#I couldn't find words with c | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 23 days ago

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❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO IS THE HONORED ONE - AND HE'S MORE THAN HONORED TO BREED YOU ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: it's your duty as the wife of the clan head to help your husband get dressed -- even for battle. but that didn't mean he couldn't spend some time undressing you. aka fucking gojo in his shinjuku showdown outfit

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), mirror sex, clothed sex, creampie, implied multiple rounds, multiple positions, swearing,

✧ w/c: 7,946

✧ now playing: feature one of sab's kinktober

“Perfect,”

The word slips from your lips without a second thought as you slip the haori over his shoulders, snow locks against the coal colored silk, slick as steel and light as a feather, yet carrying the heft of expense.

Just as your husband did.

Little words could describe Satoru Gojo — the most common being the strongest — unmatched strength that matched his flawless appearance and even more unsullied skill set. Curses would sooner exorcise themselves rather than face him, and those who didn’t, well, they did not have long to linger on their mistake.

But you didn’t think of him as the strongest. No, your husband was so much more than that. A teacher. A mentor. A friend. An idiot (but he would insist that he was your idiot, and he very much was). And he was perfect.

A remark you knew many would balk at, and even now — as you dressed your husband, at his insistence, fingers helping him pull the fabric over his body, before smoothing it over his muscle and the word fell from you without a second thought — you caught glimpse of a grimace on Ijichi’s face in the mirror.

“Ijichi, you should go before I slap the shit out of you for your expression,” Ijichi squeaks in horror before slipping from the room, quiet click of the door welcoming silence, only for a moment, “what was that again, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, “should I really indulge you in making your ego any bigger? You may defeat Sukuna with just the sheer size and weight of it,” you tease, fingers smoothing and adjusting his haori.

“Think that would be a victory either way, sweetheart,” his fingers find yours, weaving with your own — miraculously soft even with bearing the weight of the world in his hands alone, “but I don’t want to win in such a boring way, especially to Sukuna,”

“And why’s that?” His lips curl.

“Because I have to look cool in front of my precious students, don’t I?” you see a hint of sadness linger in his gaze — and you hear the unspoken words, especially Megumi, but the smile slides back on as usual, “I can’t have myself embarrassing myself can I? You’d never let me live it down,”

“Oh, no I wouldn’t,” your fingers slide up to cup his cheek, “but you’d expect nothing less from your wife, now would you?”

And he grins, just as he did the day he had proposed to you, at the classroom at Jujutsu Tech where you first met, deep reds and oranges flooding the wood paneled room, painting it as it only could in the evenings, but even the sun paled in comparison to Satoru on his knee, lips curled in your favorite smile — the very one he gave you every day.

“My wife,” he hums, and you have to stop yourself from biting your lip and tense your muscles so you didn’t jump him then and there.

“What about it?” he runs the back of his fingers over your cheek.

“Just glad I convinced you to let us get married early,” not that it took much convincing at all — only a single look after he was unsealed and several minutes of making out later, and he had gotten Ijichi to get the registration and paperwork for him — the very papers Satoru had prepared before Shibuya, “because now you’re stuck with me, wifey,”

You chuckle, your fingers finding his as they brushed your cheek, turning your head to kiss his fingers, “I’ve been stuck with you from the moment we met,”

And you had been — you hadn’t known peace since he had thrown that Jujutsu Tech classroom door open all those years ago, with a welcome party prepared for you and the other first years, microphone in hand as he introduced each of you. And it wasn’t his strength or his skill or even his stupidity that charmed you — but the goddamn smile on his lips.

Funny, how everyone was so preoccupied with his eyes, when every inch of his was just as captivating—

“Think you’re going to lose me now, Toru?” You rub your thumb across the length of his cheek, “don’t know if I could ever live without you,”

“Oh yeah?” he wraps his arms around your waist, his warm form enveloping you, “no regrets?”

“Only one,” and he tilts his head, blues gleaming with the low light of the room, catching like sunlight against waves, as your fingers traced down to the smooth silk of his clothes, “that we never got married in a formal ceremony,”

“If I recall, you were in just as much of a rush as me,” his lips graze your jaw, threads of heat slipping up and down every inch of your body, a kiss pressed to the soft skin behind your ear, “you barely wanted to even have the small ceremony we did,”

“That’s because someone kept touching me while I got ready,” and he did, as you changed into a dress you selected for the small ceremony — or rather you tried, as his warm palms slid up your body, his mouth covering your soft gasps and protests, “or do you forget that you nearly fucked me against the wall right outside the room we were going to marry?”

“It’s not my fault my wife is so tempting, they say my technique is deadly, but you yourself are far more dangerous,” he hummed, another kiss against your cheek, as his thumb and forefinger cups your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror, “why the want a formal ceremony anyway? If I remember, you said formal ceremonies were only for the attendees rather than the couple,”

“Well, maybe I saw something that changed my mind,” or someone in something—

“Oh? And what could change my incredibly stubborn wife’s mind?”

You hate him — hate the teasing glint in his gaze because he knows exactly why, as he noses the hollow of your neck, lips grazing your flushed skin, “You know why,” and he does, he sees it in the way your gaze lingers across his body, the way you shiver when his palm slips down your hip only to squeeze, and in the soft sound that leaves your lips when his fingers trace down your chin to the valley of your chest.

“I’d like to hear you say it, sweetheart,” he presses himself flush to your back, heat seeping through the fabric, just as his breath warmed your skin, “don’t tell me you forgot how to use your words,”

“You’re the worst,” and his chuckle reverberates against you, sending a shiver up your body, his hands sliding down the front of your shirt until he reaches the hem, fingers toying with the fabric.

“And what does that make you since you married me?”

“A fool,” your lips curl, his eyes meeting yours, “but a very smart one,” and he clicks his tongue.

“So smart and yet she can’t answer a simple question,” you sigh, and his fingers, finally, slide underneath against your bare stomach.

“You just want me to stroke your ego,” and he grins at you in the mirror, robes nearly engulfing your form now.

“Oh, that’s not all I want you to stroke,” your snort is cut off by a gasp as his palms slide under your bra, “I’ll just keep teasing you until you break,” and his fingers tease your pert nipples, a wave of heat headed straight for your cunt, “and y’know I can, wifey.”

~~~

“Hngh, Toru, please—”

Satoru doesn’t know what he loves more — the sound of his name on your lips, desperation on your tongue, the same tongue that he had tasted again and again or the sight of you below him, spread out on his desk, papers and books long crumpled and pushed onto the floor — but he doesn’t need to choose a favorite thing when it comes to you.

Because every single thing is his favorite.

“If you want me to stop, you can try, sweetheart,” he presses a kiss to your thigh, teeth grazing the soft flesh, another mark blooming among the rest, a field of reds and purples he could spend hours exploring, “don’t know how far you’d get,”

His fingers press your thighs further apart, with the barest hint of strength, and you’re still utterly restrained under his touch — a lovely butterfly pinned for his viewing — and what a view it was.

“Fucker,” you pout at him half-heartedly, your kiss ruined lips and fucked out gaze doing nothing to help your case, “we were supposed to be getting you dressed for—“

“Then there’s no problem,” his fingers tug your blouse over your head, your bra askew from his eager fingers, and his hand reaches around to undo the clasp. But he doesn’t pull it away with his fingers, but instead bends down to away the intruding garment, “because you’re the only one getting undressed, sweets,”

There was something about the thought — and the sight — of you completely bare for him, at his mercy naked and vulnerable, while he stood clad in the clothes meant for battle. His cock twitched, he supposed this was a battle of kind — as he pushed his sleeves up — a battle of how many times he could cum inside you.

“Satoru—“ you squeal as he nearly rips away your panties, leaving you bare for him, your thighs closing on reflex, only for him to press them back apart, “fuck—“

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” he clicks his tongue, bringing your soaked panties to his nose to smell, before pocketing them, a grin on his lips, “a good luck charm,”

You gape at him, half horrified and half amused at the thought of the Gojo elders somehow finding out that the Gojo clan head’s clothes had been defiled by your underwear — though you were sure they expected nothing less from Satoru Gojo.

But even so, you can’t bring yourself to complain, “You don’t need luck to win,” and he scoffs lightly, his warm palm sliding up your thigh, lips pressing hot kisses up your shin, right to your knee, “you just need to know I’ll kick your ass if you don’t make it back in one piece to me,” your fingers run through his soft locks, before tracing over his cheek.

“I know, and the thought of you waiting for me is all I need,” he turns to your hand, lips pressing a kiss against the cool metal of your wedding ring, “and it wasn’t for that,” and he’s shifting, settling fully between your thighs, lips inches from your sopping pussy, “it’s for making sure I can breed you right,”

His fingers brush against your fluttering walls, index finger tracing the outer walls with the very tip, pulling and tugging until you were spread out completely, messy pussy on display just for him. You couldn’t squirm under his the wet squelch making your cheeks burn, “S-stop teasing, just—“

You moan as he sinks a thick finger into you, knuckle deep and fast, “So needy for someone who was whining a second ago about stopping,” it doesn’t take long for a second finger to join, stretching out your perfect pussy, warm walls pulling him deeper each time he pulled out, his wrist and palm drenched in your juices, “but y’know I can’t stop, wifey, it’s our duty, right? Duty to produce an heir, but more importantly,” And a third finger sinks inside, as he peers up at you, lips parted in a sweet moan that makes his cock throb, ready to bust without a single touch, because he doesn’t need touch — not when it’s you under him, “my duty to fuck and yours to be fucked,”

And your cunt squeezes his fingers at his vulgar words, a coil growing tighter in the pit of your stomach, heat building, as you can’t help moan his name, “and how will we fulfill our duty if I don’t prepare you, huh? Gotta make sure you’re ready, hm?”

His thumb rubs over your aching clit, the lewd noises of your slick nearly white noise to your ears as pleasure builds, every muscle taut underneath his touch. He’s pumping faster and harder, nails dragging over your walls, until his fingers find that spot you love — the one he knows how to hit again and again, and he does.

Your head lolls back against the desk, pleasure ripping up your spine, “I’m—“

And that’s the only warning you give before you cum, name on your lips as your back arches, as he fingerfucks you through your orgasm, working you down from your high. You're panting, chest heaving as he slowly eases his fingers from you, the emptiness making you whine.

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his fingers clean of your cum, tongue darting across his lips, a glint in his eyes.

“You’re so sweet I can never get enough of you,” and he lifts a finger to your lips, letting you taste yourself on his digit, obediently closing your mouth around it, until he’s dragging it out, pulling at your bottom lip, “you’re dripping from both lips aren’t you?”

“That’s your fault,” god, you’re too fucking cute, thighs twitching as he leaned down to your soaked cunt, a pretty flushed pink, “you made a mess,” and his tongue licks a stripe up your leaking walls, sparks blooming from the hot muscle flicking against your hard clit.

“Then I guess it’s my responsibility to clean you up,”

Satoru Gojo is always too much — it’s too much the way his tongue drags over the seam of your cunt, it’s too much when his nose bumps against your clit when he buries his face in your pussy, your fingers curling in his white locks, and it’s too much when you feel his grunts and moans resonate against your drenched folds.

It was too much.

“How are you so soft?” He mumbles, words whispered against your puffy clit before he kisses it, “you say I don’t play fair but you were unfair from the moment I met you,” he reaches down, palming at his erection, “and I knew you’d be mine,” Your eyes find his lips less than an inch from your pussy, chin and lips shiny with your cum and his spit, “you and this sweet pussy,”

And he’s slurping every ounce of your essence you give him, greedily lapping at you as if he’d rather drown in your juices than breath real air, “fuck, Toru, slow down—“ toes curling as you

He clicks his tongue, your head rolling back as your nails dig into his scalp, “You shouldn’t lie, sweets, not when this pretty girl is so honest,” the only sound being the wet squelch of your

“Satoru Gojo!” A familiar voice rings out followed by several knocks, “how long do you expect to keep us waiting?”

Fuck. And there was the reason you two were getting sresssd to begin with — a showing before Gakuganji and the Gojo clan before the battle with Sukuna. A showing Satoru agreed to undoubtedly to fuck with them — and you, now, for that matter, as he sucks at your clit again, your hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Didn’t know you were waiting. Thought keeping you waiting would have sent you the right message,” Satoru replies, words said nearly against your wet cunt, breath warming your folds, a shiver working it’s way up your spine, “do you all need to see me in my clothes for battle that badly? I’ll have to start to suspect other motives — and while I’m flattered, with how flattered I can be from a bunch old geezers, I am a married man—“

“You insolent brat—“ his tirade falls on deaf ears as you try to urge Satoru off, but he doesn’t, only pinning your hips in place, hands locked under your knee, as he tugs you closer.

And he only grins, “Don’t tell me you’ll let this old coot distract us, sweetheart? Gonna make me insecure, does my wife not like this as much as her pussy does?” He groans his fingers, spreading your walls apart, parting them to see your cum and pre leak, only for him to lap it up, “because you’ve gotten wetter, haven’t you?”

“T-Toru, I swear to god, I’ll—“ you half whisper, half hiss, and he sinks two fingers inside your needy walls, his tongue and fingers doing nothing to keep quiet as the squelch of your folds only grows louder as he drags his fingers inside every inch of you, while his tongue busies itself with your clit.

“You’ll what, wifey?” he hums, making you whimper, “leave? You know you don’t want that. We could make a show of it, should I open these doors and let everyone see how needy you are for me,” and you can’t help the gasp that parts your lips, walls clenching around his fingers, “maybe then those geezers will see why I chose you,”

“Satoru! Are you even listening?”

“You can say whatever you want to me here,” Satoru sinks a third finger inside, teasing your clit with chaste kisses, “I’m not leaving this room for the rest of the night,”

Gakuganji pounds at the door, but you barely hear it, heart pounding in your ears, as you barely muffle your moans behind your clenched fist, “Disgraceful, do you think this is anyway to behave—“ you’re so close, too close, ready to cum as he pumps his fingers once, twice, three times — hitting your sweet spot again and again—you feel yourself reach that peak—

Only for him to stop. The whine that leaves your lips is a little too loud, just as his smirk is a little too wide.

Fucking asshole.

Satoru chuckles, teasing you open with his fingertips, just carding your folds barely open at all, pulling small gasps and moans muffled against clenched fingers, “Aw, c’mon, you don’t think being sealed up in that box taught me anything? You should know it only made me take what I want,” Satoru pulls his fingers from inside you, licking up the side of his digits, “and what I want is right here,” he leans back down, “so tell me and leave,”

“Even so, I need to speak to you alone,”

“It’s only me and my wife. You can tell her anything you tell me, she’s the more responsible one after all,” he punctuates it by his teeth grazing your clit, making your hips jerk underneath him, his hand covering your mouth, your fingers curling over his. He grins down at you as he kisses your thigh, “My wife is indisposed at the moment,”

You don’t hear what Gakuganji says as his fingers sink back inside all at once, fingers rough as they fucked you open in earnest, but you hear Satoru scoff nonetheless.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, you old geezer — she’s just lying down,” and he adds with a whisper, curling his fingers just right, “and getting her brains fingerfucked out,” and your pretty eyes are full of tears, cries muffled against his fingers, spit soaked, as he feels your walls clamp around his fingers, “what do you think? Should I let him in, sweetheart? Let him see how you well you get fucked by me, hear you scream my name when you cum for me?”

Nerves on fire from his touch, he’s just adding fuel to the fire, and you’re bucking into his fingers, wanting his fingers deeper even a little—

“No, I don’t think so,” his lips curl as he leans down, cerulean glinting in the low light, as your walls give that tell tale flutter, “because this pretty cunt is just for me,” and he sucks hard at your clit, just as he pulls his hand away, “cum.”

And you do, pleasure ripping through every inch of you as your back arches upwards into his touch, as he holds you against his face, cumming against his fingers and lips.

It’s heaven, buried in your sweet cunt as you cum, hot release against his tongue that he laps up greedily, the wet squelch of your pussy along with your lips crying out his name again and again. doing nothing to ease the throbbing between his thighs.

And when he finally does pull away, licking his lips and chin clean of your release, he watches you coming down from your high — eyes fluttering open slowly as your chest heaves, pussy split open just for him, your cum staining parts of his pants shirt and haori.

Fuck, he’ll have to see everyone off like this — your cum on his clothes — and his dick twitches, as he leans down to press kisses along your body, with you shivering as he does. And he wants nothing more than this moment to last, with you beneath him, the taste of you on his lips, and the sounds of your soft pants filling his ears.

That is until, you flipped him, back hitting the plush of the mattress, “sweets—“

“Did you forget? It’s a wife’s duty to serve her husband,” and your fingers are as deft as they are possessed — grazing over the bulge in his pants, a hiss before pulling the drawstrings apart, “isn’t that right, husband?”

Fuck, he bites his lip as he watches you tug his trousers down, his erection slaps his stomach, hard and leaking through the fabric of his boxers, a large dark stain of precum from his weeping tip.

Fuck, your cunt ached at the sight of him — no matter how many times you saw his cock, you couldn’t get over just how long he was — it was a miracle you were able to take him without breaking your cunt, though he’d gotten far too close.

“And I thought you said we couldn’t undress me,” his cock twitches as your fingers trace over the dripping slit through the drenched material.

Your eyes don’t meet his, still fixed on his hard on, “if the clothes are on you, does it even count as undressing?”

And your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers before snapping it against his skin, making him jolt, “should I stop then, oh honored one?” You rub your thumb over his slit harshly, a gasp falling from his lips as his head lolls back, “maybe I should go get Gakuganji, let you have your meeting,”

“Playing dirty doesn’t suit you, sweetheart—“ and you pull his boxers down, pooling around his knees just as his pants did, cold air hitting his cock making him hiss.

“Like I said,” your palms slide up his body, from his waist, and under his shirt, to his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs, “should I stop?”

He looks up at you, lungs filled with heat instead of air, lips hovering an inch from his leaking erection.

“Fuck no.”

~~~

You’d be the death of him.

There was no mistake about it.

Satoru Gojo only had one weakness—and you were sitting on top of him. Your hair disheveled with your fingers running through them, lips kiss bitten and ruined even as your teeth grazed your bottom lip, and your gaze molten and only for him — just for him.

And you called him perfect.

A groan leaves his chest as your tongue flicks against his slit, salty precum swallowed by eager lips. He’s hypnotized by you, fingers reaching for you, as his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, parting your mouth for him, tongue darting out to lick the pad of his finger. Fuck, your mouth is so sweet, but how is it so wicked all the same?

“Fuck, sweets, how do you look so good on your knees f’me? S’not fair,” and your forefinger traces his pretty veins from base to tip, running over every curve and inch that would be buried in your tight cunt soon enough, his hips jumping against your touch, “g’nna make me cum before you even touch me,”

“If you’re gonna cum anywhere, it better be on me,” your lips curl at the shiver that runs down his body, your fingers sliding up his thigh as your fingers slide the pre down his length, fingers slowly pumping him.

“Fuuuuck, just like that, can’t wait to bury myself in your sweet pussy, wifey—“ your lips kiss his slit, sucking as your fingers toyed with his balls, feeling far too tight from your touch, a moan cutting off his words.

“G’tta find a way to shut you up somehow, Toru,” you spit on his cock, pressing teasing kisses up and down his begging length, “or maybe we can find a gag,”

You’ll kill him before he even gets a chance to fight Sukuna, and he’d die a happy man.

His precum drips down your chin, painting your lips, tongue darting out to lick it off your skin, “s’fucking good for me,” the praise sending a wave of heat right to your cunt, hot cum slipping down your thighs — and you finally let his cock slip past your lips.

A whine leaves his throat, his head lolls back, your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick, soaking his length, hips jerking against your mouth. Half muttered apologies, he couldn’t look away from the sight of you on your knees for him — mouth stuffed full of his cock with glassy eyes from the soreness of your jaw as you bobbed your head up and down his length. Just watching his dick go and in out of your pretty fucking lips, drenched in your spit and his pre, was enough to make him want to cum then and there.

But he wasn’t the only one.

Small whimpers and moans reverberate against his cock, tongue flicking against his veins, when his eyes flicker down, nails nearly digging into your scalp as he sees you two fingers deep in your cunt, the wet sounds of your pussy mixing with the squelches of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck, such a nasty girl I married, huh?” He runs his fingers through his hair, entranced by the sight of you fucking yourself open with your fingers, your mouth growing sloppily as you do, “does fucking my dick turn you on this much? You’ve soaked the sheets,” he chides, wide smirk undercutting any iota of scolding, while you meet his gaze with a glare, “Aw, what? Can’t take it—“

His words are cut off as you take him deep, too bumping against your throat, and his fingers curl in his locks.

“Shit—“ Your fingers graze his balls again before squeezing, hard, he nearly busts them and there, but he can’t, not yet — his fingers weave into your locks to slowly pull you off, strings of spit and pre connecting your — not when he hasn’t fucked your pretty cunt yet.

Your eyes are dilated, dark with pleasure as his gaze meets your own, a mix of his pre and your spit slipping from the corner of your mouth, “You haven't cum yet—“ and his fingers wrap around your wrist and pull your fingers from inside yourself.

You yelp as he flips you over in an instant, hitting the mattress with a bounce, large palms sliding up your thighs, as he presses your knees to your chest.

“The only place I’m cumming, sweetheart,” as he drags the swollen head of his cock against your needy folds, watching his precum smear against your twitching folds, before lifting your soaked fingers to his lips, “is inside your sweet cunt.”

“Toru—please—“ and you’re so needy, just for him, your fingers finding the front of his scarf before tugging him close, a gasp chased away by a grin as he sees the pure desperation in your eyes, “I need you,”

“I’m right here, sweets,” and he’s leaning down to dot sweet kisses down your body — against your neck, the bridge of your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. “You’re going to have to be more specific,”

“Fucker,” he laughs.

“Now you’re getting closer,” and he does too, bumping the head of his weeping erection against your puffy clit, as your folds feel as if they’ll part for him in an instant, “this pretty girl is more honest than you are,” he’s parting your folds with his tip only to pull out.

A whine turns to a scowl, as you tug him even closer by his scarf, “I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me, I’ll strangle you with this—“ and he sinks into you.

Fuck, you swear you feel every goddamn inch, vein, and curve as he works himself into your tight cunt, walls fluttering as if beckoning him deeper—and he was only too happy to oblige.

“Toru, s’too big,” your whining only makes his cock throb inside you as he bottoms out inside, “s’too much,”

“Too much? No, sweets, this dick was made to fuck you,” he grunts, taking every iota of his self control not to thrust into you and bury his cum deep in your womb — no, he wanted this to last, “and this pussy was made for my cum,” he rolls his hips against you swallowly, his tip brushing against your cervix, as both of your heads roll back.

“How are you so tight? Pleasure rips up your spine as he begins a steady pace of fucking you, sounds of skin smacking together ringing in your ears, “you’re fucking wet and yet you have me in a vice grip,” his clothes rub against you, your slick soaking through the fabric, “should I go meet with the elders like this? Let them see the Gojo clan’s haori soaked by your juices,” fingers pressing your legs apart wider and higher, divots in your flesh from his touch.

Your walls squeeze at his words, mouth falling open wordlessly as he grunts, “F-fuck,” you can only manage to say, chest heaving as you grasp at the front of his haori, pulling him needlessly closer, “f-faster—“ and he grins.

He was more than happy to oblige.

He rails into you at a pace impossible for anyone but Satoru Gojo. And your gasp fades into a drawn out moan that makes him only want to fuck you harder and faster — he needed to bury himself in your cunt until all you remembered was how to moan his name.

“You take me so well, so deep,” his hand laces with yours and guides it to the bulge in your stomach, “see how deep you take me? Good girl,” the praise makes you keen, sending another wave of pre to soak his dick, and he chuckles, “gonna fit my baby so well too,”

Your mouth falls open as his dick ruts against you, bullying your pussy open, “W-what?”

“Y’think we’re gonna leave this bed before I’ve filled you up?” And he punctuates his words with each roll of his hip, “nah, this cunt is all mine tonight,” his thumb drags down your lips, pressing against your tongue, spit leaking out as you groaned, “and so are you,”

And you’re sucking at his thumb, teeth grazing it before brushing it away to lean up to meet his lips in a bruising, messy kiss — all spit and teeth and tongue, as your hips meet his thrusts, tip finally finding that sweet spot that has your back arching and your eyes rolling back.

“Toru, fuck, I’m g’nna—“ and you’re cumming, hard, orgasm hitting every inch of your body at once, nerve endings shot with pleasure as he fucks you through it — fucking relentless (or should you say limitless?). Satoru grunts as your walls clamp down on him, the wet squelch of your pussy only growing louder among your pants and moans. He watches the white ring of cum wrap around the base of his cock as it split you open, and all he wanted to do was cum inside you.

He needed to.

But he’s pulling out suddenly, a gasp ripped from your lips at the emptiness, before he’s pulling you into his lap, your back pressed to his chest, an arm around you to keep you from squirming.

“What are you—“ your sentence cuts off as he teases your far too sensitive entrance with the head of his cock, “T-toru,”

And his other hand snakes around to cup your chin, forcing you to meet your own gaze in the mirror.

You’re a mess — sweat slicked and naked, your skin littered with blooming red marks dotting up and down your body, your nipples pebbled and hard under his touch, and your cunt on full display, his fingers slipping down to spread them, as if to show you where he just was.

And he was — hulking behind you, his whole form enveloping you as his cock pushed against your needy entrance. His haori disheveled and his hair askew from your fingers running through it, skin shiny with sweat, skin beautifully flushed, and his eyes filled with lust and his smile far too pleased with himself as he watched you squirm.

Your eyes squeeze shut, “Don’t wanna be the only one to watch me cum inside you, you should enjoy the view too,” he’s finally sinking to you again, body falling back against him as he sheathed himself in you fully again, “look at how well you take me,”

And his fingers are cupping your chin, spit slipping from your mouth, as he forced you to look again, see the bulge in your stomach as he slowly began to fuck you, his grunts and moans hot against your ear, “y’know, I’m beginning to really believe you were made for me, sweets, the only one for me,” and he’s emphasizing it with a thrust, “you’re the only one I can even imagine wanting, even just thinking of you is enough for me,” his words do nothing but make you grow tighter as he fucks upwards into you, as he spots your eyes shut again, “c’mon baby, watch me fuck you,”

So you do, watch as his cock slides in and out of your cunt, the wet noises and squelch almost too much for you to bear, the all too familiar knot in your stomach growing ready to snap. His fingers slide up your body to pinch and tease your sensitive nipples, already flushed from his attention. He’s murmuring sweet words, but you don’t hear any of them — you’re gone, lost in the pleasure, in the sweet stretch of your pussy around his cock, unable to look away as he fucks into you.

“S’good for me, sweets, I’m close,” and he’s pulling you down flush against him, cock buried to the base as his tip brushes against your g-spot with every thrust, his lips pressing needy kisses to the side of your neck, “fuck, g’nna cum—”

“Cum inside me, fill me up, Toru,” and he groans your name, turning your head to find your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongue wrapped around yours just as his cock hits the deepest part of your tight cunt and his fingers rub against your clit.

And you’re squirting, gushing over his lap and cock, pulling your lips from him as you moan his name, as he rails into you through your orgasm, until he notches himself as deep as he can before he’s cumming too, hot release painting your walls as he fills you up. He’s fucking his cum into you.

You both grow slack as he slows his movements, relaxing against his body, murmuring soft praises as he slowly pulls himself from inside, clicking his tongue, as he watches his cum slip out of you.

“Sweetheart, how will you fulfill your duty if you let my cum slip out like that?” he kisses your cheek, before he’s gathering the cum on his fingers to stuff it back inside, drawing a gasp from your lips, “maybe I’ll just fill you up again, hm?”

His softening cock twitches at the thought, as you lean into him, shifting as you feel just how wet you’ve gotten him…and his clothes.

Fuck.

“Toru, how are you going to fight in these clothes tomorrow?” you cover your burning cheeks, “it’s drenched,”

“It’ll dry,” you snap your head to him to glare at him, and he pouts, “what? It’ll be like you’re fighting with me—”

“I swear if I have to live with the knowledge you fought the king of curses with my cum all over you, I’ll kill you—”

“And if I’m not alive—”

“I will bring you back to life, just to kill you,” and your palm slides against the slant of his cheek, “and you’re not going to die, I forbid it,”

He chuckles, his lips leaning down to meet yours in a sweet kiss, “Then I better not now, huh?”

~~~

“You’ll come home to me, won’t you?”

It hadn’t been a question, not until now, now when you’re faced with the reality of the day pressed against you as day breaks over December 24th. Daylight seeped into the bedroom, his thumb tracing a lazy circle against the divot of your hip, a soft smile on his lips, with his arms wrapped around you.

Atlas long having shifted the sky to your husband’s shoulders, from the second he existed in his world — but for a moment, you feel it too. Not like him — never like him, even when you tried to bear it with him. But you never could understand, no matter how you tried to.

But you tried — his fingers lacing with yours, engulfing yours with his warmth, as he lifted your intertwined fingers to his lips.

“Where else would I go, sweets?” And you didn’t want to think of the other possibilities, to say the words out loud and manifest them as some cruel jujutsu god’s intention. Because when were these gods ever kind? “I only belong in one place — two if you count the mochi place in Sendai,”

But he doesn’t earn a smile out of you, frown still firmly fixed to your lips, “ouch, not even a pity half smile?” he tilts his head, “sweetheart—“

“You said it yourself that the ten shadows is the ultimate counter to infinity,” you hate the words that leave your lips, filling in your mouth like bile, unable to do anything but spit them out like acid, “that and Sukuna’s technique, I’m worried—“

“Worrying won’t change the outcome, baby, and I’m not planning on losing,”

“If you aren’t, then why did you agree to give Yuta your body?” your words were quiet, his movements still, muscles tense as if he had already given up his autonomy to another, “and you didn’t tell me,”

He’s careful with his words, tiptoeing between buried mines— “I didn’t want you to worry about something that wouldn’t happen—“ but still managing to step on one all the same.

“Bullshit. You thought it would be better for me to find out if push comes to shove?” you laugh, a bitter noise, but all the anger leaves your body, and only fear is left, “I can’t lose you, Toru,”

“Baby—“

“I can’t. I won’t,” you’re being petulant, you know are, but he’s the one person you’re allowed to be childish about, just as he is with you.

“You won’t, huh?” He wasn’t used to be treated like this — as fragile, as something that’s fleeting, that could slip from fingers as easily as everyone else did. Even as you touched his, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw with the most delicate of touches, as if he’d shatter under your touch, “I don’t think we get a say in that, sweets, unless you had secret meetings with a god I don’t know about,”

“Satoru—“

“Don’t worry I won’t get too jealous—“ and you cover his mouth, yanking him close by his scarf, your forehead pressed to his shoulder.

“I love you, you absolute idiot, you know that right?” And you feel his lips curl ever so slightly against your fingers, before he presses a soft kiss to your palm, easing it from his mouth, “I love you, I love you so much,”

“I love you too,” he presses his forehead to yours, “I’ll come back to you, but even if I don’t…I’ll always be with you, you can’t get rid of me, even in death,”

“Promise?” And he kisses you, soft and languid, thumb rubbing back and forth against your speak.

“Promise.”

And Satoru Gojo was never one to break his promises.

~~~~

Except now.

The slice cut through the silence of the battlefield with the wet squelch of flesh and blood, followed by two thumps, one soon after the other.

No, no. This wasn’t true. It wasn’t. It wasn’t.

It couldn’t be.

He promised he would come back. He promised he’d live. He promised.

He can’t leave like this. No, he can heal himself, he can save himself, couldn’t he? RCT like he did before with Toji. And for your eyes flickered around the room, no one could meet your gaze, none except Shoko, who saw the question in your eyes and only frowned before shaking her head, lit cigarette snapping in half as he held it too tight.

“No, no—“ you didn’t even realize you said the words out loud before you felt everyone’s eyes on you suddenly, before you felt something, a flicker of his cursed energy and you snapped.

“Ui ui, take me with you,” Kashimo was already on his way to the battlefield, a lightning flash to death’s door, with no fear.

Yuta says your name softly, “I don’t know if that’s a good—“ your eyes snap to his hard.

“You have your plans, Yuta, and I have my own, this isn’t a matter of discussion,” you step over to Ui Ui, seeing Yuta’s hands curl into fists, vision averted, “I’m not ready to give up on him,”

And in a second, you’re in the middle of the battlefield, dust clearing as the distant noises of fighting rings in your ears, but you barely register it, no, not when wind rolls and you see him.

“Satoru,”

You’re at his side in an instant, your fingers running over his cheek, the heat leaving his body, cold creeping in, but as your fingers graze his, a quiet murmur of his name, and you see his eyes flutter.

And it’s immediate. You look to Ui Ui, as your hands are placed on either side of his split body, palms spread against his body, “Take us to Shoko, he’s alive.”

~~~~

Satoru Gojo was never one to lose.

But he supposed if he had to lose to anyone, it might as well be the king of curses. But he knows he didn’t really loose, as he watches the snow fall above him, wondering if the cold against his skin was the snow or if it was something else entirely.

Was this what it was like for Suguru? Is this what he saw? The winter sky, or was it him knelt beside him as his life left his body.

Maybe he’ll ask him when he goes back, when he sees everyone again.

And then he hears it — your voice, the quiet murmur of his name, and the brush of your hand against his.

No, no, he can’t leave. Not if he can help it. Not when you’re here.

He feels your cursed energy flood his body, the flow of cursed energy through every inch of him, as it keeps his heart beating and his brain alive — a gasp caught in his throat.

If you want to start anew, head north. If you want to return to your old self, head south.

There’s only one option.

He had to head north — even if it meant — he closed his eyes — losing everything, but himself.

But he’d have you — and that would be more than enough.

~~~

“Are you enjoying the view?”

Your lips curl as you stand in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning back against the doorframe, watching your husband dress himself.

“Always do,” the floorboards creak lowly as you cross the bedroom to your husband’s side, “why do you think I married you?”

He chuckles, “and here I thought it was because of my incredible personality,” and you snort, as your arms wrap around his middle, your fingers adjusting the obi belt around his waist, “feels like you laughed at that a little too hard, sweetheart,”

“I just imagined how your students would react at that,” you laugh softly, as you finish adjusting his belt, only to grab his haori, a deep sky blue, as pretty as he is, “pretty sure they’d disagree, especially after the stunt you pulled—“

And of course, the stunt you were referring to was him coercing you push a box out to his students, only for him to pop out.

“How many chances would I have to do that? Plus, it was hilarious — did you see their faces?” And you scoff, shaking your head, “Plus, I figured it would be less shocking this way. Surprising them this way changes the focus from what happened to right now,”

You helped him pull the haori on, guiding his arms in one sleeve and then another, “I think you just being alive was enough of a shock,” you kiss his palm, pressing it against your face.

And his lips curl, “Well I made a promise didn’t I?” His other hand reaches for you, finding your waist and tugging you close, “and I never break a promise, especially when it comes to my beautiful wife,”

“Can you call me that yet? We still haven’t had the ceremony yet,” he shakes his head.

“This is only a formality, something to appease the elders and keep the idea of a clan war at bay,” he scoffs, shaking his head, before shrugging, “but it isn’t so bad,”

“Why’s that?” And he smiles.

“Because now we can have no regrets,” and your fingers trace upwards over his face, the scars from his battle bumpy as your fingers run over his soft skin, fingers reaching the blindfold over his left eye, before pushing it up — his cerulean blue eye now a milky white, “except maybe being able to marry you with both eyes,”

“Like you said, we were already married,” your thumb runs over his shut eye gently, “this is just a formality,”

He leans into your touch, nuzzling your hand, before his arms pull you flush against him, “Then can we be late?” And his lips lean down to press a heated kiss to your neck, voice reverberating against your skin, “because I’d like to enjoy my wife before I have to share her with everyone else,”

“Toru—“ a soft gasp cuts you off, as his hands slide down your sides to cup your ass, fingers squeezing, “we can’t—“

“Oh what will they do? Start without us?” And your resistance is waning as his lips start trailing kisses down your neck, tugging at your kimono if only to pull the fabric down your shoulders, “I promise I’ll be fast,”

“Last time you promised that, we didn’t even make it out the door—“ and his fingers are already undoing your obi, before sliding up and underneath the silk material, thighs parting under his touch, “god—“

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ sweetheart,” and his fingers toy with your panties, “look at my wife,” and he’s tilting your gaze to make you look at yourself in the mirror again, “perfect,”

“Just like my husband,” and his lips curl.

“Even now?” And your fingers cup his cheek, forcing him to meet your gaze — no longer the look of the strongest or the gaze of the six eyes — just the eyes of your husband, Satoru Gojo. The very gaze he’ll use to look to the future.

“Especially now.”

✧ a/n: welcome to the first kinktober fic!! sorry it took a bit T_T. i've been super busy with work and i keep getting sick in weird ways. last week i got hives and this week, my stomach is being a jerk. but i hope you guys enjoyed :) i think the next fic may be 'a cult classic' or 'scream (only for me)' so look forward to that!! thank you to @coffee-and-geto and @gaylatteart for betaing!

✧ taglist: @risuola , @riamallow , @montilyetron , @saccharinesatoru , @notgoodforlife , @aerithsthingss , @satorusmochis , @silvarys , @oracle014 , @jimabenamara , @seijakuu00 , @erwinawesomeness , @staryukis , @idiotgojo , @torubug , @theshylittleelfgirl , @mitsuristoleme , @forest-hashira , @aishies-stuff , @midnaamethyste , @fiannee , @paperstarsthings , @satosuguwifee , @kachntos @meow-satoru , @rowaelinsdaughter , @emonaculate , @hojoslutoru , @strawberry1042 , @fairiesthrum , @shoyosdoll , @gladiatorgladiator , @tojis-ball-sack , @astraecea-silversin , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @wakashudou , @cstandsforchaos , @yuminako , @zetianzz , @dazailover1900 , @sunamatic , @euphorism , @satowooo , @hawkwithsocks

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #gojo fanfiction #jjk gojo

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nkogneatho · 5 months ago

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— 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐖, 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

—characters: gojo, toji, geto, sukuna, nanami, choso

—cw: lactation ofc, fem!reader, nicknames, aphrodisiac (the milk), intoxication, masturbation, semi-public, dry humping.

—a/n: i have officially surprised myself with how insane i can really be. ya gurl so thirsty she created her own universe where men gib milkies 🧍🏽‍♀️

introduction to the universe:

Evolution took place a little differently in this universe. A mutation caused hormonal presence that triggers monthly lactation in men for 3 to 5 days, and it usually starts in their early 20s. It is studied that it does not serve any purpose of feeding like female lactation, but might be an indicator to arousal, and even a mating call due to accurate findings of natural aphrodisiacs in the milk produced by the thin gland located in a breast. It also pains a lot and causes swelling of nipples. While scientific advancements have yet to develop a pill that might solve this problem, the most effective natural method to be proven is letting another person suck it.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

It had been quite a long day at work. You knew you were the last to arrive home when you found his boots messed on the floor.

“Toru?” You called out his name, failed to receive a response. “Toru, baby, ' m home.” The wooden door of the shoe cabinet creaked as you closed it after placing the footwear in their place.

The house smelled…sweeter, felt warmer than usual. Making your way to the bedroom, you found clothes scattered on the floor near the entrance. The door was ajar which means your eyes had quick access to what was happening.

“Fuck! Ah! Ah! Mhmm.” You watched in surprise as your boyfriend kept fisting his cock, but wait. Something was different. You moved closer and found his hands squeezing his tits, milk oozing and drenching his naked body. But his heat doesn't arrive until next week. You thought. It was not uncommon for heats to arrive irregularly. It only meant that his hormone level had increased due to sexual frustration. Your eyes scanned his position, his movements. A hand reaching down to rub the wetness forming between your legs. You couldn't take it anymore.

“Need a hand?” You asked, announcing yourself in the room to let the man know he wasn't alone.

“Oh fuck! I thought I locked the door,” he panicked, yet he didn't remove his from his cock, just another arm covering his chest.

“And deprive me of this treat? I don't think so, baby.” You walked closer until you were hovering over him, kissing softly. Heat always has Satoru acting needy and you knew it.

“Touch me, doll. Please.” You smiled at his eagerness.

“I will do more than just touch.” Slapping his wrist away that were blocking the view of his lovely tits, you pushed him until he was laying flat. Your clothed pussy grinding in his naked cock as you leaned and took one of his nipples in your mouth.

“F-fuck.” he stuttered. “Don't. I am early this month. The flow is too much—ngh—you'll get high.” As if that was going to stop you? You started sucking more aggressively. He was right. The flow really was too much because you found yourself gulping a mouthful of his sweet milk, as your other hand reached down jerked his cock.

“Baby…ah! Keep doing that. I am close.” He is so silly to think he can relieve himself on his own when it never works. “Holy fhhuuck! Gonna c—aahhh!” You watched as he arched his back, white spurts covering your hands and other white liquid wetting your jaw. You sat up, removing your top as you already felt dizzy.

“We're not done, Toru. Wan'you to fuck me nasty while I suck your milk.” And he was hard again at your words.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

You loved spring. It was your favorite season to go out. Not too cold. Not too hot. Just the perfect amount of wind and sun. Apparently, it is also a perfect season for outdoor dates. You and Toji preferred to stay in most of the time but the cherry blossoms were too precious to be enjoyed from your windows or TV screen.

“Toji, you ready?” you asked your husband, packing things in your cute pink purse.

“Uhm, princess? Think we might need to cancel the date.” His muffled voice emerged through the bedroom.

“What?” You yelled as you stomped to the bedroom. “What do you mean we might need to c—oh…" Your legs stopped, body taken aback as you stared at his shirtless body, tone muscles and triceps flexing as he squeezed his tits, squirting the milk out.

“I am over-lactating.”

“What happened to the breast cups?”

“Look at me princess. 'm leaking too much. They ain't gon' hold it. Agh fuck!” He spat angrily as you watched the milk travel down his abs, covering it in sweetness.

“Fuck the date. I have a better plan.” You winked at him.

“Shit. Calm down, ma—ugh. Y'er gonna bruise my tits." You were riding his rock, rocking your body back and forth on his crotch while sucking his swollen dark peachy nipples. Your hands struggled to hold his chest because they were bigger than it, causing your nails to dig into the skin.

“Mmh lvove yvour mwilk shwo mwuch.” Your dirty muffled comments vibrating on his skin.

“Y'er drunk, ma. Ya like to get drunk on daddy's milk, hmm?” He cooed, planting a spank on your ass.

“Lwove it.”

“Hm mhh,” he chuckled. “Nasty fucking girl. Move—ahh! Move faster. Need to cum.” You followed his orders, not looking up once to meet his eyes but busy soaking in the drug and flavor of his milk.

“Ngh—twoji, too much. Wan' a break.” You complained, but he was not going to let you stop. This was your plan after all.

“Nuh uh! Don't pull that now.” He grabbed your ass and started bouncing them up and down. You felt so insides bursting with pleasure, cheeks burning up, eyes rolling back. “Gonna cum, ma. Make sure this pussy drinks all my cum as you stuff your mouth with my milk—gahh! fhuck fhuck! fuuuuck!” He was talking as if you had a choice when one of his hand forced you down on his cock as he painted your hole in his cum, while the other hand pushed your face further against his tits. He watched as milk overflowed from the side of your lips. “Such a good girl f'me. You wan' more?”

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

Sukuna tend to get a bit crazier when he was in heat. He fucked you with more strength, came a lot more than usual. It was hard to keep his mood balanced. You tried to suggest him some diet during those days of the month, but he refused to eat greens. A big man like him fancies flesh. Furthermore, why does he need a diet when he has the most proven effective method?

“K-kuna…agh! Too biiig." You cried. Sukuna had you on top of him, his big body splayed on the king-size bed—that surprisingly was almost the same size as him—your thighs trembling, kneecaps digging the mattress as you struggled to keep hi dick inside. Your head was telling you to get off it. Yet, your tight little cunt craved more of him.

“Hmm,” he chuckled. “Your pussy has a habit of biting more than she can swallow.” His teases were humiliating. Your hands rested on his chest, tongue reminiscing the sweet taste of his milk. Even though you were not completely dominant in this relationship—it is hard to be one when you are dating a man like sukuna—there were times when you initiated the things he would usually pester you about. Your lustful eyes gave him a look he hadn't seen before. Soon, he felt your hands tightening around his tits. Now he knew what you were up to.

“Want a taste, my woman?” All you could do was give a light nod because most of your strength was busy rolling your waist on his cock. “Go ahead. Suck my milk out.”

Without a second thought, you found your lips kissing his puffy pink nipples. You could feel the veins throbbing as you were suckling his juice out. Sukuna's milk was sweet with a hint of tanginess. Nevertheless, you loved it.

“Shhit! Calm down woman. I am not going anywhere.” His words were just background noise to you because all you could hear is squelching of your pussy and your slurps on his tiddie.

“Mmghh! Don't tell me you're planning on getting drunk.” His shoulders adjusted themselves to get a better position. “If you are—fuck. Then don't expect me to go easy tonight.” You unlatched your mouth from him for what seemed like after fifteen minutes to finally speak.

“Want you to ruin my pussy, kuna. Mmh,” you jerked your hips forward. “Want you to fill my mouth with milk as you do it.”

“Get off.” His tone shifted from somewhat sweet to serious. You followed his orders anyway. You both exchanged positions so now he was on top of you.

“My dirty human. Better stick to your words, darling. I am not planning on stopping until you're drenched in my cum and my milk”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

You always knew Suguru's heat cycle. As the days approached closer, he used to become more and more whiny and clingy, arguing with you over petty things. His behavior did a 180° on these days.

Earlier today, you had a discourse over chores. He nagged at how you should keep things in place, or you won't find them when you need it. You understood where he was coming from, but the work had taken quite a toll on you that you barely had energy tonight. He just wouldn't let it go, and you grew more frustrated. You yanked him by his wrist, dragging his giant, muscular body to the shower. And here you were, stroking him off as you nibbled, and suckled on his tits. The continuous pour of warm water stimulating both of you.

“This is what you wanted, right, sugu?” you looked up, chin nuzzling in his cleavage. “Nagging me the whole day. You just wanted your tits sucked.” His brows scrunched together. A large hand approached your face, cupping your cheeks. He had his fingers digging the muscle on your face until they squished together.

“Behave,” his voice stern. “Just 'cause 'm in heat doesn't mean you hold the upper hand, baby.”

“Oh, but I do, Sugu—*spank* Ah! What was that for?”

“For teasing me. I know you love drinking my milk, princess. Get to it 'cause I can't take it nomo.” He pressed your face against one of his boobs, your nose pressured a little above the nipple, forcing the spurts of milk out.

“You gon' let it fall down the drain?” Your immediate action was to cup his tiddy with both of your hands—his chest was too big to use one—massaging all of the juice out. You opened your mouth and let it aim at your tongue.

“Fucking hell! This is why—mmghh easy, princess. 'Tis all sore.”

“I gotchu, sugu.” You eased out the movement of your hands, gently kneading them.

“Fhuuck, yes. Just like that.” Other hand travelled back down, grabbing his throbbing boner, squeezing the base as you squeezed his nipples. Geto planted a kiss on top of your head. “Holy shit. Still can't believe you're mine.” Your lips morphed into a smile, teeth still grasping his nipple. “Look at'cha. My milk's getting your high already.” He picked you up bridal style, your tongue still licking his puffed chest, as he kicked the bathroom door open that lead to your bedroom. “You got your treat. Time f'me to get mine, princess.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Working 9to5, staring all day at a computer screen is what your life had been all about. You switched companies to think you might get something new to do, but to no one's surprise, it was the same. Except, this one man you were crushing on since day one.

Nanami Kento was a gentleman they described in those fairytales. Always so respectful, kind and damn he was a big feminist. Although, with him being the perfect husband material, you were still never going to cross the line because you were co-workers. That didn't mean you weren't allowed to crush.

“And then Mr. Sasaki from HR department knocked the beer over,” your TL chattered. Nanami wasn't the one to gossip, but Sakurako-san was your team leader and older than everyone. She wasn't a bad person but oh boy did she love tea. You fake gasped to give her the reaction she wanted, as you side-eyed Kento who looked a bit uncomfortable.

“Then he had the audacity to—”

“Excuse me,” Nanami withdrew halfway from the conversation he wasn't even participating in much, walking away abruptly.

After a few minutes, you decided to look for him to make sure he was alright. Of course, as a co-worker, you should. Nothing related to the heart eyes you give him, right?

You stomped towards the corridor almost making a left until you heard loud coughs reverberating through the walls of the men's washroom. You swore it was him. Furthermore, you shouldn't have gone in. What were you thinking? It was a men's washroom, for fuck's sake. But what if something happened to him? Sure.

Pushing the door in a hurry, you entered, almost tripping. “Nanami-san—” You did not whether you should be embarrassed, shocked or horrified. Maybe all three.

“Are you okay?”

“You shouldn't be here, l/n-san.” True. But seeing him squeeze his tits, and milking himself down the drain was the sight you were blessed to see. You locked the door behind, the clicking of the latch making Nanami hold his breath, “What are you doing?”

“You're going to let all that milk go to waste, Kento?” His dick twitched. You never called him by his first name, and now you were asking inappropriate questions along with calling him Kento.

“L/N-san, this isn't right—”

“Shhh. Just wanna help you. We're colleagues, aren't we?” He nodded.

Without breaking any eye contact you hopped on the counter, hands reaching for his nipples glistening with milk under the off-white light. You pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the liquid staining it, only starting to cramming the swell more. Kento lost his composure, hands falling flat on the counter, head on your shoulders. Couple of shaky breaths, fading soft moans leaving his lips. Pushing him back for a second to only latch your tongue on the dark pink bud, you were sure you're way past the appropriate relationship of just work buddies.

“L/n—ah! Can I?” He darted his eyes down where the tent peeked out his gray formal pants. You smiled. Knowing he needed friction, you adjusted your pencil skirt, and wrapped your legs around him, boner pressed against wet patch on your panties. Nanami felt like he was in heaven. He started humping against your clothed pussy, being rough contradictory to his gentle innocent touches to you before. But it was only reasonable given the fact that he was in heat.

He never knew the feeling of being milked from both ends, but now when he came, he ruined his whole expensive suit. The edges of the mustard yellow shirt becoming translucent with his milk, with a dark spot on his pants between his legs. He let out a shaky breath, apologizing as he slowly came back to his senses.

“What are you apologizing for? I started it,” you said as you hopped off the countertop. “Let me know if you ever need more help, Nanami-san.” A wink from is what caused his cheeks to turn red. “I'll bring you spare clothes from your desk.”

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

Most lactation in men started in their early twenties. Although, it wasn't unusual for some to start late. There was nothing medically wrong with them. But you've heard things about. How much more it hurts, and how more they leak on their first heat if they do get late.

You've been dating your boyfriend Choso for almost a year now. He hadn't start lactating yet, which is why you researched enough on this topic just in case. Personally, you've never been physical with men when they're in heat. Not because it is not your thing, but your relationships were too short to actually be comfortable in experiencing it. Of course, you would never do anything with Choso at his displeasure just because you wanna try it. You love him too much. But the thought would never leave your mind. What would he act like in his heat? Well, it was your lucky day. Because you came home to a whining lactating man.

“Cho…baby, are you okay?” You rushed to him in concern. Choso was on the bed, hair down with tears in his eyes as he pressed his chest together.

“Babyyy, It hurts. I don't know what is happening.” His hold on your wrist a little too tight. “Fuck. It hurts so bad. Make it stop. Leaking too much and my cock hurts too.” You could hear—feel the desperation in his voice. His cock was on full display as his boxers dangled near his ankles. The swollen tip shining with pre-cum seducing your mouth. But your mouth was needed more elsewhere. You remembered your first sex education class, how men in heat can be relieved if you milk and suck their tits. You discarded your clothes, getting bare and settling on his lap. Your hole rubbing against the body of his shaft as you pressed your tits against his, kissing his forehead.

“Cho shhh. Baby you're fine. You're just in heat. 's gonna be alright. 'm here, okay?” He sniffled as you pampered him. “Gonna take good care of my boyfie.” You left a trail of lipstick stains as you kissed his body, slowly trailing towards the puffy nipples. You looked up at him for consent, only to continue when he whispered a “please”. With your tongue darting out, you soaked in the view before licking a stripe.

“Shit,” Choso cursed. You do it a few more times until you're finally sucking on it like a popsicle. “Fuck. Ah!” It was indeed too much because with only fifteen seconds in, your mouth was already full of his milk, leaking from the corner of your lips. It wasn't a normal amount. But given the fact that it was his first, that too at this age, you brushed it off, focusing back to sucking. You gulped the milk, each sip making you dizzy. It made you grind harder against his cock, moaning along with him. His whimpers making you wet, and his dick enjoying your slippery pussy.

“Wanna cum. Please. Wanna cum, baby.” He begged and you started fastening your pace. The sheets were wet, along with your neck and tits as he shot spurts of sweet milk in your mouth that dripped down your body. Some of it sneaking its way down between his dick and your cunt. You held on to his shoulder, giving his chest a few slaps, making him rut harder against you that the bed started creaking.

“Cumming. Fuck, I am cumming. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ngh—holy fuuuuck!” Your own orgasming cunt could feel his dick twitch as it shot a load out. His hardened nipples turning soft. He immediately cupped your cheeks, pulling you up. “I love you so much, fuck. Thank you.” He said before he kissed you, his tongue lapping against yours, tasting himself on you.

@kiffenisstupid @pastelle-rabbit @lxnarphase @teddybeartoji @rizzmin @yuta-nation @evxelisy @hellkaiserinphoenix @ffsg0jo @princessoflalaland @baekinola @chuuyasboots @cathybarn @togamest @katsukichu @blkkizzat

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tojirights · 9 months ago

Note

I absolutely love your Alastor smut! Is there anyway you can make one where your Vox’s ex and Alastor decided to somehow show off to Vox how much reader loves his c*ck more?? A special broadcast maybe?? Please keep up the great work!

a/n: i love vox but if there's one thing i love more, its making him feel inferior to alastor 😍 this is soo good. REQUESTS OPEN! 🩷

tags: 18+ smut nsfw!

vox thought alastor couldn't get any worse, there was nothing that shit-for-brains demon could do to enrage him more. that was until valentino told him that alastor had a new pretty little thing hanging on his arm. "he WHAT?!" vox's voice cracks from the sheer force he puts behind those words. valentino snickers, watching vox run to his security room.

and there you were, locked arms with that fucking deer demon, walking down the street. you looked absolutely enthralled with that fucker! "you've gotta be fucking kidding me..." he growls, static filling his vision. as if alastor can sense that they're being watched, he winks at the camera and pulls you down a more secluded path. vox puts his fist straight through the screen before pacing around the room. it couldn't have been more than a few minutes before his ears pick up that voice, that shitty radio voice.

"good evening viewers!" alastor begins, making vox's head spin around. the tvs were blank, just audio playing through them. he's about to smash the rest of them when something catches his attention. he swears he hears a familiar noise, your noises specifically. then he hears you panting, and blood rushes to his groin first and then his face. "thank you for tuning into a very special late night broadcast." alastor's voice sounds... breathier.

"what the fuck is-" vox mutters to himself before his eyes go wide. "o-oh god." you moan, sounding far too sexy. and enjoying yourself far too much. "yes alastor, fuck. that's so good." your whines play out, filling the room and vox is just about to lose it. "is alastor fucking your ex?" valentino leans against the doorframe, a smug look on his face. "you’re so tight, my dear. your cunt was made for my cock just as i was made for radio." he laughs to himself, his hands finding your hips as he fucks you over his desk.

this little plan of his was working just as intended. he asked, of course, if you'd be interested in ruffling your exes feathers a little bit and you agreed. this special broadcast was only being shown directly to vox through his security. not a single other soul would be able to hear you but vox. it sent a certain chill up your spine, knowing that he was definitely listening. every thrust of alastor's cock presses you harder into the desk, bruises sure to form later in the evening.

"that's kinda hot, yknow-" "SHUT UP VAL." vox feels as though he's about to implode, anger coursing through him in a way he's sure he's never felt. "i am going to finish him. both of them. they won't live this down."

valentino covers his mouth to stop from laughing. "it sounds like they're about to finish each other." and he was right. your breathy little moans are a dead giveaway. "please, please your cock feels so good. g-gonna cum." vox paces the room, plotting your downfall but his cock is hard as a fucking rock in his pants.

"such a good girl, you are. you sing so pretty my dear." alastor grunts, pressing the head of his cock up against your cervix before he feels you clamp down around him. with every pulse of youe orgasm, alastor follows. "cum alastor, p-please fill my pussy." you gasp, riding out wave after wave of deep pleasure. vox should turn this off, he should walk away but he can't make his feet move.

and after alastor finishes deep inside of you, filling you to the point of it leaking down his cock, he lets out an almost sinister chuckle. "thank you my loyal viewers for tuning in for this one of a kind show! we hope you thoroughly enjoyed."

the room is silent after the broadcast ends. that is, until velvette clears her throat. "was that alastor fucking your bitch?" she raises a brow, a slow smirk spreading over her lips when she sees vox's face.

"no one talk to me. i have business to attend to." and with that, vox disappears, leaving valentino and velvette to themselves.

"bold move, i gotta hand it to him."

#hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor smut #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

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sm-baby · 11 months ago

Note

I want to see all the carnival AU bios again, but finding Zooble's is too hard, even when using the search. I hope there's a more organized way to view them.

(Trying to come up with nicknames that said characters would give my characters.)

CARNIVAL AU MASTERPOST + BOUNDARIES

Augh... I never know how to organize stuff! But here is a mini master post of the TADC Info Cards (edited):

The Main Cast (Minus Zooble :C)

Zooble ( Plus Zooble!!! :3)

Shiny Cards ✨

Lesser AI

THE GLOINKS!!!

Level layout

OFFICIAL COMIC:

The Entire Comic has also been dubbed by @volticglitch !! If you're not a reader, You can watch their dubs instead!! Here is the dub

Your best friend!

Jesterly duties

The hallway

Crying

First clue

Special event!

Foul language - a silly

Excuse me?

Leave!

A word with Bubble

Let it Settle

CONCEPT ART:

Characters Relationship Chart ( Bonus, OC relationship Chart!)

The Tent

The Funhouse

Cutscene

Pomni expressions

Character design

Meet Pomni

ALT character skins (Bonus, Maid skins because of course I did)

Pomni expressions AGAIN!!! (and a bonus)

The Jester's Circus tent (and a bonus)

References

Shape language ramble

LOREEE:

Neck pieces

Neck pieces (prt 2)

Neck pieces (prt 3)

Silly Frilly

Toxic Positivity Duo

Quick Ragatha Doodle

The Rabbit

Non-sentient Pomni

Pity Laugh

First act of violence

First and only visit

DOODLE DUMPS:

First look

Meet Jax

Meet Ragatha

Meet Kinger

Meet Able

Zooble's room

Theatre shinanigans

Thanks for listening

Jax Doodles

Ragatha doodles (Feat. Kaufmo)

Caine doodles

Queenie?

Colored doodles

Eye popping

Jax Ko-fi request!

SILLIES!!:

The "Sillies!!" Section is moved HERE becuase the mastpost couldn't take any more links!

╔══ ❀•°❀BOUNDERIES/FAQ❀°•❀ ══╗

"Can I make OCs In Carnival?" - Yess!! Multiple people already have and they make me so happy! do whatever, as long as you're happy and having fun!! " Can I make NSFW?" - Yas and slay, just be sure to warn and spoiler it, etc. etc. be responsible when posting NSFW! " Can I make Fanfics?" - Yes and please show me!! that would be lovely!! " Can I dub/voice your stuff?" - Yes but, I have only one rule... show me pleaaasseeee pls pls pls 🥺🙏 " Can I ship the characters/self ships/ OC x Canon?" - Aughh.. this is gonna suck to explain cuz its a lot to ask.. You're allowed to ship any ship! My only boundary is that it doesn't include either Pomni or Caine being with others who are not eachother! For example: Ragatha x Jax ✅ Pomni x Jax❌ Kinger x Queenie✅ Kinger x Caine❌ As long as the ship does not include Pomni or Caine individually, I'm all aboard!! I respect Jax x Pomni shippers, as well as Kinger x caine shippers, I just don't like them myself and don't want to accidentally stumble upon them in the tag! I do apologize if that's a lot, it just makes me uncomfy! Bounderies can be very tight! :')

#The amazing digital circus #the amazing digital carnival #carnival au #pomni #caine #zooble #gangle #kinger #Ragatha #Jax #tadc #tadc fanart #the amazing digital circus fanart #queenie #kaufmo #able

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parfaitblogs · 2 months ago

Text

fresh out the slammer ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid comes home from prison, and needs to fulfil everything he has missed about you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut & comfort (18+ mdni) tags: post prison!reid. soft dom!spencer. teeth might rot i was cringing during some of this. established relationship. the briefest of breast play because what do i hate? the word nipple! fingering. p in v. no protection is mentioned but imagine what you will. casual nudity afterwards. spencer's got bruises from prison. i lowkey forgot about his thigh wound until the very end. word count: 5.7k a/n: there's a completely different version of me in a world where i didn't write this. i hope she's doing well. i feel like i've been reborn. this is stupidly long LOL my apologies. pleaseee tell me if you liked this! or if you didn't! i love feedback! here's my monthly smut fic see you all in october!

Three months wasn't a long time, in the grand scheme of things. A quarter of a year usually went by too quickly for anybody's liking, the year sprinting through seasons until all twelve months were complete, and you were repeating it all over again. Usually. Three months without Spencer Reid, however, went by achingly slowly. And you hadn't originally considered just how agonising they could be.

Each day was another painful mirror of the last, waking up and going to bed with the same sense of dread in your stomach, oftentimes swallowing you whole and leaving you unable to do just about anything at all.

Living life without Spencer Reid was hard.

You saw him — of course you did. Despite his original efforts to keep you off the approved visitors list, Penelope Garcia had seen one glimpse of your heart shattered expression upon being told, and marched her way to the prison to slap sense into him. You weren't sure if that was metaphoric or not.

However, seeing him once every other week and living with him were two very different situations. You hadn't realised just how much you had depended on him always being there when you woke up in the morning until you were waking up to cold bed sheets and a pillow clutched petulantly to your chest in hopes of recreating the warmth only Spencer could provide.

And then he was free.

From prison, that is. You hadn't heard it all — information about his time in prison had been kept from you in an attempt to protect your own peace of mind. But you knew from at least the bruises he was always sporting no matter when you went to visit him, that something awful had happened to him in there, and his own brain would keep him imprisoned for as long as it wished.

But he was free.

And he was here, and you were staring up at his face littered with unkempt facial hair and a head of untreated curls, and regardless of everything horrific he had endured brewing behind his eyes, he was staring at you with the same softness he had before any of this happened.

Despite the beginning of a protest when you wrapped your arms around his torso, you hugged him, and he hugged you, and even the faintest smell of grime and blood couldn't stop you from gripping onto him with so much force you thought your knuckles would break.

"You're real," you whispered into his chest, muffled by it, and it shook beneath your face as he laughed, quietly. Beautifully.

"I am," he answered, and you could feel him crushing his own facial features into the top of your head, no doubt inhaling your shampoo. "You're real."

"Yes," you confirmed with a nod.

Maybe hours passed, perhaps only minutes. Whichever it was, you were still reluctant to pull away from him until he did, your face stained with tear streaks you don't remember shedding, his own eyes glassy as your gazes met.

"You don't want to talk about it, do you?" you asked him, walking backwards as you led him out of the doorway you two had been finding solace in, and further into the apartment space you were ecstatic to share together again.

"Not particularly," he answered, strides catching up to you and encasing your waist between his hands, tugging your body closer to his own. "Is that okay?"

"As long as you promise not to keep it in," you replied, teeth chewing into your lower lip in a contemplative habit.

"I have counselling at work," he said, and you nodded, your facial features softening only a little — you knew him well enough to know he wouldn't enjoy said counselling sessions. Breath tickled your lips as he leaned in a little closer, inciting heat onto your cheeks. "Any other questions?"

"No," you replied, your own lips twitching in amusement. "That's it. Why?"

"Because I haven't kissed you in three months," he murmured, "and I want to."

"Maybe," you said with a hum, and he said your name chidingly, eliciting a laugh from you. "Yeah. Okay."

To be honest, you had spent a few too many nights allowing your thoughts to wander and end up dreaming about what it would be like to kiss him again. Whether or not either of you would have the patience to be gentle and kind to one another. In those nights, you had decided you would be. Your heart cracking every time you thought of Spencer alone in a concrete cell that it left you with a gaping hole in your chest. All you really wanted was to hold him and remind him how adored he was.

Right now, you learned you wouldn't be.

There was a tenderness in the way his hands found your cheeks to cup, and there was a softness in his fingertips against your skin. Yet, everything he kissed with was anything but. Feverish and quick, swallowing you whole and inspiring a spark in your chest that resulted in you kissing back just as hungry.

Just when you thought there was nothing left to trigger within him, a squeak left your lips as the result of him tugging you impossibly closer, and he was beginning to walk you backwards, even further into the apartment, his kiss growing all consuming.

"Spencer," you said, breathlessly, jerking your head back, staring at him, waiting for him to realise you weren't returning your lips to his, and his eyes opened.

"What?" he asked, almost irritatedly. When he watched the slight flicker of hurt flash on your face at the tone, his own expression became gentler. "I'm sorry. Is something wrong?"

Immediately, you shook your head. "No. I just wanted to check how far you wanted to go," your hands travelled up to his hair, fingers scratching gently against his scalp. "I know there's a lot going on up here."

"Actually, right now it's just you," he said, tilting a head to the side to lean into one of your palms. "It's mostly you all the time. But right now you're consuming it."

"I make such an impact on your life," you quipped.

"I know you're teasing, but you do," he replied, fingers tracing up and down either side of your jawline, eyes searching each small detail on your face he had no doubt already memorised. "I survived in there for you."

"Oh."

Probably not the most eloquent response for the things he had just confessed, but truly your brain had scrambled within an instant, and you weren't sure what to say.

"Sorry," he said, hands stilling on your face. "To answer your question, I don't know. I really missed you."

"I know," you said when a gaping silence followed his words. "We don't have to."

"I think I want to."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You can't think, Spence. You've gotta know."

"I've definitely said that to you before," he chided, thinking for a moment, before, "yes. I did. First time we had sex."

"Sue me for repeating important sexual advice to you, Spencer Reid," you huffed. He laughed.

"No, I mean, I do. Want to," he finally replied. "I'm really scared of hurting you."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"Then you won't," you reassured him, despite knowing whatever doubt he had in himself would not be resolved just like that, and it'll probably eat at his mind for a long while. "And even if you do, I won't be upset with you." When his face scrunched and his expression mirrored judgement, you stammered to clarify. "Not in a kinky way. Don't look at me like that, Spencer. Stop it. I just meant I'll understand. And I won't be mad."

"Didn't take you to be into masochism," he mumbled, and you groaned at his selective hearing, dropping your forehead to his shoulder, that shook with his laughter. "Kidding, honey. I know what you mean."

"Not funny."

"It was a little," he countered, a hand reaching up to entangle within your hair to pull your head back, gently, so he could look at you again.

"Hi," you said when your eyes locked once more.

"Hello," he answered, his lips pulling into a smile. "I'd like to kiss you again."

"You've used up your kiss for the day, actually," you replied, sweetly beaming up at him.

"Quiet," he shot back, leaning forwards and allowing his lips to brush hesitantly against yours, eyes searching your own with an added hint of desperation. "Please?"

You pretended to think for a moment too long, because he was already mumbling something that sounded a little like 'brat', and pressed his mouth to yours once more.

You couldn't complain.

It was the same intensity as earlier, and yet there was something in it that differentiated the homesickness of the kiss from then, and the desperation now. Large hands — that you would probably allow to encase you whole — pathetically held your face lightly, hips knocking with yours as he walked you backwards and up against the back of the couch.

"Spence," you whimpered embarrassingly, hands clawing at the sleeves of his suit jacket, trialling and failing at tugging it off his body.

"I got you, sweet girl," he mumbled against your lips, not breaking the kiss for even a second as he helped you, shrugging the jacket off and allowing it to fall to the floor — something he will certainly chastise himself for later.

"Bedroom," you said, in between heavy breaths and feverish kisses. A request he was more than happy to comply to, for he had nodded, and you were instantaneously tugging on one of his hands in the direction of the room, his eyes fixated on your body as he trailed behind.

"Missed you so much," he murmured as he tugged you back towards him the second he had kicked the door shut, lips finding the corner of your mouth, then your jawline, then your neck, as he kissed down you.

"So you've said," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as he gently nipped at the skin.

"Do you get off on being mean to me?" he chided, lifting his head to look at you again, and your heart stuttered.

"No. Just that dominance act that it brings out," you murmured, attempting to keep the mood light. Successfully so, for air huffed out of his nose as his lips twitched, fingers that had dropped to your waist squeezing it gently. In unresolved doubt, you added, "I missed you too. Don't worry."

"I'm not," he replied, and the weight lifted off your shoulders. "Lie down."

"So demanding," you teased, though his tone was anything but firm.

You were met with an unimpressed look, and you merely grinned back as you climbed onto the bed, sitting cross legged atop it, staring up at him expectingly.

Instead of moving over you like you had expected, he crouched at the foot of the bed, holding his hands out on the mattress in front of you. Needing no more than the simple gesture, you untangled your legs and stretched them out in front of you, and he tugged you down towards the end of the bed, breath hitting the skin of your thighs deliciously.

"I'm supposed to be making you feel good," you argued when his fingers trailed up the sides of your legs, finding the waistband of your pyjama shorts.

"Why?" he questioned, halting his movements as he searched your face.

"Because you're the one who just got out of prison," his face scrunched at the verbal reminder. "Sorry. But... yeah. I have thought about making you come the day you got home like daily."

"Oh have you?" his eyebrows shot up, and it was then that your brain caught up to your running mouth, and your cheeks heated up.

"Nope. Forget I said anything."

"No," he pushed himself up from the floor, moving his body over yours on the bed, successfully forcing you to lie back. "Tell me those thoughts."

"Spencer," you moaned, shaking your head as you buried your face into your hands, that he was a little too quick to catch and pry away.

"I'm not going to judge you," he said, amused. "In fact, I aspire to know every single thought there is up in that pretty head of yours. Especially the ones about me. Please tell me."

"I just thought about making you come. There's nothing more exciting to it."

"Yes, but how?"

"My mouth, I guess," you mumbled, voice going impossibly quiet. "I don't know."

"You're acting like you have never given me oral," he said, catching your gaze within milliseconds of you averting it, thumb and forefinger straightening your head again.

"Nobody says oral, Spencer. Say head," your own face now scrunched up.

"Lots of people say oral," he defended.

"Yeah, old people. We are not old people."

"Fine, you're acting like you have never given me head."

Despite it being a jab at him to take the heat off of you, the phrase coming out from his lips sounded exceptionally vulgar for what it was, and it only resulted in your stomach flipping.

Finally, you regained some control over your own thoughts, and you found it in you to reply. "That's what I want to do. Because I want to make you feel good."

"You underestimate how much I gain from making you feel good," he countered, fingers lazily caressing the skin of your jaw as his eyes studied your face with an intensity that had your stomach flipping.

"It cannot be as good as an orgasm," you huffed, stubbornly so.

He nipped at your nose. "It is."

"Can we compromise?"

"So you don't want me to give you oral?" his eyebrows rose.

In every other situation, you would not be fighting him on this. In fact, he would probably have already gotten his foreplay of teasing and teetering you on the edge out of the way by now, and you'd be well and truly content. However, the forefront of your mind was still plagued by how little time Spencer had to take care of himself, and the last thing you needed him to be was at your service. Despite his protests.

"Head," you corrected. "And no."

He searched for remnants of a lie for a few beats longer, before he nodded his head, giving in. "What's your compromise, honey?"

"I don't think there's a sexy way to say to just put it in me," you said, and his lips curled up into an amused smile, followed by a huff of laughter.

"No, I don't think there is," he agreed. "I do think anything you say can be sexy, though."

You pulled a face, and you shook your head. "No. Don't say that ever again either."

"I can't compliment you, I can't give you ora—head," he rattled off. "Is there anything good I get out of this?"

"You get to fuck me?" you batted your eyelashes up at him.

"Such vulgar language," he chastised, ducking his head when a hand of yours rose to swat him.

Despite himself, his head had dropped to the crook of your neck, and he had begun placing feather like kisses along the skin that distracted you just enough to drop your hand back to the mattress beneath you.

Any other day, and you'd probably still be bickering with him until the minute he made you come. However, three months without even the faintest of touches from him left you overwhelmed with everything he did to you, and so the gentle kisses trailing down to the collar of your shirt were enough to destroy any coherent thoughts you could have.

Cautiously, and with a touch so delicate, Spencer lifted your — his — shirt up your abdomen, fingertips leaving behind the warmest of trails as they skimmed along your skin. One quiet whine from you was all it took for him to hurry his teasing along, and soon enough your shirt was discarded.

A quiet, sharp inhale of air was the other sound aside from your quickened breathing, and you felt tears sting your vision as another kiss was placed just below your now exposed collarbone.

The time without you seemed to weigh nothing in his mind as he took every inch of you in separately, lips mapping out your body like it was the first time all over again, though still knowing exactly when to pause and pay attention to for the sweetest of sounds to be ripped from your throat.

He liked to hear you.

Fingers found your waist as his lips kissed down your sternum, then back up and over until they reached your nipple. He spent time on each breast, ignoring your impatient whining as he neglected the rest of you for a few minutes too long (in your opinion).

"Spencer," you scolded, and it was all it took for him to accept you were not in the mood to wait, and for him to decide he wasn't either.

"Sorry, honey," he replied, voice impossibly soft as he returned his lips to your face, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as his fingers found your shorts again. "Can I take these off?"

"I think we're incredibly out of balance," you replied. And though there wasn't really anything wrong with the sentence — you had certainly said it before — he still pulled back, an unrecognisable grey clouding his eyes. "What?"

"I want to keep my shirt on," was his response, the words inciting confusion to your face.

"What? Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

You wanted to scream that yes, he did. But did he? Wordlessly, you shook your head, but it didn't help the pang of worry in your chest.

"Unless there's something like an embarrassing tattoo, I'm not going to judge you," you decided to say instead. "Did you get an embarrassing tattoo in prison?"

"No," he shook his head, and you were comforted by the amusement in his tone. "I didn't have the best time in prison."

"I know," you replied.

"And I wasn't very liked. By the men in there."

You knew that too, to an extent. You knew the bruises on his face weren't self inflicted. "You're liked by me."

"I know, sweet girl," a heart shatteringly sad smile stretched across his face as a hand lifted to your cheek. "It just isn't very pretty. And I don't want you to worry."

Well, now you were. Regardless, you nodded your head, turning your head to the side so you could kiss the palm of the hand on your face. "I won't worry, then."

"I want to keep my shirt on. Can that please be okay with you?"

Silently, and after a debate inside your brain, you nodded your head. Gratefully, he pecked your lips once more, before his focus shifted back to you and your body.

"Shorts. Can I take them off?" he asked, again.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

His fingers collected the fabric of your shorts' waistband, and gently pulled them down your legs, cool air washing over you despite the final leftover article of clothing on your body. You shivered, and you could hear him mumbling nearly incoherent apologies as he kissed your stomach.

"These too?" he then asked, eyes flickering between your face for confirmation, and the pair of underwear you still had residing on your body. You nodded your head, and he pulled them down too.

You do not remember a time ever fearing being naked beneath Spencer Reid's gaze, and that did not change even now, as an arguably different man drank in your entire body, the love he had for you not having wavered despite the passing of time.

And you certainly did not fear the way one of his hands slid up your leg, seemingly soothingly, until it teetered on the edge of too far up the limb to be innocent, and he was intensely watching your face for every reaction you could possibly make.

Achingly gently, his middle finger ran up the centre, collecting arousal you hadn't realised was there and knuckle gently bumping your clit, eliciting a quiet mewl from you. You watched him smile at the sound, dragging his finger back down, gathering more of your arousal until he was pushing the finger in.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the feeling oh so familiar, and yet seemingly foreign all at once. Too long, you decided then. Three months is too long.

Leaning back down, his lips brushed your jawline, the otherwise odd sensation of there being something — someone — inside of you balancing out with the pleasure that came from the comfort of it being him. And of course the delicate circles his thumb had begun to draw on your clit.

"Did you do this while I was in prison?" he asked you, lips moving against your skin.

"Touch myself?"

"Mhm."

"Yeah," you said, voice breathless. "Was never good, though."

"No?" he asked, curling his finger inside of you and tugging a louder moan from your throat. "Why not?"

"Just never felt as nice. Not like you."

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel," he murmured, pulling his lips away so he could look at you again. Though, your eyes were still planted shut. "I'll make up for it then, yeah?"

You feverishly nodded your head, and he laughed. Fulfilling his promise, he sped up the motions of his finger and thumb, your hands grabbing ahold of fistfuls of the sheets, in hopes that it will provide some comfort from the overwhelming feeling of Spencer touching you again.

"Can I add another finger?" he asked, and though slightly hesitant, you nodded your head.

He waited a beat longer before fulfilling your request, and there was something obscene about how easily another finger entered you. Though, Spencer thought it was pretty, and your back arching was pretty, and yes, he had missed this and he had missed you and he was biting his tongue from telling you that all over again.

"Spencer," a delicately breathy whine left your lips when the heel of his palm collided with your clit — thumb long forgotten once he had gotten distracted with thrusting fingers in and out of you.

"Hm?"

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, the kindest smile on his face reminding you just how much he adored you, and your heart sporadically beat in your chest. When you didn't say anything else, he quickened his ministrations, eliciting more whines and moans.

"Is two orgasms too much for tonight?" he asked you, the question seemingly innocent regardless of both it's undertones, and what he was currently doing to you.

In hindsight you should've probably said yes. It most certainly would've hurried things along to something he would enjoy as much as you. However, if Spencer Reid fingering you was a religion, you were an eternally loyal follower, and you would do anything to keep him there for as long as you could.

So you shook your head, murmuring a quiet, "No. I can do two," and allowing him to fasten his fingers once more.

Fingers found and massaged that spot inside of you he had probably engrained into his brain, and he was leaning down to swallow the loud moan that followed from the feeling. Practiced motions tore the same sounds from your throat as he repeatedly brushed up against it, until your eyes were forced to squeeze shut once more, and hands that were once seeking solace in the sheets, found his wrist and wrapped around it.

"I can't move if you're going to keep my arm locked up, angel," he said when your nails dug into his wrist, lips smiling against your skin.

A few short jerks of his hand convinced you to let go of the death grip you had on him, instead returning them to the mattress.

Then he was doing that motion again, and again, and you were silently praying he would never stop. Although, if your moans were any indication to where you were at — and they were — Spencer wouldn't.

Your hips bucking told him more than he needed to know, and the absence of his body above you when he lay down on the bed next to you was long forgotten when a splayed hand on your abdomen pushed you back down into the mattress, your heart stuttering at the feeling.

Gentle whines of his name, and a repeated mantra of 'please, please, please' was the only thing your otherwise dismantled brain could come up with, and Spencer was relishing in the knowledge that he was doing this to you. And though it is something he knows he's done before, it had been far too long since and the reminder was always welcome.

"I know, sweet girl," he said against you when your eyes came open and searched his desperately, walls fluttering around his fingers indicating just how close you were.

"Please don't stop."

"I won't," he confirmed, punctuating the promise with his thumb returning to your clit. He had your best interest in mind — you knew that. He now wouldn't stop even if you begged him to.

Overwhelming seemed too insignificant of a word to describe what you felt like when you came, nerve endings all over your body sparking, instead of just the ones he was stimulating.

His thumb rubbing circles and his fingers thrusting in and out of you didn't falter until your shaking body had stilled and your strings of moans had diminished, slowly coming to a stop and leaving your body — seemingly — as fast as they had entered.

The content smile on your face was interrupted with Spencer's hand lifting to your lips, and instinctively you parted them, already knowing exactly what he was after.

His middle and ring fingers entered your mouth, and your face scrunched up despite yourself as you tasted yourself on them. He laughed at that — of course he did — and pulled them out soon after.

"You do that every time," he murmured, hair tickling your skin as he placed open mouthed kisses over your shoulder, up towards your neck.

"It tastes weird," you argued, and his teeth nipping your skin told you he disagreed. Though, he wasn't in the mood to argue, for he didn't say anything else on the matter.

"Still got it in you for one more?" he asked you, pulling his head back so he could see you once again.

"Yes."

"Good."

Your eyes watched him even as he rolled back to take his pants off, and the awkward smile he gave you provided the inkling of comfort that there was still the man from three months prior in there.

"I really missed you, you know?" This time it was you saying it, piercing the air as his hand came down between your thighs to part them. The head of his cock nudged against you, brushing delicately through your folds and eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips.

"I know," he answered, pressing kisses on your shoulder once more. "Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine," you confirmed with a nod, confusion crossing your features all up until you learned why he was asking.

A broken moan, choked and caught in your throat, left you when he painstakingly slowly pushed inside of you. There's not a lot going on inside your mind when he stops, your entire body aflame and equally desperate for more, as you were for him to take a moment here.

"I love you," he breathed out, the words hurried and encouraging your heart to speed up, and your mind to melt even more.

"I love you too," you said back, voice just as quiet, gently nudging hips ushering for him to move.

"Impatient girl," he muttered, but you smiled nonetheless because he did (move).

His thrusts were slow, and gentle, but you never truly minded how much time he took with you once you two were here. Even more so now, for you were on the same page as him, and you wanted to savour every single moment of this down to the second.

A whimper left your lips, followed closely by the desperate whisper of his name, and lips that were still resting against your shoulder smiled.

"I thought about this a lot," he said to you, his hand that was holding your thighs slightly open sliding up to find your clit. "I definitely shouldn't have."

"Why?" You knew why, but the thought of hearing him answer it aloud excited you a little.

Unfortunately, he knew you better than that. "Don't play coy. You know why, honey."

"You're cruel," you huffed, and he laughed, rolling his hips to meet yours, earning another moan. "Maybe I don't."

"Use that wonderful imagination of yours, then," he answered, rubbing your clit at the same time as he moved his hips once more, effortlessly rendering you unable to respond to him again.

A teenage boy probably could've lasted longer than the both of you, but you decided to blame it all on your already sensitive nerves from a prior orgasm, and the fact that Spencer Reid had not had you like this for over 2190 hours (not that he was counting).

Whimpers escaped your throat as he kept his hips thrusting into you at an achingly slow pace, while his fingers working on your clit did anything but. It was an aching juxtaposition that left you reeling for more, and Spencer was now the one shutting his eyes so he could hold onto some semblance of composure.

"Spencer," you pleaded, and it was a quiet moan from behind you that told you he was exactly where you were.

"I know, honey," he replied, the desperation in his voice jumpstarting your heart. "Need to come, yeah?"

"Mmhm," you nodded your head quickly, breathlessly moaning. "Please."

"You're going to. Don't worry. Don't need to beg, sweet girl."

Commingled moans and obscenely wet noises filled the air, and your hips stuttered as your stomach twisted into knots.

Chanting his name like a prayer, you meet him wherever your two souls go in that moment, and it's a shuddering feeling as you come at the same time as him. For the first time in forever.

His hand drops back to your thigh and he massages the muscles there gently, willing himself to stop before he crossed the line of overstimulation — not that you think you'd complain about that.

There was an emptiness when he pulled out, but then he was kissing you again to make up for it, and you were smiling against his lips as you kissed him back. This time, without the fever.

"How're you feeling?" he asked you, quietly.

"Happy," you answered, forcing your heavy eyelids open when he pulled back. "How are you feeling?"

"Also happy," he agreed, and your heart soared.

"Good."

"You need to go pee," he said, placing another kiss on your cheek, before he leaned his body away entirely.

"Help?"

Arguably, you could do it yourself. Your limbs were tired, yes, and your mind was melting, but you were coherent enough to brave it alone.

Thankfully, you didn't have to.

He carried you to the bathroom, running the bath water after you had silently begged him for it with your eyes (looking between him and the empty bath with wide eyes and a jutted lip worked wonders), and leaving you to pee.

"Are you getting in with me?" you asked him as wobbly legs akin to a fawn carried you over to the now full and steaming bathtub.

"Do you want me to?"

Hesitantly, you nodded your head, fidgeting with your fingers in front of you. "But you'd have to take your shirt off. So you don't have to."

He studied your face for a moment longer, before he nodded, and fingers expertly worked at unbuttoning down the shirt.

"I'm okay now. That's the important thing you have to remember, okay?" his words provided little comfort, but you nodded your head regardless.

You had a suspicion already of what sight you were going to be met with, but it didn't stop the guilt settling into your chest when the shirt fell to the floor anyways.

"Spence," you murmured, taking a hesitant step forwards, heart falling to your stomach.

Bruises littered the skin, some fresh and still purple, others nearly healed and yellowing. But there were so many, and it was then that you were swallowing the rest of him in with your eyes, catching the bandage on his thigh.

"What is that?" you nodded towards the covered wound, and when your eyes returned to his face again, he was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

"A lot happened," he answered, quietly, before repeating, "I'm okay now."

You nodded your head, tears stinging your vision for nothing more than your ridiculous amount of empathy. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I will," he promised. "Eventually. Just not now, okay? I haven't processed it all yet."

"Okay," you replied, and his heart shattered at the sight of a tear slipping down your face.

"Hey," he took ahold of your hand and tugged you closer to him, fingers running through your hair and resting at the base of your scalp. "I promise, honey. I'm not going to disintegrate from a few bruises."

"It isn't just a few," you answered, voice wavering. "There's so many."

"You have a heart too big for your chest," he decided to say instead, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. "Most of them don't even hurt now. Please believe me when I say I'm okay."

"I'm trying," your voice is thick with a sob caught in your throat. "I think I'm just really tired."

"Yeah," he crooned, agreeing. "Your body's released a lot of prolactin, which encourages sleep. Alongside the endorphins and dopamine that you're crashing from upon seeing this."

Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and he kissed the tip of your nose in an attempt to comfort.

"Bath, then we can sleep, and we can talk more in the morning," he listed off, and you merely nodded your head once more, sniffling and wiping your eyes.

"Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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cvnntagious · 12 days ago

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:: babydaddy!matt doesn't like your attitude

"this's what you wanted, huh?" matt spoke through gitted teeth, fingers digging into your hips as his own snapped to meet them, "actin' like a fuckin' prick all day f'some dick."

you whined, practically drooling beneath him. he was practically cradling you as his dick massaged your insides with an intense rigor. "matt-!" your plea came out in a high pitched moan, causing a small grin to tug at matt's pink lips.

he'd only just gotten started with you, but when he felt your walls fluttering around him as you trembled, he knew you were close. "what, baby, can't take it anymore?" he asked in a cocky tone, ego growing with each submissive noise you gave him.

matt got off on the idea of fucking that salty little attitude out of you, tired of you always finding reasons to argue with him. it was always 'mazzy can't do this,' and 'i don't trust that'. all he wanted was for you to stop bitchin' and complainin' all the time— he wanted you to just slobber all over yourself, repeating his name like a prayer.

his hand reached between your bodies, thumb moving to rub tight circles on your clit. you couldn't help the way your grasp on his biceps tightened, your pussy threatening to explode all over him. "matt, gonna- gonna cum," you warned, back arching off his mattress with curled toes.

you'd tried so hard to be good for him, holding off on cumming without his express permission after giving in to the way he handled you and your pissy words what felt like a few moments prior. you just couldn't. you felt your body shake in an almost violent manner, matt not giving up in his relentless pace when he felt you cream around him.

your moans and his groans filled the room (and most likely the house), making the two of you grateful for chris and nick having taken mazzy to the park.

w/c : ?

a/n : divider by issysh3ll

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

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youraverageaemondsimp · 4 months ago

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A brother's betrayal. // Aemond Targeryen x Aegon's Wife!Reader

Summary: You hear about your husband's injury and immediately rush over to visit him, you were devastated to see him in such a state, mere moments later, the cause of his injury steps in the room, his brother.

WARNINGS: dubious consent(?), choking, manhandling, rough sex, physical assault (nothing much, reader just slaps aemond), slight aegon x reader, season 2 spoilers, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v sex, TRAUMA, ANGST ANGST ANGST, dacryphilia, profanity, reader goes through the suffering of war, mentions of b&c but it happened to the reader, reader has a child with aemond and as well as aegon, mentions of childloss, manipulation, toxicity + not proofread

Could be read as part 2 of "A brother's duty." or alone!

WC: 3k

A/N: yeah idk why I wrote this, perhaps I wanted angst but yeah, like it's mentioned this can be read as a part 2 or stand alone! divider credits: @cafekitsune

You rushed to Aegon's chambers the moment you had heard of his injury, footsteps echoing through the halls loudly, you had received the news that he had gotten burnt badly on one of his sides.

The door to his chamber was wide open, and you entered hastily inside, only to find the maesters and Alicent already in the room, you could tell by her demeanour that she was greatly troubled, you went over to her side and gasped the moment you looked at Aegon. “Is he dead?” You ask, voice trembling with sorrow and Alicent shakes her head, “No.” She swallows.

“My dear, you should probably leave, you cannot be watching this all whilst also grieving…” Alicent trails off, not wanting to mention your son. You shook your head, trying to stay strong.

You were watching the maesters for a few moments, when you felt the presence enter the room, It was Aemond.

Aemond walked in quietly and rested his hands on the sides of the bed, he was looming over Aegon’s body with a menacing stature

He turned and stared at you.

And you swore you saw a glint of satisfaction on his expression.

You felt like throwing up.

You snapped your head away from his direction when you heard Aegon huffing for air, sniffling when you looked at the raw wounds, tears glazed your eyes, looking at your husband in such a state.

He wasn't able to breathe properly, taking sharp breaths for he couldn't inhale, there was a pit forming in your stomach as you stared further, the maesters treated his wounds, you felt helpless.

Aemond still hasn't left the room yet, watching you sob for his brother, he furrowed his brows in annoyance.

“Somebody would need to rule in his stead.” Aemond speaks and you were in disbelief, his brother is hurt badly and those are the first words he speaks? He doesn't even ask the maesters if his brother is alive.

Alicent glares at him, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Your grace, I advise you all leave the chamber, we are about to begin the second treatment, and it isn't pleasant on the eyes.” The maester informs you and you nod slowly, feeling devastated after seeing your husband in such a horrible position.

Alicent walks out first in a hurry, probably going to Ser criston cole to inquire about what happened.

But you knew.

Aemond was definitely involved with this.

You walk out slowly, Aemond following you out right behind you, you tried your best to ignore him and walk away, but bubbling rage simmered inside you, knowing that he was at fault for this.

Your wrist was grabbed harshly by Aemond before he pulled you into a small corridor and slammed you against the wall. The rage you tried to hold in so badly bursted out in flames. You slapped Aemond across the face.

He was shocked.

The shock was quickly replaced by anger as he grabs your neck, holding you against the wall and tightens his grip around your neck, you feel yourself getting light headed from losing air.

“It was you- wasn't it?” You choke out angrily and Aemond smirks, closing his grip further. Your mind began to spin, you clawed at his arm trying to get him to release you, yet it's all in vain.

“Why are you upset?” He genuinely questions and loosens his grip slightly, you look at him dumbfounded, in disbelief that he doesn't feel the weight of this situation right now.

“How can I not be?! You've tried to kill your own brother! My Lord husband! Your King!” You yell at him, and he shakes his head, “It was a mistake- he happened to get caught in the crossfire—”

“Oh save the excuses, Aemond.” You scoff and he immediately releases his hold on your neck, making you cough as you try to inhale air, whilst gently massaging the area he grabbed.

“You and I, we both know that there is no chance that you would happen to mistakenly burn him, you plotted it, all for what?” You ask, staring right into his eye. “For his throne? For the power? What have you achieved through this? You've lost a dragon, your stupid decision will cost us a great loss to us.” You try to feed him common sense, yet the expression on his face remains unchanged.

“I did this for the years of humiliation I had endured, I deserve this as compensation, don't you think?” He whispers menacingly and you feel shivers up your spine. “You want him to compensate with his life? Have you lost it?” You argue.

“I've lost everything I wanted to him.” He twists up an answer, “He isn't worthy of a dragon, yet sunfyre was hatched to him, he isn't worthy of the power, yet it was given to him, he isn't worthy of being a king, yet he is, he isn't worthy of you, yet he has you.” Aemond grits his teeth in anger.

“Everything I wanted was given to him. All because he was the first born, is it not unfair?” He looks you in the eyes. You look down, closing your eyes; taking deep breaths. “But he doesn't deserve such a punishment.” You mumble.

Aemond grabs your shoulders gently, his touch now more forgiving than previously, he hooks his index finger under your jaw and tilts your head to face him. His thumb softly caresses your check. “I did this for us.” He sighs and you shake your head. “You had admitted yourself that you do not love Aegon, so why does it bother you so much?” He pries.

“Because I care for him as his wife, he may not have been the best husband, yet he was understanding.” You begin “In fact, he was the reason why we were both able to discover each other.” You finish.

Aemond is reminded of the past you three had shared, an utmost act of depravity and desperation, you had been shared by the brothers with a mutual agreement, he had to admit, his brother was indeed the reason why he was able to finally have you.

“And he mourned in your stead at the loss of our son, even though he knew it wasn't his.” You grit your teeth, clenching them as grief overwhelms you at the thought of your son, who had been a victim of murder. “While you were fucking your whore.” You recalled.

You were angry with Aemond for a lot of reasons, how could he betray his own family? He had been absent the night your son was murdered, and he hasn't shown any emotion since then. “You are aware that I cannot mourn publicly for our son.” He reasoned but you scoffed, “What about in private? Have you ever told me that you felt sorry? Have you ever tried to comfort me? It was Aegon who reached out to me when I was grieving.” You cry out, all the pain you were holding in your heart pouring out.

“He must've been a great person to you, but he hasn't to me.” Aemond counters back, and you let out a heavy sigh, not wanting to argue anymore, this war has taken a toll on you.

It felt like you were talking to a wall, pushing off his hand and turning to leave, but you are immediately stopped by Aemond blocking your escape with his arm.

“It might not look like it, but I too am grieving for the loss of our son.” He whispers, “I want to destroy the ones who caused this, and Aegon being in the rule will not let it happen easily, he is an idiot.” He tries justifying his actions, but you only glare at him.

“So you will be succeeding in his stead?” You ask and he nods, “Jaehaerys, my son, Aegon's heir, is still alive.” You furrow your brows, “Unless.. Don't tell me you're planning to take that child away from me too? For your greediness?” You question and he shakes his head “He is a child, the council will decide who will be the best candidate.” He replies.

“I can't believe you, Aemond, I barely recognize the man you've become.” You weep, Aemond pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you into a hug, you do not hug him back.

“I sometimes wish that it was Jaehaerys who died instead of our son Rhaegar.” He mutters and you push away from the hug, looking at him with disgust. “You picked him, did you not?” Aemond hits the sore spot, reminding you of the incident in detail.

“They made me choose.” You breath heavily, body trembling as you recall the traumatic night, “And you chose to keep Jaehaerys.” He clenches his teeth in anger. “No.” You reply.

“What?” He questions.

“I chose Rhaegar to keep, but they were cruel and killed him instead.” Tears stream down your face, “I did not want to choose, I did not want to choose! I do not favour any of my sons above each other, I could barely escape with Jaehaerys in time.” You sniff, fists clenching as you recall the incident.

His eye widened at the revelation.

The main reason for him not mourning for Rhaegar was the anger he held towards you for choosing Jaehaerys over his son, yet he couldn't take it out on you as you were grieving too, but something about this provided him comfort.

He's sick in the head, he feels happy knowing you'd always choose him, his blood, his legacy.

He wipes your tears away, “I apologise, it was insensitive of me.” He wipes the tears off your cheek with the sleeve of his clothes, you couldn't help but stare at him.

He pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, giving you all the affection you need to calm down, kissing your forehead, rubbing your back, holding your hand in reassurance. You found it odd.

You bask in his momentary comfort for a bit before you hear footsteps and push him away, running off in the other direction towards the nursery, where your son Jaehaerys resided.

The council meeting ended with the conclusion that Aemond would be the prince regent.

Excited would be an understatement, he finally has the power he wanted.

They immediately begin to plan for the next step to take in the war.

The evening fell swiftly, Aegon had been treated to the best of the maesters ability, and you visited him on the eve, still not being able to stomach the sight. You had bought Jaehaerys in when the maesters had covered up all his wounds.

Jaehaerys rushed over to his father's side, “Mother, what has happened to father?” He asks you, wondering why his dad was in such a terrible state, “He got injured.” You reply, “Who hurt him?” He asks unknowingly, you bite your lip, and shake your head, “It is unknown, he got hurt in the war.” You tell him and he nods.

Aegon was taking in gasps of air, as he was not able to breathe normally, his eyes remained shut.

You and Jaehaerys both stayed in the chamber for a while, you watched in sorrow as Jaehaerys rambled on and on to his father about the things he did the time he was gone. You smiled when he leaned in close to whisper in his dad's ear, likely something he doesn't want you to know.

You wondered if Rhaegar would also be spending time with Aemond, if he wasn't—

You cut yourself off from the thoughts. Refusing to entertain them further, because you had to be strong.

“Jaehaerys, let's leave, your father probably needs rest, it's best not to bother him anymore.” You extend your hand out, Jaehaerys rushes over and grabs it with his tiny hand, before saying his goodbye to his father and leaving the chamber with you. You swore you heard him say your name but you brushed it off thinking that it was probably your mind.

The child's room was heavily guarded now, with more than four knights just looking after him. You felt safer but it did not undo the anxiety you still had.

You read Jaehaerys a bedtime story, to which he fell asleep quickly too, you kissed him on the forehead and left the room. You did not want to, but you had to.

Because the prince regent has called for you.

You rushed to his chambers.

“You called for me?” You waste no time, asking him upon entering and he nods, you felt his demeanour change completely, he seemed entirely different now. There was a vast contrast in his personality from the morning.

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

He could not be serious.

“Aemond, are you out of your mind-” He cuts you off, grabbing you by your hand and pulling you into a kiss. You wanted to resist, you wanted to push him away, but the minute his lips came in contact with yours, you melted.

It felt wrong.

It was wrong.

But something in the rhythm of his lips held a sweet melody that comforted you. You sighed heavily, your lips moving against his, reciprocating his feelings.

His hand snaked around your waist pulling you close against his body, flushing yours with his, he held your face tightly with his other hand, caressing your cheek while kissing you. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders for support.

He pulls away momentarily looking at you, searching for approval in your eyes but you pull him back into the kiss, indicating that you do want this.

He picks you up all of a sudden, you shriek in surprise grabbing tightly onto him to balance yourself, he takes you to his bed, laying you down and continuing to kiss you.

He pushes you further up the bed, you spread your legs to accommodate him as he continues to pepper your lips and cheeks with his kisses.

You flip around the position so that you're now on top, catching him by surprise, you climb onto his lap, straddling him before showering his neck with kisses. His hands busy themselves with undoing your dress, pulling at the strings that are holding the top part of your dress together.

You gasp for air, pulling from the kiss and looking him in the eye. He pushes a few stray strands away from your face, tucking them behind your ear, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip to collect the wetness that resided there.

“Gevie.” (beautiful) He whispers, staring at you in awe.

You hug him, laying on his chest, before finally breaking down, crying onto his shoulders, clinging onto his clothes. He caresses your head, comforting you.

He flips the position around again, now he's on top of you.

You lay there, staring at him with teary eyes, his tongue coming in contact with your cheek, licking up the droplet of tears, you felt butterflies in your gut. He kisses your eyes before he pulls back.

He sits back on his haunch, pushing your skirt up, bunching it up against your thighs before he pulls off the stockings you had on. Your thighs trembled when you felt his cool hand graze against them.

He threw them off the bed before he hooked his hands underneath your thigh, pulling you down as he went down underneath your skirt.

His lips caught your sensitive bud immediately, latching onto it for dear life. You grabbed his head out of instinct, hips lifting up slightly. You spread your legs wider, making it easier for him. His tongue swirled around your entrance before he swiped it up, latching onto your clit again.

He suckled onto it, the sensation drew you insane, you gasped for air, whining slightly as Aemond continued his ministrations.

You felt the familiar itchiness begin to bloom in your lower abdomen, you grind your face against his in desperation, wanting to feel the sweet feeling which you haven't felt for a while, and your wish comes true when your body convulses as the pleasure overtakes it.

You let out a loud moan of his name, making him groan in pleasure as well.

He lets you ride out your orgasm before he pulls apart, licking his lips, tasting your juices once again. He doesn't waste anymore time before undoing his breeches, pulling them halfway. His tip was leaking.

You waited in anticipation as Aemond positioned himself between your legs, pushing his cock into your cunt. You gripped the bedsheets when you felt the stretch. He hooked both of your legs onto his shoulders before he moved.

His movement showed desperation, his thrusts were hard and rough, he gripped your thighs harshly, leaving his nail bites onto your soft flesh. Your mind was spinning from the way he moved inside you, your body arched in pleasure.

He pushes your legs against your chest, hunching over as he moves faster, his tip kissed your sweet spot gently, He trembled moaning at the way your cunt clenched around his cock.

“Fuck fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He praises, his rhythm beginning falter, you blush at his words, clenching around him once again that drove him inside.

His cock penetrated your walls with utmost determination and precision to make you finish first before he did, your sweet spot was being poked over and over again, he understood that when you would gasp loudly.

The repeated disturbance caused a fire prickling in your stomach before you felt it suddenly go out, its smoke spreading all throughout your body, blinding you as you felt lightheaded.

“Oh fuck Aemond!” You threw your head back, hands clenching against the sheets tightly as the intense pleasure hit you hard.

He moaned loudly too, his cock spurted out his seed inside you, painting your walls with his essence. He collapsed on top of you immediately right after, his body giving up finally.

You both caught your breaths slowly, letting the feelings soak in, you felt a wet droplet on your shoulder trail down, and then another one, it began to continue like rain. You realised that Aemond was crying.

You held him closely, hugging him.

You did not say anything, letting him cry his feelings out of his body through the tears.

You both basked in the fleeting moment of comfort as you knew that nothing will ever go back to the way it was before.

Aemond knew too, he had become a monster in your eyes.

A monster you loved.

No,

A monster you still love.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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logansdoll · 3 months ago

Text

the fate of the entire world came down to a race against time, the future of all mutants resting on logan's shoulders... but a little detour wouldn't hurt, right?

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, takes place during the events of Days Future Past, Logan was kind of an ass, reader is kinda that girl, angst if you squint, idk if i timed the timeline right or not so whatevs, etc.

"I'm sorry... what are we doing here, again?" Hank asked, confused, as the three men marched through the hallway of an apartment complex.

"I need to find someone," Logan answered, curtly, eyes scanning over the numbers on each door.

'37... 37... 37...'

Charles let out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose, "See, that's so funny because last I checked you said we were in a crunch for time."

He stopped in his tracks, Hank pausing mid-walk to turn to him, while Logan came to a standstill just ahead.

"If we have time to take detours, then I'm starting to believe the situation isn't as dire as you described."

Hank swallowed thickly, turning to Logan in expectation of some sort of blowout.

Despite having only known the man for a few of hours, he could tell he had a dangerously short fuse, and wouldn't take kindly to Charles's attitude.

And he'd be right.

Whipping around, Logan stormed over and grabbed the telepath by the collar, brows furrowed as he roughly yanked him closer.

"I just got sent back in the past fifty-fucking-years... And before I do another goddamn thing, there is someone I have to see," he growled, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Do you got a problem with that, bub?"

Charles paused a moment, eyes scanning over the man before him.

In that instant, he wanted nothing more than to read his mind—to see what was going on in that complicated head of his.

But, alas, he couldn't, so for the sake of everyone, he settled for the safer option.

"Fine with me," he raised his hands in surrender, letting out a sigh as Logan abruptly let him go, turning to go back to his search. "And if I'm not mistaken... thirty-seven would be about five doors down to your right."

Logan glanced back at him, his expression a cross between annoyed and less annoyed.

He'd deal with him later.

But in the meantime, he sped past the next five doors as fast as he could, turning to his right to see what played the setting to some of his best dreams.

A red door, with paint chipping near the hinges, and a crooked 37 and poorly covered claw marks from when he stumbled in drunk one night.

'Just like I left it...'

It wasn't long before the memories came rolling back, reminding him of what he was coming back to.

"You sure you have to go?" you hummed, gathering the sheets to cover your chest and sitting up in the bed, watching as he put on some pants.

Logan nodded, moving to grab his wife-beater, "Yeah, I got some things to take care of... I should be back in a few days."

Turning toward the bed, he smirked at your sleepy form, your bed-head and tired eyes insanely sexy.

"You know what to do while I'm gone, right?"

"Check the peephole before I open, and aim for the nuts," you recited with a yawn.

He smiled, snatching his leather jacket off your chair before striding toward the bed, placing a quick peck on your lips

"I'll be back soon," he promised, swiping a stray stand of hair out your face.

You smiled, looking up at him through your lashes with your beautiful, (e/c) eyes, "I'll be waiting."

When Logan snapped himself out of it, he was still standing in front of the door, the chunk of wood the only thing keeping you two apart.

He was about to knock, but stopped mid-way, hesitant.

What if you'd moved on? Forgotten him in the meantime...

"I'll be waiting," your words echoed in his head.

He sighed, steeling his nerves, before quickly knocking.

There was a moment of silence before the lock clicked, the knob turning and door swinging open to reveal you.

The air caught in Logan's throat as he got a good look at you, his eyes raking up and down your body.

You looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

'That was too quick...'

"You didn't check the peephole," he stated, unable to come up with anything else to say.

Without warning, the sound of a particularly harsh slap echoed throughout the hallway, Charles and Hank flinching at the noise.

"Okay, I deserve that."

"You absolute fucking asshole!" you spat, voice disbelieving of the sight in front of you. "Who the hell do you think you are?!"

Because of your mutation you aged like he did, so you weren't exactly younger looking per se, but you had a youthful vibrance to you.

Your hair was sensually tousled—most likely from just waking up—your skin glowing in the mid-morning sunlight, and your silk robe coming up extra high on your legs, along with hanging extra low on your chest.

You looked sexier than any lingerie model out there.

A fact the other two quite agreed with at the moment.

"Hel-lo," Charles smiled, shamelessly, Hank just silently staring.

"Watch it," Logan threatened, venom dripping from his tone as he shifted to stand in front of you, blocking your body from their view.

"You have no business being here," your brows furrowed as you grabbed the door, attempting to shut it. "Get lost."

"(n/n), I came to see you," Logan grunted, shoving his foot between the door and the frame. "Let me in."

"No!" you scoffed, pushing against the door to try and shut him out. "You don't get to do that! You don't get to leave for eight months and then waltz right back in my life like nothing happened!"

"I got into some shit, alright? Some really bad shit... I couldn't bring that back here."

"Then call! Or... Or write! Fuck! I would've been happy with a goddamn carrier pigeon!"

"I didn't have any of that crap—" "For eight months?!"

With a groan, he rolled his shoulder, giving the door a quick blow and knocking it open, forcing you back and allowing him in.

Quickly, you reached your hand out toward your philodendron, sprouting large vines and using them to grab Logan's wrists, holding him in place.

"(y/n), I don't have a lotta time," he grunted, struggling against their hold, to no avail, "Let me go..."

"For eight months," you started, voice small as you approached him, "I thought you were dead."

Logan halted his thrashing, turning to you with a softened look.

Your expression was now one of hurt rather than rage.

"I know the work you do... and after three months of nothing I started thinking the worst..."

You stopped in front of him, turning to the large array of plants carefully placed around the room, making the apartment look more like a greenhouse than anything.

"I used every damn plant in my range to try and find you... and when I got nothing, I knew that you were gone."

Suddenly, you poked a finger into his chest, eyes glazed with relief as you looked upon his face.

A face you'd never thought you'd see again.

"So no... you do not get to come back after all this time just to see me."

Slowly, your hold on his wrists began to loosen, and he lowered his hands, stepping forward to stand right in your space.

"You're a selfish... narcissistic... cocky son of a bitch, and—"

Logan suddenly snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"And?"

You swallowed thickly, staring up at him with your glassy, doe eyes.

"And I hate you."

He chuckled, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

"I love you, too, dollface."

And before you could even retort, his lips were on yours, roping you right back into him.

The kiss was hungry... passionate. Like he'd been waiting a lifetime to get his hands on you again.

And he had.

Never in his wildest dreams did Logan ever believe he'd be able to kiss you again... to have you in his arms.

It was worth the detour and more.

Honestly, even if he didn't manage to save the world, he'd die a happy man.

With a gasp, you both broke away from the kiss, your chest heaving as you looked up at the man—who was looking down at you like you'd just hung the sun in the sky.

Slowly, his calloused hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

"(n/n)... I'm gonna tell you some instructions, and you gotta trust me and follow them to the letter,, alright?" Logan started, seriously.

"What? Logan, what are you—?"

"Please," he pleaded. "I know you don't deserve the shit I put you through, but believe me when I tell you that you need to listen to what I have to say..."

Letting out a slow sigh, you agreed, nodding for him to continue.

"In a month, I want you to pack up your things. Your cloths, your plants, all of it, and travel up to Westchester County, New York," he explained, pulling a crumpled card out his jacket pocket. "Go to this address, and you'll find these guys."

He turned to point at Charles and Hank, who were still standing in the doorway, awkwardly.

"Hello," Hank waved, sweetly.

"They have a huge mansion... and you gotta stay there until I can find my way back."

"Find your way back?" you asked, confused, as you took the card from his hand. "Logan, I don't understand... I don't even know who these guys are..."

"You just have to trust me, doll," he assured, his free hand carding through your hair. "Besides, I don't like you bein' in the city by yourself, anyway—" "We really should be going now," Charles chimed, clearing his throat.

Logan let out a sigh, turning back to you and scanning over your face a final time.

God, you were so beautiful.

"Wait for me a little longer?" he asked, nervous.

But to his surprise, you smiled, your hand sliding down to hold his, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles.

"Against my better judgement..." you sighed, lightheartedly. "You better come back to me, Logan."

He cracked a grin, placing a feather-light kiss on your hairline.

"I always do."

bonus !! The three men didn't even make it halfway down the hallway before Logan turned to the two, his hardened expression a complete contrast from the smile he flashed you before he left.

"Listen up," he started, voice dangerously low. "Either of you try to make moves on my girl while I'm gone, I will personally come back and mount your head on a spike. Consequences be damned."

Quickly, Charles used what little power he had to scan over Logan's mind, checking to see if he truly meant what he said.

And he did.

In fact, he was so dead serious about the threat that it actually scared Charles quite a bit.

"Got it?"

Charles and Hank turned to each other, sharing the same knowing look.

"Yup."

"Absolutely."

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

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dewwinchester · 3 months ago

Text

stitches | d.w.

synopsis: dean texts you for help, and you drop everything for him.

requested by: @dingo-ate-my-hot-lettuce-crazy

pairing: pre-series!dean winchester x reader

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: fluff, some angst, john winchester, blood, wounds/injury, stitching up wounds, typical spn series warnings. no use of y/n, no pronouns used!

a/n: if john winchester has no haters, i'm dead <33 also, it's currently 12am, so if the editing is a little wonky, pls forgive me

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as you navigated through the torrential downpour hammering down around you and your car. The rain was relentless, blinding you as it pounded against the windshield. The smell of wet asphalt filled your car as the tires slipped on the rain-soaked road. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears – a mixture of adrenaline from trying to avoid a horrific car wreck and anxiety from the message still illuminating your car in a dim light.

I need your help.

It wasn’t a message you were expecting. Normally, in your line of work, pleas for help came in the form of a frantic phone call or a scream in the dark. They never came in the form of a random text message.

And they never came from Dean Winchester.

You were having a relatively normal night, working a case and staking out a couple of vamps, when your phone buzzed with several messages from Dean. First, he asked if you were busy. Then, he asked if you were nearby. Moments later, he sent you an address to a motel. Then, came the message that caused you to leave the stakeout completely and go frantically speeding down the road.

Your tires screeched as you rounded a corner. The neon light of the motel soon appeared ahead, its reflection dancing across the many puddles on the asphalt. You pulled into the first parking spot you saw and stepped out of your car. The rain immediately soaked you to the bone, wetting your hair and your clothes, sending a chill through you, but you couldn't find yourself caring as your eyes scanned for Dean's room number.

The motel was rather seedy-looking – more so than normal. The wooden palings were splitting, and the paint was chipping off the trimmings and walls. There wasn't any other car in sight. You wondered just how bad things were if Dean had found himself in a place like this.

Once you found his room, you practically ran over to the door and threw it open, not bothering to knock. Your eyes immediately landed on Dean, who sat on the edge of one of the beds, his back to you. A wave of relief washed over you – he was alive – but the sight of his tense shoulders and the untouched beer bottle in his hand kept your anxiety simmering.

You closed the door behind you and took off your saturated jacket, leaving it next to Dean's leather one.

"Hey," you said with a sigh, "You okay?"

Dean responded with a curt nod but said nothing more. You stepped closer to him and placed your hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and you felt a pang in your chest. When you finally got close enough, you quickly scanned his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual, and his normally sharp gaze was clouded with exhaustion. HIs hair was wet and spiky, and his lip trembled from the cold.

Your eyes continued to trail down to his side, where his shirt clung to his skin, dark and wet with blood. Three jagged and deep gashes spread across Dean's side. His shirt was torn.

Your eyes widened as panic once again surged through you. You frantically looked around for anything you could use to stop the bleeding. You grabbed the first towel you could get your hands on and pressed it to his side, grimacing when Dean winced in pain.

"Jesus, Dean. What the hell happened?"

"Werewolf," he gritted out.

"I think you're gonna need stitches."

There was no first aid kit in sight, so your mind began running through alternatives. You could go to the front desk and ask if there were any supplies, but asking for anything more than a simple band-aid would cause suspicion, and the last thing you needed was someone knocking on the door asking too many questions.

You could use dental floss. You had known plenty of hunters that used it in the past and not had a problem, but you weren't sure there were any needles…

"There's a sewing kit in the bathroom."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. "You read my mind."

“One of my many talents.”

----

Needle, thread, dental floss, tissues, water. You looked over the supplies in front of you, mind racing at a million miles an hour. Despite being a hunter yourself, you weren’t exactly a natural when it came to stitching wounds and performing first aid. In fact, the sight of too much blood caused your head to throb and your legs to go numb.

Dean had already taken off his shirt, leaving you to see the full extent of his injuries. The gashes started at the top of his ribs and curled around to his left shoulder blade. Blood continued to trail down his back, causing your mouth to go dry. Pins and needles tingled your toes, and the room began to spin…

You shook off your thoughts and shifted your weight between your two feet, hoping to get some blood flow back there. You put your thoughts and discomfort behind you and prepared to begin.

“This isn’t gonna feel great,” you said, trying to control the shake in your voice.

“Not my first time,” he replied.

You grabbed the needle and thread, and – with shaky hands – tried your best to thread the cotton through the eye. You sat behind him, deciding to start around his shoulder. With a damp cloth, you tried your best to clean around the area, whispering apologies whenever Dean flinched.

“What happened?” you asked quietly, using your gentlest touch to guide the needle through.

“I told you,” he said through gritted teeth, “werewolf.”

“Yeah, I know, but…” you trailed off. “Where’s your dad?”

Dean clenched his jaw, and you immediately knew you had touched on a rough subject. Throughout the time that you had known Dean, you had learnt his relationship with his father was far from healthy. John Winchester was not your favourite person in the world. In fact, you and Dean had gotten into plenty of arguments about him in the past.

“He’s not here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, continuing your stitching. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Do we have to do this–?”

“--Yes.”

Dean sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. The anger and tension radiating off him was palpable, his shoulders were tense and his breathing was heavy. You finished stitching the first gash, and tied the thread off with a neat little knot. Instead of immediately moving on to the next one, you moved around and knelt in front of Dean so you were eye level. You placed a hand on his right knee and traced gentle circles into his skin with your thumb. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a look that was simultaneously stern and empathetic.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

“We’d been stakin’ out the thing for weeks,” Dean began. “We finally pinpointed it to this boathouse. Dad was sure that it was in there, so he sent me in first to sweep the area.”

“And…?”

“Turns out it was a lot smarter than we thought,” Dean said, a dejected smile on his lips. “It was waitin’ there for us. Dad knew, but I didn’t.”

“Then why did he send you in there?”

Dean shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. But the thing had me on the ground before I even realized what was goin’ on. Put it’s claws in me and ran.”

You shuddered.

“Dad didn’t stay,” Dean continued. “The second he realised it jumped ship, he went too. Left me with my phone and wallet… I walked here.”

“What?”

If Dean’s anger was palpable, you were damn-near irate. You pressed your lips together, trying to control yourself from spewing all sorts of profanities. If you had it your way, you would have marched your way up to John Winchester and given him what for. You would have knocked his lights out if Dean had let you.

You stood and pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes.

"He – you? God!"

"Alright hot-head, calm down."

"No, I will not calm down!" You spun on your heel, turning to face him again. "Your own father left you for dead!"

"He's done worse."

You laughed bitterly. "That doesn't surprise me."

"Alright," Dean sighed, raising a hand to stop your tirade. "I'm okay! I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, you're the pinnacle of okay."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping."

You shook your head. Angry tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them fall.

"I just wish you would understand that you deserve better," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You could leave his ass behind any time you like -"

"Oh yeah? And then what?"

You paused, and looked down to your feet.

"You could come with me?"

For half a second, Dean smiled. “You and I would kill each other in half an hour.”

He was right – but you’d never let him admit it.

“Why’d you text me then?” You asked. “If we’re just gonna kill one another–”

Dean shot you a pointed look.

“– I’m serious.” You said.

Dean stood up with a groan and walked over to you. You stood with your arms crossed, a slight frown creasing your brow. Nothing could be heard but the rain that battered against the windows and the thundering of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Dean tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear, “You’re the first one I thought of… The only one I wanted here.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks and you shook your head fondly. “You’re fantastic at changing the subject.”

Dean winked, but his smooth-talking was soon replaced by a painful scowl.

“Let’s finish this up later, shall we? I’d rather not bleed to death.”

You helped Dean back to the bed and prepared to finish stitching him up. You knew this was far from over – with Dean, it never was – but for now, you would focus on the rain that pattered against the roof and the relief that Dean was with you, safe.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean fluff #dean fic #supernatural fic #*my writing

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a-ikuoliver · 4 months ago

Text

god is a bit of a freak, why's he watching me getting railed on the couch, staying pure for a wedding, he's got fucked up priorities — aka an ancient, obsolete god of fertility hears your prayer

pairing: fertility god!katsuki bakugou x fem!reader w/c: 2.8k warning/s: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), references to sex rituals and safe sex lmao, i think that's everything, mostly lead up notes: sorry i wrote this fucked up from a cold lmao i hope u all enjoy either way! inspo/acknowledgements: god is a freak by peach prcty @kweenkatsuki-fics @aquadenks @peachsukii @rabbbitseason for ur interest teehee

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

the ancient tongue was dead, dying a slow death as all languages did, evolving again and again with every civilisation that rose and fell, until it faded into obscurity. with the death of their language, their communication with their believers, the gods faded, too, their followers dwindling more and more as their names were buried along with the civilisations they led. once adored, worshipped, feared, now, their names only existed on scrolls, yellowed and deteriorated beneath layers of mortal history, unspoken in aeons.

katsuki kicked the door shut behind him, the bag of produce in his hand swinging back and forth with the movement. there was once a time where he was lavished with offerings of food he now had to purchase; countless altars he tended to piled with vegetables, wines, fire, soil, blood, accompanied with prayers to answer. he'd all but assimilated into living as a mortal; cooking (he was grateful, at least, for electric stoves, cooking lerthargically over a fire not quite how he wanted to spend eternity), showering, learning, exploring and working alongside the humans that once lived in his shadow.

he was one of the first to deflect from utopia, to abandon his temple, to give up on the belief that the gods, their language could return to how it was, and with it their followers. katsuki had simply grown bored of waiting alone in the stone temple, of wandering the perimeter hoping to find a lost mortal he could grant a miracle to, to find a mortal to bring meaning to godhood again. after all, what was a god without his believers?

he hadn't given up his blessings or miracles, albeit on a smaller scale than he once had, he still granted wishes as he had in utopia's heyday, the offerings he received now smiles across counters as people passed along paperwork, hoping to be one of the lucky ones, praying over pregnancy tests in bathrooms instead of in his altar. he gave up godhood, but he refused to give up his miracles, even if the mortals didn't know he was responsible.

the pot was finally at a rolling boil, his knife poised above the produce when he felt it, the sensation freezing his blood in his veins, the pull of a prayer in his veins, an echoing whisper of his name lighting his nerves alight. the god freezes, blond hair slipping into his eyes as his ears burnt, twitching at every noise, waiting to hear the sweet sound of the prayer once more.

"bakugou."

his face falls from shock to a scowl almost immediately, his pupils dilating, his skin itchy from adrenaline, his stomach twisting. it couldn't really be his name. this couldn't be a prayer. not after all this time.

the obsolete incantation runs off your tongue seamlessly; almost melodic, light as you cite the prayer carved into the stone at the base of his statue, your dialect nothing like what the prayer used to sound like, but the more you read, the harder he finds it to hate. your voice clouds his head, every word past your lips making the fog denser behind his eyes. there was a dull pain alongside it, an ache that pulsed with your every breath, the pain of a prayer.

the call of the prayer felt… foreign after so long (a millennium he thinks? maybe more, maybe less, years, decades, centuries and millenniums all blurred into one for immortals), katsuki was accustomed to the silence every god feared, the silence of being abandoned by your believers, of dwindling power and control. even with how it was feared, this almost felt worse; a single prayer cornering him in the kitchen after an aeon alone, a single spotlight in the darkness worse than the endless pitch black.

"told you it was bull." barefoot, he paces back and forth in the apartment, shifting uncomfortably as you traced a fingertip over the carved inscription, the touch feeling as if it was on the very nerves of his scalp, down the curve of his spine, catching on every bump of his vertebra. crimson eyes droop, a thick hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose, an attempt to soothe the pain of your voice bouncing around his head, the sensation of your touch on his effigy.

"hey, stop that," your giggle almost has his feet sliding against the tile, nearly tumbling backward as he stops in his tracks; his muscles straining to follow the magnetism of your voice, the melody of your intoxicating laugh while he rationalises your existence at all.

"is that why you brought me here, huh? you think being in some ancient sex temple means you'll get some?"

perks of being a god: immortality, immeasurable strength and influence, impenetrable skin (with maybe a couple flaws). downsides of godhood? the power of their followers over them.

it was… overwhelming, the itch beneath a gods skin when a devout believer called their name, the weight of a prayer, the unshakable desire to follow the call. thankfully, the perks also included the facilities to do so; something akin to teleportation, the voice like a blinding beacon in the night, guiding the god.

once upon a time, civilisations ago, it was a lot, too much, the night always lit like it was daylight with the light his followers cast out. his temple existed for this very reason, devout believers building the god a home, a sanctuary for the light of his followers, complete with the marble sculpture of the built god. then, it was at the centre of the village he ruled over, now, you and your lover had hiked up a mountain, and back down into the valley to find it, the stone weathered and covered in vegetation, it was a miracle you'd been able to work your way inside.

dragging his finger over cold stone, every ridge and bump as it once was, katsuki reminisced about a time before the silence, before the darkness, a time when people lined outside his temple with dreams of a child. years ago, women came alone to his temple, clad in robes they'd weaved specially for the fertility ritual (sometimes gifted at their weddings), kneeling in the altar to offer anything they had in exchange for their heir; piles of gold from queens who begged for a prince, beloved and wise to rule their kingdoms peacefully, warriors armed with iron to wish for a knight, strategic and strong enough to return home from battle again and again, farmers gripping their herbs with soil-stained hands, praying for a child born with kindness and thumbs so green the village would survive the winters once more, a marble statue of the god, towering at over 9 feet tall from a sculptor wishing for a child with as much passion for the arts as their parents.

visitors now were only accidental, stumbling upon the temple in the darkness of the valley, seeking shelter, safety, protection. never a prayer tumbling from their lips for an heir (he answered their prayers nonetheless, never allowing harm to befall anyone on his blessed grounds).

peeking from behind a pillar overtaken by the vegetation, he finally spotted you.

you sucked the breath from his lungs, walking further into the temple, a cute, mischievous grin tugging on the corners of your soft lips, chasing your lover with your eyes as he spoke, "you don't think it's romantic? fucking in an ancient sex gods temple?"

"he was the god of fertility, not sex." you step onto the age worn sigil by the base of the imposing statue, brushing layers of grey dust away.

you look so similar to the countless women before who laid on his mark, the way you studied the carved sigil carefully, curiosity and stars sparkling in your eyes, a heat burning beneath your skin, adrenaline spiking in your veins. eras ago, women were bare on the sigil, stone icy against their skin as they drew runes, marking their skin with blood, dirt or ink, in the language native to the gods.

"what's the difference?" their voice was low, lips brushing beneath your jaw, biting at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, nimble fingers sliding beneath your shirt to tug it higher, higher, on your torso, tugging the material over your head with a flick of his wrist.

the god was no stranger to topless women, probably seeing hundreds and thousands of them in his prime, but the way the man in front of you toyed with the fat on your chest nearly making his eyes meet the inside of his skull. your allure was impossible to resist when your boyfriend rolls your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, tugging on the sensitive skin to pull a delicious whine from your throat.

the silence had made him soft.

"i've been waiting all day for this," katsuki's blood rushes in his ears when you both fall to the floor, limbs already beginning to tangle together, bodies becoming one at the mouth, at the hips, at the chest. your sweet sounds echo in the temple, increasingly breathless the longer you kissed and nipped and sucked and bit at your boyfriend.

the ancient tongue was dead, katsuki knew that, knew you had no way to know what you'd read, like some naive final girl in a cliche horror film, that the very god you were laid at the base of was real, that he could see and hear you, that his cock throbbed watching you. you had no way of knowing what you'd started. carmine eyes study the beat of your heart in your chest, the way your tits look when your breathing quickens, how irresistible you look when deft fingers trace the seam of your panties.

katsuki prays himself for the first time in his long life that he's the only god to see you right now, to watch your face change the lower your boyfriend travels, dragging his tongue over your skin as he goes (katsuki's thankful for every time the mortal man bites at your skin, for the yelp it elicits anytime his canines sink into your flesh). his fingertips twitch at his sides, itching to finalise the ritual you'd started with the single murmur of his name, the first syllable of a language foreign on your tongue but you'd recited it so naturally.

you exclaim your lovers name with another sweet giggle, his hands now gripping your ass, tugging your obstructive underwear down your pillowy thighs, tossing it as far as he can the moment the garment is free from your ankles.

the god's ears scald at the way you sound when the brunet's tongue flicks against your skin, sucking at your pussy just to draw increasingly needier sounds from your pretty mouth. he's not even watching you and he already knows your hips are jumping from the stone floor, grinding onto your lovers mouth and nose to work yourself closer to an orgasm. your moans echo in the stone temple, bouncing in every corner before travelling back to his ears, tempting his attention to you.

he stays steady, sharp carmine eyes narrowing on the altar.

more specifically, the lump of material atop the bench.

your underwear is draped across like an offering of its own to him, far more lewd than gold, iron and herbs, but it made his core ache when the moonlight caught in the centre of the fabric, a small damp spot glistening in the light.

fuck, it hurts, every nerve aching, screaming to finally put an end his celibacy, unbroken for far too long. he hadn't felt a need for a mortal like this since the beginning of his existence, the pure want filling his head with fog. this is a duty, this power he has, it is what he was made for, there was never this heavy, dense fog filling his head before, no follower making his blood burn like you were. and you didn't even know what you'd done.

bakugou's gaze is finally drawn back to you, your spine arching away from the stone, fingers tangling at the base of your boyfriends skull, tugging the hair harshly as you chanted his name, your hips stuttering, grinding messily back and forth on his face, until you stopped. you were still wound tight, your thighs clamped tight around his ears while you recovered, a dopey, lovesick smile planted firm on your cheeks.

your squeal makes his dick twitch, one last flick of his tongue over your overstimulated clit, blond eyebrows furrowing so hard at the centre it makes his head pound, you were making his head hurt. a desperation to finish the ritual filled his lungs, every breath a reminder of his name on your lips, of your panties across the altar, of your naked body atop his mark.

he needed this, needed to bury his cock in a pretty cunt, to fill you until you were a babbling mess, needed you.

sitting back on his knees, your lover wiped your creamy cum from his chin with the back of his hand, spreading it from his face to his fingers, hardly doing anything to clean the mess you'd made of his mouth.

your boyfriend finally moves out of the way, giving katsuki the front row seat he deserves, your thighs shining with slick the masterpiece he'd come to see. unblinking, he thinks he's squeezing his cock through his pants, he's not sure, too hypnotised by the way your hips still twitched, chasing your boyfriends warmth. onyx and ruby eyes alike study your face, glued to the way your eyes roll into your skull when his fingers, still wet with your cum, trace your clit once more, teasing the entrance of your pussy before circling your sensitive nerves once more.

katsuki knows he's stroking his cock now, frantically tugging at the zipper still preventing him from relief, his fist moving at the same pace you grind your hips down to your lovers hand, sucking his fingers into you, squeezing your cunt around them until your thighs shook. his hips rock into his hands when your tongue lolls from your mouth, your moans getting faster and faster once more.

he has to bite his lip to stifle a groan of his own, his fist pumping faster and faster again, squeezing the base of his cock when you press a kiss as soft as silk to his lips, looping your hips around his, tugging him closer when you came again.

"fuck, baby, next time you cum, it's with my cock inside you." dark hair shields your face from katsuki's vision momentarily, your boyfriend leaning over you, searching his discarded coat for something, tugging it closer and pulling each pocket inside out.

your thighs slip from his hips as he moves, wincing as your thighs made contact with the icy stone instead of his warm skin.

"shit, i think i left the condoms in the backpack," sliding the empty jacket over your chest, you tuck it beneath your arms, clutching it close to you with one hand, the other waving your boyfriend off as he ventured back toward the entrance of the temple, your gaze lingering on his ass until he was out of sight.

another perk of godhood: the blessed ground was subject to the chosen gods whims. some gods had their temples in the centre of labyrinthian mazes, others had their temples impossible to find, buried beneath the earth or deep in the ocean, hidden between mountains, camouflaged in vegetation, some invisible until the winter solstice, or until the new moon. katsuki never quite cared for that, leaving his temple as his followers built it for him, not implementing challenges for believers to prove their dedication like others had, only protecting his hallowed ground. until now.

stone scrapes against stone harshly, the coarse sound painfully invading your ears as the temple entrance seals. you drop the jacket into your lap, rushing to shield your ears from the sound with your palms pressed hard to your ears, searching around the room for your boyfriend, for his protection, katsuki supposes, like a mortal man could save you from the god you summoned, from what you started.

stepping out from the dark corner, his figure casts a sharp, long shadow as he stands to his full height in front of the statue. like this, you look identical to the women he used to bestow his miracles on; splayed on his sigil, staring up at him with dewy eyes (your blown pupils imperceptibly widening when your gaze rakes over his large form, taking everything in; blond mess of hair, darting crimson eyes, ruffled shirt as he rushed to hold it in his mouth watching you get your cunt eaten, his still-unzipped pants and finally the impressive bulge of his cock), your lips parting when he finally relaxes his shoulders, now standing easily at the shoulder of his statue.

"you-re—" your eyes dart between the imposing statue and his steely face, your voice airy, wobbling slightly as you continued, "you're real?"

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #katsuki bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugo katsuki smut #「mercury writes」#「kat <3」

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zebuie · 4 months ago

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✰𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒✰

༢ུ·⠀READ THIS. # DAILY CLICK ☾ MASTERLIST

⋆𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒⋆; ༊࿔ nerdyloser!ellie x cheerleader!reader.

ıllı⋆𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒⋆; ellie had a reputation as the school's perpetual loser. However, you saw her differently, choosing not to believe the gossip and stereotypes surrounding her.

⌖ ⋆𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒⋆; WC/ 7.1k , smutttt!!! , the glasses stay ONNNN!! , friends to lovers trope? , swearing , ellie touches herself to thought of reader , making out / kissing , fingering (e & r receiving) , strap on usage (r receiving) , strap on sucking (e receiving) , eating out (e & receiving) , nipple sucking (e & r receiving) , Ellie calls the strap her cock like once? (I think.) , lmk if there’s more ! 🧡

💌 ⋆𝐀/𝐍⋆; Heyeyyey guysss ive actually done nothing but rot in my bed this summer❤️ also promise I’ll reply to all of ur sent requests once I feel like it bc I’m sick😓anyways hope u enjoy this bery shitty fic mwahhh <3

Ellie was often regarded as the school's perpetual loser, her status whispered about in hushed hallway conversations and painted with gossip on the bathroom walls.

You, however, saw her through a different lens, one that didn't confine her to the stereotypes and ridicule that surrounded her.

To you, she wasn't just a loser. She was cute, intriguing, and someone who held a silent charm that was lost on the rest of the school.

From the first time you laid eyes on her, you couldn't help but notice the way she moved through the crowded halls with a reserved confidence.

Her short, tousled hair framed a face that held a hint of mystery, her sharp jawline and piercing eyes exuding a quiet strength.

Between classes, you would often find her sitting alone in a secluded corner, engrossed in a book or sketching in a worn notebook.

Her solitary moments, instead of appearing lonely, hinted at a depth and independence that captivated you.

There was something about the way she carried herself, a quiet resilience that made her stand out amidst the cacophony of teen insecurities and conformity.

As you walked through the bustling corridors, your eyes landed on Ellie standing alone by her locker, engrossed in the world of her own mind.

Taking a deep breath, you approached her, the familiar uniform of a cheerleader a stark contrast to her rebellious aura.

The hallway filled with its usual chatter, but in that moment, it faded into the background as you gathered your courage.

"Hey Ellie," you called out, hoping to grab her attention, your heart beating a little faster than usual.

Ellie looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her features as she registered your presence. She closed her locker and turned to face you, her gaze studying you with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

The hallway seemed to shrink around the two of you, the world outside becoming a blur as your conversation began to unfold.

"What do you want?" her words carried a hint of defensiveness, a shield she had likely erected after years of ridicule. Yet, her eyes held a flicker of interest, intrigued by the unusual turn of events – a popular cheerleader like you speaking to her, the school's "loser".

"I just wanted to say hi," you responded, a nervous smile playing on your lips. Your cheerleader uniform with a oversized buttoned up varsity jacket, a symbol of the very social group that often looked down upon Ellie, seemed to create a wall of judgment in the air between you both.

You pushed past it, your curiosity about her overshadowing any preconceived notions about her social status.

"Hi." Ellie said softly, clearly not used to people approaching her, especially not popular cheerleaders like you.

She shifted her weight slightly, resting her hand on the locker behind her. There was a brief moment of silence as she studied you, trying to figure out what you wanted.

Her piercing eyes, usually hidden behind a mask of apathy, were intense and searching. You could tell she was hesitant, bracing herself for whatever snide comment or put-down was about to come her way.

But you surprised her, and yourself, by simply smiling and saying you wanted to say hi. Ellie's reserved demeanor softened slightly, a tiny glimmer of surprise and pleasure flashing in her eyes.

She looked...flattered. "That's, um, that's really nice of you," she mumbled, her sharp jawline clenched slightly.

It was clear she wasn't used to such kindness from her peers. You stood there for a moment, the noise of the hallway fading into the background.

Ellie was even more captivating up close - those mysterious eyes, that delicate yet strong face. You found yourself drawn to her quiet strength and hidden depths.

Finally breaking the silence, you asked her how she was doing, really doing. Ellie sighed, looking down at her feet. "I don't know. Same old, same old, I guess. Trying to fly under the radar." Her shrug was small, her shoulders barely rising. "People can be pretty cruel sometimes."

Ellie shrugged again, her eyes darting away uncomfortably. "I mean, I'm used to it by now. People have been talking shit about me since middle school. It never really bothers me anymore." Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the tightness around her eyes betrayed the lie.

Being the subject of constant ridicule and mockery can't be easy, even if you build up a protective shell. You sensed a deep sadness behind Ellie's apathetic facade.

Reaching out tentatively, you placed your hand on her arm. The gesture startled her, her eyes snapping back to yours in surprise. It was a small, friendly touch, but it felt like a big statement - a rejection of the societal norms that put Ellie down and a personal challenge to get to know the real her. "I'm sorry people are so rude, Ellie. You don't deserve that." Your tone was gentle, sympathetic.

"I know I'm not exactly known for being kind to those on the outskirts. But I want you to know I think you're interesting. And cool. And I'd like to get to know you better, if you're up for it."

Ellie looked at you with a mix of surprise and... was that a glimmer of hope? She seemed to be searching your face, trying to gauge your sincerity.

After a moment, she shrugged again, but there was a hint of vulnerability behind it. "I don't know... I'm not really sure how to... hang out, I guess." Her cheeks flushed slightly, her gaze drifting down to her scuffed shoes.

The admission felt awkward for her, like she was revealing a weakness. But it was also kind of adorable, seeing this tough exterior cracking just a bit. You had the sudden urge to reach out and hug her, to show her that not everyone judged her— but you didn't. "We can start simple," you suggested, your voice warm and encouraging. "We could study together sometime. Or grab coffee after school."

Anything to help Ellie see that there are good people out there, if she just opens herself up to the possibility.

Ellie considered your offer, her brow furrowed in concentration. You could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she weighed the risks and rewards. Finally, she nodded, just a tiny jerk of her head but enough to see as a yes. "Okay... yeah. That could be cool, I guess." She smiled slightly, a real, genuine smile that transformed her entire face.

You exchanged numbers, making plans to meet up the following week. As you parted ways, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation.

Fast forward a few days, and Ellie and you have become inseparable. You sit together at lunch, partner for projects, and study together almost every night.

She's opened up to you in ways she never has with anyone else, sharing her dreams of becoming a writer and her passion for art. In turn, you've shared your own hopes and fears with her.

She listens intently, her piercing eyes studying your face, her sharp jawline clenched in empathy.

You've never felt so understood. The world seems to have slowed down since you've gotten closer, like you're moving to a different beat than everyone else.

People still talk about Ellie behind her back, but you tune it out. You know the truth - that beneath that tough exterior is a kind, clever, beautiful soul.

One that you're falling for more and more each day. But you're scared to ruin your friendship by confessing your feelings.

So you keep it inside, buried beneath your skin like a constant ache. Hoping against hope that someday, somehow, Ellie will realize that you're the one who sees her, who truly gets her. And that maybe, just maybe, she might feel the same way.

You've been trying to get Ellie to come to one of your cheerleading practices for weeks, but she's been stubbornly refusing. She's always got some excuse - she's busy, she doesn't feel like it, she'd rather stay home and draw.

But you're determined. Finally, you corner her after school one day. "Ellie, come on! It'll be fun, I promise. And I want you to meet the girls, they're really great once you get to know them." You plead, your voice high-pitched with desperation.

Ellie sighs, her sharp jawline clenched in exasperation. But after a moment, she relents. "Fine, alright. But just for a little while, okay?" She agrees, clearly unenthused.

You grin triumphantly and immediately start walking towards the gym. Ellie hurries to catch up, her eyes fixed on the ground. When you arrive at the practice, you head straight to the bleachers to change.

Ellie follows at a distance, until she sees you pull off your uniform top and shake out your hair, dressed now in just a sports bra and mini skirt. Her eyes go wide, her cheeks flushing bright red as she takes in the sight of you in your cheer gear. "Fuck..." she mutters under her breath, her gaze darting away, suddenly very interested in her sneakers. The other girls greet you warmly, and you introduce Ellie to the team.

You and the girls start practicing a routine, dancing and cheering in unison. Ellie watches from the bleachers, her eyes glued to you, unable to look away.

Your short skirt flutters as you move, giving glimpses of your thighs and ass. The sweat glistens on your skin, making your sports bra cling to your chest.

Every flex of your muscles, every spin and leap, sends Ellie's heart racing. She's never seen you like this before - all energy and enthusiasm, your beauty and femininity on full display. It's intoxicating.

She has to tear her eyes away, squeezing them shut as she tries to regain control of herself. Because seeing you like this, it's making her feel things.

Things she shouldn't, not to her friend. Not to anyone, really. Her cheeks are burning, and she can't seem to catch her breath.

The fact that her pussy is throbbing with need and her boxers are drenched doesn't help matters. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Ellie prays the practice will be over soon, before she does something stupid.

The practice goes by in a blur for Ellie, her mind foggy with desire. She keeps her gaze fixed on the floor, scared to look up and risk seeing more of your tempting body.

But her imagination fills in the blanks, painting vivid pictures of your lithe form dancing just for her. By the time you wrap up, Ellie is a hot mess - flushed, breathless, and seriously bothered.

She mumbles something about needing to go and dashes out of the gym, not caring if she just bails on you. She needs to get home, alone, and deal with the ache between her legs. It's going to be a long night.

Ellie rushes home, her heart pounding and her mind reeling. She storms up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. Falling face-first on her bed, she lets out a frustrated groan, her boxers soaked through.

She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of you dancing in that tiny skirt, but it's no use. Behind her closed lids, you're still there, bouncing around in your cheer gear, just for her.

A low moan escapes her lips as she palms her pussy, stroking her cunt slowly. Her mind fills with filthy thoughts of you - of pinning you down and tasting your pussy, of wrapping her long fingers around your lithe throat and making you cum on command.

She imagines herself fucking you senseless, pounding your tight cunt into submission. The fantasies are wild, rough, and exactly what she needs to relieve the ache between her legs.

Ellie loses herself in the pleasure, her pussy wet and throbbing as she jerks herself off to thoughts of you. Her pussy clenches and drips, her thighs trembling as the orgasm builds.

"Fuck," she hisses through gritted teeth, her hips bucking wildly into her touch. The moment she comes, she collapses back on the bed, gasping for air.

Her mind is hazy, her chest heaving. But even as the bliss fades, a nagging sense of shame creeps in. What is wrong with her? You're her best friend! She can't possibly actually want to fuck you, can she?

The thought sends a pang of guilt through her, but it's too late - the damage is done. She can't unsee you dancing in that skirt, can't unfeel the way her body responds to your presence. And as she lays there, her heart racing and her skin slick with sweat, Ellie knows one thing for sure - she's falling for you, hard. And it's only a matter of time before you find out.

Over the next two days, Ellie tries to push her feelings down, to pretend like nothing changed. But it did. Every time you're near, she feels that old ache returning, her body reacting like it did when she saw you in that skirt.

She's miserable, torn between her growing feelings for you and the guilt of keeping them a secret. One evening, you stop by her house after school. You knock on her door, and she opens it, looking frazzled and stressed. "Can you come back later?" She asks, her voice strained.

Something is definitely going on with her. You nod, confused, and leave. But as you walk away, you see Ellie slump against the doorframe, looking like she's about to collapse. You turn back, concerned, and ask if she's okay. For a moment, she just stares at you. "yeah yeah, all good." She replies, and you just walk away.

You notice a change in Ellie's behavior - she's suddenly really busy all the time. When you invite her to hang out, she always has an excuse. "Sorry, I have a project due soon and I really need to focus," she says, avoiding eye contact. Or "I have family stuff I need to take care of, maybe we can hang out another time?" She's gone from eager best friend to distant acquaintance almost overnight.

It's like she's avoiding you on purpose. You're confused, but you try to give her space, hoping she'll come around. But you can't shake the feeling that you did something wrong.

You've had enough. A few days without Ellie in your life is more than enough time to realize just how much you need her. You need your best friend back.

So you show up at her doorstep, determined to get some answers. When she opens the door, you're ready. "What's going on, Ellie?" You demand, your voice shaking slightly. She looks taken aback, like she wasn't expecting this confrontation. "Wh-what are you talking about?" She stammers, her sharp jawline clenched anxiously.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "Don't lie, Ellie. I know you've been avoiding me for weeks. Something's wrong, and I want to know what it is." There's a long, tense moment of silence.

Then, finally, Ellie sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine," she says, stepping aside to let you in. "Come in."

You sit down with Ellie, genuinely concerned. "You can tell me anything, you know that right?" You say softly. Ellie looks down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers. "It's just... school has been really hard lately. And homework. I just haven't had the time or

energy to focus on anything else."

She shrugs, her eyes still fixed on her lap. You process her words, trying to understand. But you can't help but notice the way she's avoiding eye contact, the way her voice lacks its usual conviction.

You get the sense that there's more to the story, that Ellie is hiding something from you. But you're not sure what. Frustrated but willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Over the next few weeks, you keep a close eye on Ellie, making sure she doesn't slip back into her old avoidance habits. Slowly but surely, she starts to come back around, agreeing to hang out occasionally.

It's not the same as before - there's a new tension between you two, a nervous energy. You can't quite put your finger on it, but something has definitely changed.

One night, you're studying together at your place. Ellie is across from you, focused intently on her book. You can't help but steal glances at her, drinking in the sight of her intelligent face, her delicate features. Suddenly, she looks up and catches you staring. Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away. Awkward.

Ellie shifts uncomfortably, Her eyes dart around the room, anywhere but at you. "Wh-what are you looking at?" She asks, her voice tight. You're taken aback - why is she getting defensive? You weren't looking at her like she was stupid or anything. "Nothing! I wasn't looking at anything." You stammer, feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

The silence that follows is thick and heavy. Finally, Ellie speaks up again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can we just... focus on our homework?"

You nod, trying to brush off the weirdness. But as you both continue studying, the atmosphere between you two is strained. Every time you glance over at Ellie, she's looking away, her face flushed.

You start to wonder if she's really okay. As the night winds down, you realize you haven't heard a peep out of her in a while.

You look over to find her sound asleep at your desk, her head resting on her folded arms. You can't help but smile - the girl may be tough as nails, but she's still got a soft side. Gently, you reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

You freeze, hand hovering inches from Ellie's cheek. In that moment, everything clicks into place. Your feelings for her, the way your body reacts whenever she's near, the guilt you've been carrying around - it all makes sense.

You're in love with your best friend, and she's been trying to tell you without saying the words. The realization is overwhelming, and you're not sure what to do with it. You look down at Ellie, taking in her peaceful slumbering face.

For a long moment, you just stare. Then, with a deep breath, you lean in and press your lips to her forehead in a gentle, chaste kiss.

The next day at school, you're on edge. What if Ellie was awake when you kissed her on her forehead. You can't help but worry as you wait for her to make a move.

But to your surprise, Ellie seems completely unfazed. She walks up to you in the hallway, grinning as usual. "Hey, what's up?" She asks, like nothing out of the ordinary happened. You blink, unsure how to respond.

Do you confront her about your feelings, or do you play it cool? Before you can decide, Ellie leans in and brushes her lips against your cheek in a quick, friendly kiss. "See you later," she murmurs, before turning and walking away. Your heart is racing, your mind reeling. Did she just... kiss you like that? And if so, what does it mean?

Over the next few weeks, you and Ellie settle into a new normal. Your friendship is still there, but it's different now - there's a romantic undercurrent running beneath the surface. Every now and then, one of you will lean in to kiss the other's cheek or forehead. It's sweet, but also confusing.

Are you guys just staying friends, or is something more brewing? One evening, you're hanging out again, this time watching a movie at the cinema. About halfway through, you get bored so you turn and ask her "I'm bored...can we do something?"

Ellie glances over at you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I know just the thing," she whispers with a sly smile.

Before you can respond, she reaches over and takes your hand, her fingers intertwining with yours. You feel a jolt of electricity at her touch, your heart beginning to race.

The cinema falls away as you gaze into her eyes, the rest of the world fading to black. "Come on," she says, tugging gently on your hand. You let her lead you out of the theater and down the dark, empty hallway. No one's around to notice the way your pulse quickens or how hard it is to breathe.

Ellie raises an eyebrow as you drag her into the bathroom, but she doesn't resist. "What's up?" She asks, looking around the small room in confusion.

You fidget with your shirt, suddenly self-conscious. "Can't go out there looking like a mess," you mutter. Without thinking, you turn to Ellie and grab a handful of her hair, pulling her in close.

Your lips meet in a searing kiss, all the pent-up tension between you exploding in that moment. Ellie melts into your embrace, her hands coming up to grip your shoulders.

The kiss breaks after what feels like an eternity, leaving you both breathless. For a moment, you just stare at each other, hearts racing. Then, with a shy smile, Ellie reaches up and fixes your crooked necklace. "You look fine," she whispers.

Ellie's glasses slide down her nose as she leans in for the kiss, the frames tilting rakishly. After you break the kiss, she pushes them back up, blinking rapidly. "We should probably get back," she says softly, glancing towards the bathroom door.

You nod, not wanting to face the crowded cinema again just yet. With Ellie's hand in yours, you leave the bathroom and make your way back to your seats.

As you sit down, Ellie adjusts her glasses once more, her fingers brushing the lenses. The light catches on the silver frames, making them sparkle. You can't help but stare at her, your heart full to bursting.

The rest of the movie is a blur. You can't focus on anything except for the girl beside you. Every now and then, your knees will bump, sending electric jolts through your body.

When the credits start rolling, you both sit there in stunned silence. Then, without a word, Ellie takes your hand and leads you out of the cinema.

The cool night air is a welcome relief, but it does nothing to calm your racing heart. You walk in silence for a few blocks, not knowing what to say. Finally, you look over at Ellie, who's walking with her eyes downcast. "Thank you," you say softly, not meeting her gaze. "For tonight." She nods and smiles, walking you home. When you get home she plants a soft kiss to your cheek and says goodbye.

The next day at school, you and Ellie are back to your old selves, or so it seems. You're sitting together at lunch, leaning in close as you talk. Every now and then, one of you will brush a strand of hair from the other's face.

It's subtle, but charged with a new meaning. In class, you catch Ellie glancing at you from under her lashes, her cheeks flushed. You feel like you're walking on eggshells, unsure of where you stand with her.

Then, in the middle of a lesson, disaster strikes. Your textbook slips from your grasp, landing with a thud at your feet. You bend down to pick it up, unaware of the brief but tantalizing view you're giving Ellie.

Her eyes go wide as you're bent over in your short skirt, the fabric riding up to give a peek of stocking and skin. You stand up quickly, face burning. Ellie looks away, trying to hide her smirk.

That night, you're scrolling through social media when an invitation for a party catches your eye. It's being held at a friend's house, and they're encouraging everyone to come.

You hesitate for a moment before texting Ellie. "Hey, wanna go to this party tonight? I know it's last minute, but it could be fun." You send the message, hoping she'll say yes. A few minutes later, her response pops up. "Sure why not" You grin, feeling a rush of excitement.

You're not sure what the night will bring, but you're ready for whatever happens. When you arrive at the party, it's already in full swing. Ellie takes your hand as you make your way through the crowd, the two of you laughing and joking. But every now and then, your eyes meet and hold, the connection between you sparking like a live wire.

The party is in full swing, with pulsing music and bodies moving to the beat. You grab Ellie's hand, pulling her onto the makeshift dance floor. "Dance with me," you demand, your voice urgent. Ellie can't help but laugh at your insistent tone. "Okay, okay," she relents, letting you pull her close.

As the song builds, you spin Ellie around until she's facing away from you. Without a word, you grab her hips and start grinding your ass against her crotch.

Ellie lets out a surprised yelp before melting into your touch, her own hips starting to move in time with yours.

The sensation is electric, your bodies moving together like they were made to. You're oblivious to everything around you, lost in the feeling of Ellie pressed against you.

As you continue to grind against each other, Ellie places her hands on your hips, guiding you in a slow, sensual circle.

The motion is hypnotic, drawing you both into a trance-like state. The music swirls around you, blending with the sound of your heavy breathing.

Every now and then, one of you will let out a soft moan, the sound swallowed up by the thumping bass. The crowd around you fades away until it's just the two of you, lost in your own little world.

Ellie pulls you back, her chest pressing against your spine. You can feel the rapid beat of her heart, matching your own. Without looking, you reach back and lace your fingers with hers, the gesture intimate and possessive.

You spin around suddenly, your lips crashing against Ellie's in a rough, needy kiss. Your tongues tangle as you devour each other, the sweet taste of saliva and lust mixing in your mouth.

Ellie kisses you back just as fiercely, her hands coming up to grip your shirt. You rip yourself away after what feels like an eternity, both of you breathing heavily.

Ellie's lips are swollen, glasses askew and slightly reddened from the force of your kisses. You stare at each other, chests heaving, hearts pounding. Without a word, you take Ellie's hand and drag her out of the party, into the cool night air.

The music and laughter fade behind you, replaced by the sound of your own racing pulses.

As you step outside, Ellie suddenly tightens her grip on your hand, her fingers digging into your skin. You look down to see her eyes flashing with an intense emotion.

Without a word, she starts pulling you along the sidewalk, your feet moving quickly to keep up with her long strides.

You don't resist, your curiosity piqued. Soon you're at Ellie's front door, her hand fumbling in her pocket for keys.

She unlocks the door and pulls you inside, slamming it shut behind you. In the dim lighting of the foyer, Ellie turns to face you, her expression fierce. "Mine," she hisses, before crashing her lips against yours in a dominant, claiming kiss.

Ellie kisses you with a possession and hunger that takes your breath away. Her tongue plunges into your mouth, exploring every inch. One of her hands fists in your hair, holding you in place as she devours you.

The other hand roams your body, slipping under your shirt to brand you with her touch. You feel like prey being consumed by a starved animal.

Ellie breaks the kiss, panting heavily. Without a word, she grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs to her bedroom. She slams the door shut behind you, locking it with a resounding click. In the dim light, you can see the intensity in her eyes as she advances on you. "I've been waiting for this," she whispers, her voice husky. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

The other hand roams your body, slipping under your shirt to brand you with her touch. You feel like prey being consumed by a starved animal.

Ellie breaks the kiss, panting heavily. Without a word, she grabs your hand and drags you up the stairs to her bedroom.

She slams the door shut behind you, locking it with a resounding click. In the dim light, you can see the intensity in her eyes as she advances on you. "I've been waiting for this," she whispers, her voice husky. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

As Ellie advances on you, her glasses slip down her nose, the frames tilting rakishly. In the dim light, you can see the glint of the silver hinges and temple pieces.

She reaches up to push them back into place, her fingers trembling slightly with urgency. "I've been wanting to do this for so long," she breathes, her pupils blown wide with desire. Her hands come up to grip your shoulders, pulling you close until her body is pressed hard against yours.

You can feel every curve and angle of her, the softness of her breasts, the hardness of her stomach. Ellie's lips brush against your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Gonna take my time with you," she whispers, her voice sending sparks of anticipation through your veins.

You're acutely aware of what you're wearing as Ellie presses her body against yours - the thin fabric of your shirt doing little to conceal your heated skin, the mini skirt riding up your thighs with every brush of her hips.

You can feel Ellie's eyes on you, her gaze igniting with desire at the sight of your barely covered curves.

She runs her hands down your sides, fingertips grazing the underside of your breasts, teasing the swell of your hips. "You look so hot right now," Ellie purrs, her hot breath tickling your ear. She nibbles on your lobe, her teeth sharp and excitingly painful.

You let out a soft gasp, your own hunger rising to match hers. Without a word, Ellie starts tugging your shirt over your head, revealing your bra-clad breasts to her hungry gaze. She latches onto one nipple, suckling hard as her fingers hook into your skirt and start to pull.

Ellie's mouth is a hot, slick wonder as she suckles your nipples, her tongue swirling around the hardened buds. You arch your back, pressing yourself more fully into her eager mouth. Every suck sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

Meanwhile, her fingers continue their exploration of your body, dipping beneath your skirt to find the slick heat between your thighs. Two fingers push inside, curling against your sensitive walls as she strokes and teases. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction.

Ellie hums against your skin, the vibration adding another layer of sensation as her fingers pump steadily. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, the dual stimuli threatening to overwhelm you with pleasure.

You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. With Ellie's mouth on your nipples and her fingers inside you, you're teetering on the brink of a powerful climax.

The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your entire body convulsing with the intensity of it. You cry out, the sound muffled by Ellie's mouth still attached to your breast.

She rides out your climax with you, sucking gently as you tremble and gasp. Finally, you go limp in her arms, boneless and thoroughly satisfied. Ellie pulls back, her lips glistening with your milk.

Without a word, she drops to her knees in front of you, her glasses sliding down her nose once more. She looks up at you through the frames, her eyes dark with desire. "I need to taste you," she whispers, her voice husky with need. Before you can respond, her tongue is on you, licking and probing. The sudden change has you quivering again, your nerves freshly frayed.

As Ellie's tongue works its magic, her glasses start to fog up from the steam of your wetness. The condensation clouds the lenses, blurring her vision.

But she doesn't stop, too focused on worshipping you with her mouth to care. "fuck baby, you taste so good," she moans, the words muffled and indistinct through the fogged glass.

She laps at you eagerly, her breath hot on your sensitive flesh. Occasionally, she'll lift her head to glare down at you through the milky white lenses, as if daring you to tell her to stop. But you won't. You'll let her eat you out until you're ready to explode again.

As the aftershocks of your second orgasm subside, Ellie sits back on her heels, her glasses still fogged up. She looks at you with a serious expression, even as her fingers start rummaging through her dresser drawer.

"do u trust me?," she says softly, pulling out a sleek strap-on. Her eyes meet yours, searching. "promise I'll make it feel good." She holds out the wand, offering it to you with a vulnerable smile.

You nod eagerly, your eyes squeezing shut as if in reverence. Strap on in Ellie's hand, her fingers wrapping around the slick shaft. She stands up, as she steps out of her pants. Underneath, she's wearing only a pair of boxers, the fabric stretched tightly across her mound now the strap-on hanging low on her hips. Her shirt remains on, the hem riding high on her stomach.

Ellie looks at you over her shoulder, her glasses still fogged from her earlier efforts. She gives you a sultry smile, her eyes dark with promise. Then she's turning around, the strap-on swaying between her legs as she walks back towards you. "ready?" she whispers, her voice husky with anticipation.

Without another word, she presses the slick head of the toy against your entrance, lining it up carefully. Then she's pushing forward, the broad tip parting your folds.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your eyes flying open. Ellie doesn't stop until the hilt is buried inside you, the toy nestled deep. She gives your hip a gentle stroke, as if checking you're ready. she asks you to get on your hands and knees then, she starts to thrust.

Ellie starts to thrust the toy in and out of you, the slick shaft gliding easily inside your slick heat. She sets a slow, steady rhythm, her hips undulating sensually.

As she picks up pace, she leans over you, her chest pressing against your back. You can feel her hard nipples poking into your skin, even through her shirt. "Fuck, you're so tight," she hisses in your ear. "Gonna make me cum just feeling you clench around this." Her fingers tighten on your hip, her breathing growing more erratic.

"Gonna fill this pussy up," she continues, her voice low and filthy. "Mine, you're so fucking mine ."

Ellie's words send a shiver down your spine, her dark promises only adding to the intense pleasure coursing through you. You can feel your body responding, your walls rippling around the toy buried inside.

Ellie must feel it too, because she lets out a triumphant moan. "That's it, baby. Cmon," She starts thrusting harder, the broad shaft stirring up your insides.

The wet sounds of your coupling fill the room, mingling with your heavy breathing and Ellie's filthy encouragements. "Fuck yeah, you like that," she growls, her fingers biting into your flesh. "Take my cock, fuckin-" her words spur you on, the forbidden heat of them only adding to the intensity.

Your orgasm starts to build, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. Ellie must sense it too, because she's panting heavily now, her hips slapping against your ass as she chases her own climax.

As you start to come down from your intense orgasm, you realize with a start that Ellie hasn't let you finish yet.

Your sensitive walls are still fluttering, your body tingling with oversensitization. Ellie keeps thrusting, the toy rubbing over your most tender spots.

But she seems to be holding back, her hips moving in a slow, shallow grind. Your eyes fly open, meeting Ellie's gaze over your shoulder. She gives you a wicked smile, her eyes dark with desire. "Not yet," she mouths, the word silent but clear.

She continues to tease you, the toy gliding over your aching flesh. You're trapped in a state of suspended pleasure, desperate to come again but unable to until Ellie says so.

A few minutes pass, the air thick with tension. Ellie's thrusts continue, the toy bumping against her own clit with every stroke.

The stimulation seems to be getting to her, her breaths coming in sharper gasps. You can feel her heart racing against your back, her excitement palpable. Suddenly, Ellie stills, holding the toy deep inside you.

For a long moment, she's absolutely still, her body rigid. Then, with a sharp cry, she pulls out of you and comes hard, her orgasm pulsing through her veins. "Fuck yes" she screams, her fingers finding your clit.

With a final, powerful stroke, she sends you hurtling into a second climax. This time, you come undone, your body shaking and convulsing as Ellie milks you with firm, deliberate strokes. You collapse back against her, utterly spent, as she continues to bring you down from your highs.

After a few seconds of gentle aftershocks, you're able to crawl up to Ellie, your eyes locking onto the toy still glistening with your combined juices. Without hesitation, you lean down and suck the slick shaft into your mouth, licking and cleaning Ellie's toy with eager, filthy enthusiasm. Ellie throws her head back, her eyes rolling as she enjoys the sight. "Oh fuck yes, just like that," she moans, her voice dripping with lust. "Holy fucking shit..."

You continue sucking the toy, licking every inch of Ellie's deliciously dirty shaft. But then, without warning, you suddenly pull away.

Confused, Ellie looks down to see you picking up the toy and pulling it away. Before she can react, you pull down her boxers to expose her pale, sensitive flesh.

You dive in, your tongue lapping eagerly at her intimate skin. Ellie's eyes go wide, her body arching in shock. "Wha- what are you...?" Her question trails off into a needy moan as you start to eat her out.

You continue eating Ellie out, your tongue dancing across her sensitive skin. She tosses her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her skull as she loses herself to the sensations. "Hhhnnn..." is all she can manage, her body going limp in abandonment.

You don't stop at just eating Ellie out - you bring your fingers into the act as well. One hand dives between her thighs, the fingers of your index and middle finger finding her sensitive entrance.

You tease the edges, your tongue probing deeply as your fingers start to pump inside her. Ellie is lost, her eyes rolling back as she surrenders to your dual ministrations. "Shiiit..." is all she can manage, her body shaking with the force of her climax.

While Ellie is still recovering from her intense orgasm, you crawl up the bed, your movements unhurried. When you reach her, you gently grab the hem of her shirt and sports bra.

With slow, reverent fingers, you start to pull them up her body. Ellie assists by lifting her arms, letting you strip away her last bits of clothing.

You reveal her bare skin to the cool air, her pale flesh dotted with the rosy aftermath of her climax. You take a moment to simply look at her, drinking in the sight of her naked body. Then, with a hungry glance, you start to kiss and lick your way across her chest.

You continue licking and kissing Ellie's bare skin, your tongue darting across her collarbone. She tastes so sweet, like honey and salt. You move lower, your lips finding her nipple. You suck the bud into your mouth, teasing it with your tongue.

Ellie arches into your touch, her fingers tangles in your hair. "Mmmph..." is her only response, the sound muffled by your mouth on her breast.

You nip and tease the tender flesh, earning breathy little gasps from Ellie. Her back arches, pushing her chest further into your hungry mouth.

You continue teasing Ellie's nipple, your teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Her back arches, pushing her breast further into your mouth. You suck harder, your lips pulling tightly around the bud.

Ellie gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair. You let go with a pop, looking up to see stars in Ellie's eyes. Her chest heaves with exertion, her pink nipples stiff with arousal.

You start to trail kisses down her stomach, your fingers dipping into her navel. "Please," Ellie whimpers, her voice hitching with need. "Don't stop."

You continue trailing kisses down Ellie's stomach, your fingers dancing across her skin. Eventually, you reach the hem of the bed, and you plant a soft kiss on her skin before pulling away.

You collapse on top of her, your naked bodies pressing together. You look up at her, your lips curving into a wicked smirk. Then you capture her mouth in a searing kiss, your tongues entwining.

The kiss goes on for a long moment, your bodies tangled together in a mess of limbs and lips and heated skin. Eventually, you break apart for air, your chests heaving. Ellie looks at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes, her cheeks flushed. "Holy shit," she breathes.

You continue making out with Ellie, your lips moving hungrily over hers. Your hands roam her body, touching and teasing wherever they land. The kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Ellie's fingers tangle in your hair, her tongue dueling with yours. The world narrows down to the two of you, lost in a haze of lust and desire. Time seems to slow, each second stretching out into an eternity.

There's only the two of you, tangled together in a messy tangle of arms and legs, your lips locked in a passionate embrace.

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