filth. teasing and toy use. #raw sushi

Normally you’d grabbed the condom. Pulled open the drawer housing the contents within the small stand at the side of your bed and offered the wrapped contraception to him while wiggling off the rest of your clothes. Steb never had thought anything of it – not until tonight.

You were already so far gone. Whining with need and his name. Steb hadn’t even really begun yet, but it was evident how pent up you were. Work was weighing on you. Family. Social life. You were practically clawing at Steb’s clothes. Committed to swallowing his tongue. 

So – he thought he’d get the ball rolling. Grab the condom himself, knowing exactly where the box was located. With your mouth not letting up on his own, he blindly reached for the drawer and pulled it open by the ornate handle, but lifted from your lips when his fingers grazed something obscure – something phallic shaped. Adjusting to sit up on his ankles, his eyes landed on the item in question, widening with curiosity. Caught off guard, his ears pinned back. As if he’d seen something he hadn’t been meant to see. Heat flooded to his ears and cheeks, and you noticed straight away. 

Realization of Steb’s discovery caused you to mirror his surprised expression. 

“Oh – I, uh – That’s –”

You floundered. 

His brow slightly raised, eyes softening. Inquisitive. Seeking permission. 

A simple sign directed your way, his hands slow and sincere.

May I?

Visibly swallowing a gulp of air, you nodded.

Steb reached for the phallic object, curiously observing the generous length of the tealed silicone. It was almost entirely smooth in his hands, as he wrapped his fingers around the base of it. Firm with a bit of give, slightly ribbed and curved a bit to the side. A purposeful design. 

“It’s a dildo,” you supplied, a little shy, filling in the blanks that he’d already filled. 

With a million images pouring into his mind, Steb could only watch you, at the way your chest heaved under his gaze.

You bit your lip. “It’s new…”

Steb considered it for a moment longer then set it down between your legs, the promise of it being used inside of you extremely present with the way it grazed your inner thigh. He chewed his lip in contemplation as he spared a glance to the wetness dampening your panties, trying to decide his next move. 

He couldn't stop thinking about the implications of you owning such an object, something you must use when you were needy but all alone, when Steb was working late and unable to satisfy you in his absence.

A strange pang of jealousy bloomed at that, mixing dangerously with how aroused the imagery was making him – of you sprawled out as you were now, bare, sweating and panting, thrusting the phallic toy in and out of your sweet sex.

Steb let his hand graze over your bare breast. Pinched your nipple with nothing but adoration, then began to sign. 

I am curious… What made you want to obtain such an object?

“The color…” you began, your hands still frozen at your sides, exactly where they’d fallen when Steb first made the discovery and lifted from you. “It reminded me of you. I use it when I’m missing you,” you admitted, a blush darkening your cheeks. 

Steb’s cock jumped in his briefs, tighter now with his evident arousal. He considered your confession for another moment, watching the way you worried your lip. He gently pulled the plush of it out from your teeth with his thumb, releasing it slowly as it flicked back into place.

What do you think about when you use it on yourself?

Steb didn’t grant you ample time to answer, because as soon as his hands had finished signing, he’d lowered himself between your legs, his cheek resting against your inner thigh just opposite of the toy. From this close he could smell your arousal, so decadent and alluring, and could even see how your cunt throbbed from beneath the tightness of your damp panties. Steb loved being between your legs, loved devouring you and mouthing at your sex until you were shaking and spent. He could almost forget about his new discovery if his face had already been buried in your sweet pussy, but the presence of what you’d referred to as a dildo was right there, teasing you purposefully with the way he’d set it down. 

Steb’s eyes met yours. 

He’d never used gadgets to substitute or amplify a partner’s pleasure before, but then again, he never considered the trust involved in something like that, and that maybe that trust hadn’t been present with anyone else before you. 

“If you want to see…” you offered in a near whisper.

Your panties were peeled off and slid down your legs not much longer after that, and Steb was already set to explore you in this way, the dildo held loosely in his hand. He imagined the way his own cock would tease you, how he’d rub the tip against your pretty little clit to elicit those perfect sounds you grace him with, to get you just a bit wetter and ready to take him. The phallic toy wasn’t an exact replica of his own anatomy, but he figured it was better than nothing when you were all alone and needy. Hell, were you beautiful when you were desperate and needy, just as you were now. The look in your eyes said it all, but Steb couldn’t spend too much time watching your eyes because he was so enraptured with how your sex reacted to the touch of the toy. Glistening, soft, perfect. He ran the head of it through your folds to your clit, repeating until your back began to arch off the bed. Satisfied with your body’s response, a welcoming familiar one, Steb focused instead on how your tight hole had to stretch around the width of it as he slowly guided it inside of you, watching, mesmerized, at the way your pussy swallowed inch after inch.

You were holding your breath, Steb could see that. You seemed just as captivated, watching how he toyed with your sex like this. Something new, something exciting. His cock was painfully hard now, aching and wanting. Straining in his briefs and he couldn't help but subtly rut himself against the mattress. 

Once the dildo was fully inserted, Steb watched for several moments as your cunt throbbed tightly around it, threatening to push it out. 

He sat up slightly, freeing his hands.

Tell me… Steb tilted his head inquisitively, almost coyly. How do you normally use it?

“I like to start off slow,” you admitted. You were so gorgeous like this, bashful under his predatory gaze. He could see the way your throat bobbed with undecided words, the way your pulse jumped in your neck. You’d taste entirely too delicious if he should bite down there, if he should instantly balm the superficial wound with his tongue. 

Testing, Steb slowly started to pull at the toy, inching it out of you half way before reinserting it to the base, all the way to the back wall of your cunt, then repeated using your suggested pace. It was enough to get you to ride a gentle wave, your eyes fluttering and chest heaving. But then, as needy as you were, his perfect little thing, you started to rock your hips, chasing something more. The same thing you’d do when Steb rutted himself into you at a leisurely rhythm, either when he’d first start off or when he’d ride your high.

He blinked at you expectantly. Wordlessly urging you to tell him what to do next.

“Then… then I get faster. A little– a little harder.”

Your back was already arching and your words were broken into moans, but Steb followed your guidance, ever obedient and loyal as a man who had–unbeknownst to you–fully pledged himself to you. Committed, without a doubt.

The tendons and veins in Steb’s forearm strained with how quickly he thrusted the toy, squelching sounds coming from your sopping sex making his ears bounce and cheeks heat. You were nearly breathless now, words lost to you. So beautiful, so ethereal, his. Steb knew you were close, as experience had taken over then. Possessed — Steb was properly possessed. Completely fascinated with the obscene way your cunt drooled all over the length of the toy, his hand and wrist. He knew his cock had similarly been coated in your essence many times before, but never had he ever been this close as it had happened. 

When you came, it was hard. Steb had to pin his free forearm across your waist to keep you anchored to the mattress, used his elbows to keep your thighs from clamping down on him. 

You’d squirted – and Steb was absolutely taken aback by that.

The toy spat out onto a damp spot staining the sheets, and his entire arm glistened with your mess. 

Instinct taking over before a second thought, Steb quickly lowered his mouth to your pussy. Ran his tongue through your soaked sex, cleaning you out. He almost came in his briefs at your taste, managing to stave it off only by slightly readjusting his position so that his hips were off the bed to eliminate physical stimulation. 

His eyes shut in ecstasy as he feasted on you, his hands grabbing your hips possessively. He felt your fingers suddenly gripping his hair almost too tightly, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain, and he could only groan his appreciation into your pussy. 

“Steb– Steb, please…”

Were you begging him? To stop? To keep going? He wasn’t sure – all he knew was that he’d been able to make out desperation in your raspy, breathless voice, and he was almost too far gone to make sense of anything else. Your taste, the feel of your walls throbbing around his slender tongue, the smell of it all, your hips bucking upwards. His senses were overwhelmed, all while he was trying to stave off his own orgasm, saving it for when he could be inside of you. 

“Fuck me,” you tried, desperate. “Steb, fuck me. Please, I need you inside of me.”

You tugged at his hair harder, more deliberate, but only when you closed your thighs roughly around his ears, twisting your hips to urge him away, did Steb finally pop off you. Your essence coated his lips, his chin, his nose. You pulled him by his hair for an unexpected kiss, not caring that you were cleaning your own mess off his lips. Steb hurriedly peeled off his briefs one handed, not breaking from you, and just as quickly inserted his aching cock into your sex, extremely slick from your orgasm and Steb’s own spit, condom long forgotten.

He didn’t start off slow – he couldn’t. He grunted unabashedly into your mouth, sweat beading on his skin and his hair fell out of place. He gladly took the air from your lungs, swallowing your soft, exhausted sounds. Rammed into you so hard that the entire bed shook and the smacking of his skin against yours sounded painful. You came again, he felt it, choking his cock into oversensitivity. Feral need took over, and neither one of you cared how abruptly he finished just a minute after he’d entered you so quickly, yanking himself from you just as his cock spurted onto your belly. Chest heaving, his body shuddered when the tender tip grazed your heated skin.

A bead of sweat rolled down a tendon of your neck, and without a coherent thought, he licked it right off. 

Steb cleaned you off – properly, this time. A warm, damp washcloth ran gently along your inner thighs and between your legs, the mess of milky fluid on your belly, and when he got up to dispose of it, Steb briefly shut himself in his ensuite bathroom, taking a short amount of much needed time to recompose himself. A reset. He’d lost a bit of control with you, was rougher than he’d ever been – though he knew that was only a glimpse of how he could be when it would come time to breed you. The inhuman part of him had screamed from behind that closed door in his mind, purposefully locked away so as to not scare you. He splashed cold water onto his face, and brushed his hair back into place, mussed with how hard you’d tugged on it. Stared at himself in the mirror, noticed the small discolored crescents decorating his shoulders.  

In his craze he hadn't even realized you were clawing at him, clinging to him so hard that you left marks.

A sensation stirred in his spent cock, hanging flaccid and slightly shorter between his legs. Steb admired the marks left on him, didn’t mind them at all considering his uniform would easily cover them for the sake of professionalism, and from undeserving eyes. 

He redressed and rejoined you in his bed, switching to the other side in avoidance of the mess he’d gotten you to make on his sheets. A very pleasant, sexy mess. 

Curled up on your side, you blinked dreamily at Steb. Exhausted you were, he could tell, and believed it. He stared at you, just as entranced and dazed in that blissful post-coitus fog, his eyes flicking to the pulsepoint in your neck, and couldn't help the guilt that pushed its way to the surface. No – he hadn’t bitten you, not that he ever would without your consent; but a culpable feeling about how Steb had been rougher than normal with you weighed on him. Would you tell him if you were unhappy, if him getting carried away had made you uncomfortable, or—dare he consider—scared?

Steb wanted you to hear his voice, the knowing rarity of it a novelty he’d hoped would project the sincerity of his concern. 

“Hey.”

Your eyes opened fully, brows furrowing, always so visibly caught off guard when he used his voice. Endearing, it was to see, because the look of confusion always would quickly turn into one of trust and gratitude. A softer expression settled onto your face then, one that told Steb he was free to speak, that you would always be there to listen. 

Only – he didn’t trust his own voice now. Not with the guilt weighing on him, the fear that he’d crossed a line with you, the fear that you may have kept your reluctance hidden from him.

Sitting up against the headboard, he decided to sign instead.

I’m sorry, he began, suddenly unable to look you in the eyes. Your gaze was burning hot, however. Curious yet patient. Steb took a breath. I was too rough, too careless. Please, tell me, did I hurt you?

Your palm met his cheek, gently guiding him back to you.

“Listen to me, Steb.” You took his hand, bringing it to your sternum and pulling his fingers to splay out over your heart, a gesture he was sure that was meant to balm the own ache of regret sitting heavily on his own. You leveled him with a look. “You could never hurt me.”

“I got carried away,” he said aloud, shame thick in his tone. Then, he wrapped the fingers of his free hand around yours, still holding him against your chest. A confession was coming – and Steb couldn’t stop it.

“You… don’t know what you do to me.”

“Maybe not,” you reply with a little smirk, your attempt at putting him at ease. “But I am the one who bought a fake cock that resembles yours to use when you’re not around – so doesn’t that tell you what you do to me?”

Steb couldn't help but chuckle at that, already feeling the tension lift from his shoulders, and, similarly, the guilt from his chest. 

“I thought you were amazing,” you continued, now seated up beside him. The sheet had slipped down, your breasts reexposed. “I like it rough.”

I’ll give it to you rough if that’s what you want, he responded, feeling more confident with signing, unable to hide a cocky smirk teasing his lips. But I still deeply enjoy taking my time with you, exploring you. Tonight was something new, he added. 

“Sorry I didn’t show you my dirty little secret sooner.”

Don’t be sorry. I rather enjoyed the look on your face when I found it.

Playfully, you swatted at his bicep, and he chuckled again. He felt lighter now, far more so than when he’d first rejoined you. 

After a few more minutes of talking, you’d both settled back into bed, and as you were falling asleep nuzzled into his arm, Steb had the pleasure of knowing that what had happened tonight was the start of something more to explore.