#I know it’s rushed but GOING STRONG

[tommys-wings]

GOING STRONG

[puppppppppy]

id fumble him so bad

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Two very important facts have just hit me like a sack of bricks dropped on my head:

Jones can land any date he wants. That's not his problem. His problem is he keeps standing them up for work.

Winter manages to somehow go on several dates with a gorgeous woman without realizing, at any point, that they are dates.

You see the vision.

[hinamie]

im still :/// at th fact that my speed and output have decreased however i Am more happy w the recent subtle shifts in my style and with the past few pieces overall so . i will focus on that lest i drive myself Mad

[jrueships]

lu we GET IT, he's your little princess, omg, girl, go away 😭 the maple mafia's got a fucking enforcer

[bacidipesca]

a weight you choose

Okay guys this one might be a little different. I’m a person who suffers from chronic illness, so I know what it’s like to really feel sick, and I wanted to write a hurt/comfort fic. Peach is sick with a stomach bug and this fic might be a little gross at points. There will be discussion of vomiting and snot, but no, uh, toilet things.

I hope everyone enjoys! It’s a bit of a long one. (Almost 4K!)

Waking up was usually not a difficult process for Princess Peach.

Though she was often up late with her duties and paperwork, Peach was an early riser by nature and usually itched to get out of bed and start her day with the rising of the sun (much to the chagrin of the folks in the castle). It was a rare occasion that Toadette had to come and fetch her, and rarer still that she didn’t immediately jump out of bed once she realized she’d overslept. It took several seconds of Toadette shaking her shoulder and trying to rouse her for the princess to even stir.

“Princess, are you alright?” Toadette said once again, and this time Peach heard it, though it sounded as though it came through a layer of cotton wool.

She scrunched her nose and groaned, turning for a moment to try it bury her face in her pillow. Even that slight movement, however, was enough to send a wave of terrible chills down her body from head to toe. She popped open her eyes to look up at Toadette, squinting a bit even in the low light, and she swallowed painfully. She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes grew alarmed before she could utter a word and with more energy than she thought she had, she flung the sheets back and stumbled out of bed.

Her chambers, of course, had an adjoining bathroom and she raced over to the trash bin there to heave, catching herself on her hands on the rim of the bin before she could fall to her knees. It took quite a few rounds of heaving before she felt like she could lift her head again, and when she did she realized that Toadette had come in behind her and tied her hair back from her face.

Peach would have thanked her, but another wave of chills rocked over her and she couldn’t speak as she heaved again.

It felt like that went on for hours, though Peach was sure it couldn’t have been that long. She would get a moment to catch her breath, would start to stand upright, and her stomach would cramp or she’d feel a bolt of inexplicable pain shoot up from her gut to her throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead and in her hairline from the constant effort of coughing and her legs began to ache from the nonstop tension as her stomach continued to try to empty itself, long after she’d lost everything she’d eaten. When the rolling and cramping of her abdomen didn’t stop even still, she couldn’t help but start to cry and fat teardrops slid down her flushed cheeks. After a while she lost the strength to stay on her feet and went down to her knees, leaning on her elbows as she clutched at the trash bin.

I don’t even have anything to come up anymore, she thought miserably, and she bit her lip hard to prevent a whine from escaping from her throat. Her efforts were in vain, though, because when she swallowed it felt as though she’d been eating broken glass. Her throat was shredded from all of her coughing, and she let out a pathetic sound as more tears rolled down her face, leaning on one of her arms. Pressed against her cheek, she could feel how hot and flushed her face still was.

She heard Toadette speaking behind her.

“…like this all morning. She hasn’t stopped, and it’s been about three hours now,” she said, and Peach reeled a little at the confirmation that she had, indeed, been vomiting for hours. Then she realized Toadette was talking to another person.

Oh, she must have gotten Nurse Toadessa, Peach thought, relief sweeping through her. Before she could even really finish the thought, though, it was already proven wrong.

“Dio mio, I understand,” came the other voice, and Peach couldn’t hear anything else after because the shock of it sent the most horrible wave of nausea through her yet.

Toadette had not fetched the castle nurse. She had gone and fetched Mario.

(What she did not know at this time was that Toadette had gone out with the full intention of getting the castle nurse, but Mario had found her first. And once Mario had heard the princess was ill, nothing could be done to prevent him from rushing to her side.)

Peach retched hard into the trash bin, this time seeing stars as her vision darkened around the edges. It hurt, it felt like she was going to turn herself inside out, she couldn’t stop to breathe—and honestly if this was her end she was beginning to welcome it, if it meant she stopped vomiting. Just as she was beginning to truly feel lightheaded, a bundle of cloth was pushed under her nose and her next retch was stopped in its tracks by the shock of the smell alone. She gasped and got another inhale that almost choked her.

When she tried to jerk back from the sharp, chemical smell, she felt a gentle hand on the back of her head and the cloth was kept close, though not close or hard enough to smother her—just to keep the scent invading her nose.

“I know, I’m sorry,” came Mario’s voice from somewhere above her head. Her eyes were still tearing and she could just barely see his hand in front of her face. He wasn’t wearing his gloves. “I know it smells bad, but it’s helping, sì?”

He was right, somehow. As long as she was taking in that burning smell, her stomach wasn’t trying to flip around. She could take a breath, and she did so greedily, coughing on mucus when she let it back out but not convulsing with the need to purge. A low sob of relief pushed out of her and she lifted her head for the first time in what felt like forever.

She felt disgusting. She knew there had to be something streaming from about every hole in her head—tears were still falling from her eyes, while snot ran freely out of her nose like an open faucet, and she was sure there was a strand of spit clinging to her lip and stringing to the side of the trash bin. But Mario smiled at her regardless, eyes warm and kind and sweet enough to have her heart thumping. He kept the foul-smelling cloth close to her nose while he reached into his pocket with his free hand for a handkerchief. Peach tried to back away again when he reached out for her face.

“N-no, I’ll get it dirty,” she said in a wavering voice, trying to turn away.

He chuckled softly at her and shook his head. “That’s the whole point, Princess.”

She didn’t have enough energy to struggle with him, so she let him wipe her face even though she thought it was pointless. It felt as though she would start crying or vomiting again any moment, and her shoulders hitched with an anticipatory sob just at the thought. Once Mario had stuffed his handkerchief away again, he pulled something different from the depths of his pocket, and Peach’s brow furrowed when she heard it crinkling.

“I need you to try to eat this,” he said, holding it out to her, and when she saw what it was she let out another sad little sound. It was a hard peppermint candy.

She shook her head, leaning back and away even as he unwrapped it. “Nooo,” she said, drawing the word out like a child and feeling pathetic even as she did so. “I hate peppermint.”

That caused Mario to pause, and he looked behind her. “Does she?” he asked, and she realized he must be talking to Toadette when she heard the little woman’s voice pipe up.

“No, she’s just being contrary,” said Toadette, in a tone that suggested long suffering on this particular subject, mingled with amusement. “She’s always like that when she’s sick.”

“I’m really not,” Peach tried to defend, but over her head Mario and Toadette were exchanging knowing smirks where she couldn’t see.

Mario made a soft sound in the back of his throat, as if to soothe her, and he lifted the peppermint to her lips. “You can spit it out later if you want, but this will help for now. Please, Princess, just for a few minutes?”

His eyes were imploring her behind the candy pressed to her lips, and her heart thumped again. Why, oh why, had Toadette fetched Mario to help her instead of the nurse? Why was he the one seeing her like this, drenched in sweat and leaking from everywhere? She could feel a bead of snot starting to drip down from her nose, and she parted her lips and allowed Mario to feed her the peppermint before it could touch the candy. He beamed at her, and finally allowed the nasty cloth to drop away from her face.

“The peppermint should help soothe your stomach a little until we can get some proper medicine in you,” he said. He brushed hair back and away from her face, eyes flicking from her soaked hairline to her swollen lips, and he frowned for a moment as he seemed to consider something. He looked her over for a long moment. “Do you think you can stand up?”

Oh. She hadn’t been anticipating that. She felt as though she barely had enough energy to keep her head upright at this point, but she had to at least try, right? She bit her lip and hesitated for a long moment, but eventually she nodded and tried to stand.

It swiftly became clear that she was going to need assistance. Her legs trembled still when she tried to get them to cooperate, and she nearly pulled the trash bin over on herself when she tried to use it for leverage to stand up. Mario and Toadette were quick to her side to help, both trying to soothe her as she mumbled out apologies.

“M’so, so s-sorry, I-I just can’t…” she said, almost losing the peppermint. Toadette shushed her, moving the trash bin out of the way so Peach couldn’t hurt herself.

Mario took hold of her hands, hoisting her to her feet with little apparent effort, and when she proved unsteady he positioned himself under one of her arms, placing a large hand at the small of her back. She was slow to move and Mario was kind enough to let her, matching her pace as she shuffled across the tile. His being shorter worked to their advantage as well, as Peach wasn’t sure she would have been able to stand fully upright if she tried.

“Here, Toadette is going to help you get into a shower,” Mario told her as they approached the steaming stall. The water was already going and a bench had been dragged inside so she didn’t have to stand, clearly the work of Toadette while she’d been distracted with her illness. “The hot water and the pressure will help, alright? But before you do, you need to take this.”

He gestured and Peach saw that Toadette had both a tall glass of water and a couple of medicine tablets in her hands. Peach bit her lip, skeptical.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep it down,” she said softly, voice small and scared.

This wasn’t her being contrary, but genuine fear that she wouldn’t be able to stomach the cure for her illness somehow and she would just stay sick. She’d been going for three hours and hadn’t stopped, had hardly been able to catch her breath, could now barely walk across her bathroom. It didn’t feel like there was an end in sight.

“I think you can,” Mario said. He gave her a soft smile, and when he continued she swore it was like he’d read her mind. “I know it seems like it’s not going to stop, but this is going to pass. We got you walking, away from the bin. That’s an improvement already.” There was something a bit beseeching in his eyes. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course she did. That was like asking if water was wet, or if Peach’s favorite color was pink. She could see the look in Toadette’s eyes as she glanced between the two of them, the knowing, the smile that threatened to break out on her little round face, and Peach pouted briefly at her before she reached out for the pills.

Mario encouraged her to drink as much of the water as she could, though he urged her to drink slowly to not upset her stomach. Once the glass was empty, he took it and said that he would be waiting for them outside and then delicately handed her off to Toadette’s care.

Despite Peach’s apprehensions, Toadette did not take the opportunity to start teasing her—perhaps knowing the princess didn’t really have the energy for it at the moment. Instead she chose to explain how she’d run into Mario on her way to find Nurse Toadessa. Today had been a day Mario and the princess had been scheduled together, so he’d been waiting and worried when she hadn’t appeared for any of her morning duties. Upon hearing she was sick, nothing would appease him but to see her for himself and offer what help he could, even after it had been made plain what the illness was.

“He says he and his brother were sick pretty often as kids, so they know a few tricks,” Toadette told her, with a tone that suggested she’d been impressed. “And with a bit of rubbing alcohol and a peppermint, he had you on your feet.”

Oh, rubbing alcohol. That was what he’d been holding to her nose. Peach couldn’t help but be impressed herself, now that she had some of her wits back. He’d known exactly what to do to help stop the cycle, he’d even just happened to have a peppermint handy in his pocket. Now that she was out of the shower and into a new pajama set (Peach insisted if Toadette wouldn’t let her get properly dressed she should at least wear something other than a nightgown), Toadette had helped her hobble over to the vanity mirror and was helping her manage her hair. The candy that Mario had given her was nearly gone, and she crunched it away.

Her eyes widened suddenly and a pink blush stole over her face. She lifted a hand to her mouth in embarrassment.

“Did I really say I hated peppermint?” she asked in a little squeak.

Toadette laughed brightly. “Yes! You did!”

The princess buried her face in her hands.

Between the two of them they decided it would be best to just braid Peach’s hair back to keep it out of her face and comfortable to sleep in, and it became clear as Toadette brushed out her hair that Peach wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer. All of her energy had been drained by the morning’s stress, and now that the nausea had been tamed to a dull ache and she could finally relax, the weariness was catching up to her. When Peach tried to stand and walk away from her vanity, her legs trembled so badly that she had to take a seat again before she could get upright and she bit her lip hard against the sudden sting of tears. She lifted a hand to her face, covering her eyes. Oh, how she hated this. Hated to be a bother. Hated to need the help.

“…I think Mario might need to carry me,” she finally admitted to Toadette in a little whisper.

That was all she needed to scurry out of the room to fetch him; Toadette knew perhaps better than anyone else just how much Peach hated to feel like a burden—especially to Mario—so for her to say it in so many words meant that she knew she was at her limit. It didn’t take long for her to come back with Mario in tow, and Peach found herself a little surprised by just how solemn he looked until he laid eyes on her, and his mustache curled up in a gentle smile.

“You look like you feel better. Your eyes are brighter,” he said warmly, once he was within arm’s reach. Her heart fluttered a little at the sweet words—he always claimed he wasn’t very good with them, but he managed to say the nicest things to her. “Are you ready to move?”

She nodded, unsure if she trusted her voice not to waver if she tried to speak. He smiled at her again and slid an arm around her shoulders.

It was little effort for him to lift her into his arms and as always Peach was struck by how safe and secure she felt. For all his small size, he was so strong and fast and always, always so careful with her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and fought the strong urge to bury her face in there as well. She barely noticed as he walked her out of the bathroom and back to her bed, feeling like she was floating instead, and it felt like the time was cut criminally short when he finally laid her down. A lump rose in her throat and her hand shot out before she could stop herself, wrapping her fingers around one of his thumbs as he started to back away.

“Stay with me? Please?” she asked. Her voice was starting to catch up to everything that had happened, a bit hoarse and reedy. She shuffled back towards the center of the bed and tugged weakly at his hand, giving him the big, wet eyes that had usually convinced Toadsworth to let her have just a couple more hours to read before bed as a child.

“Princess…” Mario’s cheeks were pink and getting darker. He glanced around them, as though he was afraid of being watched, or perhaps of being caught. “I don’t think it’s very, ah, appropriate as your guard…”

Before Peach could say anything else, or come to her senses about what she was asking of him, really, Mario jerked forward a bit, stumbling against the edge of the bed. He turned and saw that Toadette was behind him, a firm hand pressed between his shoulder blades. The look on her face was no-nonsense.

“Take off your boots, please,” was all she said, and Mario knew that there would be no getting away.

He pulled Peach’s hand from his and gave it a soft squeeze before he leaned down to unlace his shoes so he could join the princess. He sat on top of the bedclothes, leaving what he must have thought was a respectful distance between them, and leaned carefully back as he turned to face her. He’d taken off his hat at some point, she finally noticed. His hair was a bit disheveled, as though he’d been running his hands through it and then hastily tried to comb it into place again. That lump in her throat returned at the thought of him being so concerned.

“I’m sorry I made you worry so much,” Peach said after a long few moments of silence.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Mario said back, almost immediately. He shook his head at her. “You can’t help being sick. It happens to everyone.”

She didn’t say anything back for a long moment, unable to come up with words to express what she was feeling. After a beat, Mario picked up one of her hands in his and she blinked when she realized neither of them were wearing their gloves.

The skin of his fingers wasn’t as rough as she might have expected, but his knuckles were a little hairy, and his nails trimmed. His palms were wide and creased, and he had a scar across his index finger she’d never seen before. Most of all, his hands were warm, and they utterly engulfed hers. She would never get tired of seeing her hands disappear inside of his.

“My brother and I used to get sick a lot as kids,” he said. She looked up at his face again and saw the spark in his expression, the one that always came through when he talked about his brother and made his blue eyes twinkle. “And Luigi would always apologize over and over for needing help, or for getting me sick because I helped him. Do you know what always I told him?”

Peach shook her head slowly, sinking back further into her pillow.

“Un peso che si sceglie non si sente,” he said, and the smooth, melodic cadence of the Italian words felt like it was dancing over her ears. His thumb caressed over her wrist, and her heart caught in her throat when he translated for her. “A weight that you choose is not felt.”

A weight that you choose? Did that mean he was choosing her, too, like he’d chosen to take care of his brother? That he didn’t mind the work, because she was important to him? That he wanted to be here, regardless of if she was sick or not? She didn’t like those kinds of questions—they had jagged corners that dug into her mind as they passed through. They hurt to linger on, like they might burn if she held on for too long, or too tightly. She knew what she wanted the answers to be; her pounding heart and the little zips of electricity from where their skin touched were too telling not to know. But asking them, putting them to voice, was too terrifying to even consider.

“I just…didn’t want you to see me like this,” she managed to say at last, with little energy and a melancholy that no one but Toadette had ever heard from her before. Her tiredness was really beginning to catch up to her.

Mario’s mustache tilted up, one of those smiles where she could hardly even see his mouth because it was hidden behind his thick facial hair. He squeezed her hand again. “Why? You’ve seen me in plenty worse states than this.”

“S’your job, though,” Peach said, and even fading she realized how that sounded. “I mean, not getting hurt, but… oh, you know what I mean.”

Her eyes were having trouble staying open, so she missed the utterly fond look that crossed his face as she scrunched her nose in irritation at herself, as well as how he lifted his free hand to his mouth to contain a laugh at how cute she looked, fussing over her own words.

“I know what you mean, principessa,” he said, once he had control of himself. He could see that she was fading fast, and he reached out to pull the blanket higher over her shoulder. “Just get some rest now. Maybe when you wake up, we can try to have some soup, yeah? Luigi knows this great recipe our nonna used to make…”

He kept going, telling her about how he’d ask his brother to share the recipe with the kitchens, about how it used to soothe them when they were young, about how his nonna used to serve it out of old heirloom teacups for the two of them, until he thought that she was finally asleep.

The last thing Peach thought she felt before she drifted off was a soft pair of lips and a slightly scratchy mustache pressed against her temple, but she was sure she just imagined it.

/fin

[lesbiansanemi]

Getting ready for my psych appointment like “I will get a good grade in adhd, autism, and bpd. This is something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve”

[cheriafreya]

this was painfully slow to go through, please don't ever do this again Hoyo :_)

[britneyshakespeare]

i finished the merry wives of windsor today btw. 4 shakespeare plays left to go

[k-from-that-one-fic]

I've only seen the first season of Big Time Rush, so I want to hear people's season 1 headcanons! (And you can include anything from the time during their first tour, since it technically happened between seasons!)

Please try to keep it safe for under 18 audiences, as the characters were also under 18 at the time, and I really don't want this blog to be flagged as unsafe. :')

Music headcanons from season 1 are also accepted, as are anonymous submissions through my page! They're all much appreciated~ Have fun with this! :D

[lausticzt-a]

I wish laura could let herself be loved but it happened once (1) that someone almost accepted her for who she was ( he also wanted her to stop her ambitions in settlement of a peaceful life with the best intents ; but was so insistent on keeping her safe and them running off for his version of a happy life ) flaws and all that man had to suffer through her antics for many years before his confession. After his death (she was so, so useless to do anything ; and that failure was one of the things that destroyed her spark), she really shut out everything.

all the men in the interior care about her family name and looks (she is so pretty ... only when placid) , and god do they always get so, physically close to her that she just stares into the distance. the amount of times she had to wait for them to get their arms off her and only once they're leaving does she look at them with ferocity in her veins. at a young age she was paraded around by her mother, and marriage was humoured at her from men twice her age ; which her mother delighted on. they were all sick.

she found so many familial bonds in the survey corp and that had meant, everything to her. that was where her true peace was ; even with all the death, the loss of those very people,, the endless fighting and endless gore --- she would say that was her happy life.

complements are wasted on her. her love is unconventional. face her bullshit head on. don't treat her differently , don't put up with her front -- she will show loyalty to individual people, never a cause. but you put up with her for so long and vice versa, she will run to you when you're hurt, barge through the door and the look of panic is something never before seen - she will have to stop herself immediately because (...) what was she doing. traumatic shit goes down? she's keeps looking at you from a distance and god, she's not the best person for it, but she will check on you, albeit, there's so much confliction on her expression because she's not great at it -- but she knows she wants to be there, so bare with her.

but after all that crap, you know if she did love someone, and she could admit that to herself ; it's a freeing feeling. it doesn't matter to say it, or have it known to the other person, but if it passes through that barrier, all she feels she can do for you is watch your back, and make sure you don't die or get hurt. she won't deny it. it will take years and years before she can come to that point ; but fuck, she's holds herself so differently. it is also so true in her platonic bonds she has to go through this entire process so many times jkfdh

[homicidalfelidae]

Mutuals I am once again faced with a wretched speaker phone conversation involving me. Lend me your strength.

[piromina]

Adrien was on Hawkmoth’s side, was he not? He was Hawkmoth’s son. He carried out all the orders he was given. Despite the death threats, and the assassination attempts, he was obedient and trustworthy and always did his job.

Chat Noir was on the opposite side. Chat Noir sabotaged the plans he knew just a bit too much about. Chat Noir fought akumas and fought Hawkmoth and saved the day and saved the world and absolutely was not a supervillain.

But as luck would have it, Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir happened to be the same person.

AND I'm back! to no one’s surprise, I've got yet another multi-chapter fic of this premise. adrien openly knows his father is hawkmoth. but hawkmoth doesn’t know that adrien is secretly the superhero chat noir. the boy who sits and listens and carries out his plans is the same boy who sabotages and fights and resists them.

leans HEAVILY into the core four aspect as well, as alya overhears something she shouldn’t, and ... well, you’ll see.

[herostoried]

Ochako doesn't know how to feel about Himiko Toga.

She knows how she should feel. The right, proper feelings for a hero - anger at her crimes, and a desire to stop her are all that should be present in her mind. Those things aren't entirely missing, either; but lately... she's been feeling all messed up. More than anything, Toga scares her, and Ochako doesn't like the feeling of being scared of a villain - but beyond that, lately she's been seeing a strange image in her mind.

Toga, in tears. Not the gushing, obvious kind that would look so out of place on her face, but tears just barely held back by the most sorrowful expression she could ever imagine. It's baffling to her. What reason would a killer like her have to cry? That's what she'd first thought, but... more and more, she's been wondering what happened to make Himiko Toga turn out the way she did. Surely, once upon a time, she was a normal girl like everyone else?

It makes her feel guilty, to have these thoughts, but there's no reason she should be. It's not like they're ruining her life or anything so dramatic. In fact, in the end, when she spots Toga in the most unexpected place, they're all but gone from her mind, replaced with an all-consuming terror that only her training as a hero has her able to control.

"You're- Himiko Toga? What are you doing here!?"

@maleerie ( starter for himiko! )

[sugultt]

# ANOTHER ROUND !

☆ synopsis. classic overstimulation with jujutsu kaisen men.

featuring. g. satoru, g. suguru, f. toji, n. kento.

tags. smut, p in v, pussy eating, overstimulation, squirting, cërvix pounding, faking orgasm, mirror sex, sex toys, mentions of aftercare, bondage, dacryphilia, choking, dirty talk ( inc: praise & degradation ), all lowercase intended, not proofread.

a/n. my first fic on here 🙂‍↕️, lowkey rushed but i just need to get something out atp.

GOJO ☆ SATORU

“ girl. . . you really thought i was going to believe that shit?” satoru tuts, accompanied by a sassy eye roll, broad figure looming over your placid body.

“ w-what? what do you mean?”

“ i know that you faked your orgasm.” your confusion is adorable to satoru— despite him being rightfully upset. there was no way for him to spot the difference between your fake and real orgasms; you even mimicked the way how your walls clamped down around his cock. but then again, who is gojo satoru if not extremely observant?

“ don’t believe me, huh? guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.” satoru darkly mumbles before abruptly pulling out of you. he maneuvers your body to the edge of the bed and into doggy-style position, so that you’re face to face with your reflection and what’s to come next. his calloused hand comes from behind to grasp your jaw, “ no matter what, don’t move or look away from this mirror.”

in one harsh thrust, he rams his cock inside of you. his grip moves from your jaw to the meat of your ass instead. you gasp loudly at the feeling of being stretched out once again.

“ mmph— o-oh! satoruuu,” your shriek is punctured by the onslaught of his tip mushing against your g-spot.

pat, pat, pat!

“ touch your clit.” he made eye contact with you through mirror. he slowly pulled his hips back before sinking into your wet heat again, giving you time to do what he demanded. his dick is fucking massive, and feeling him go much slower and deeper with his thrusts has you briefly incoherent, almost forgetting to do what he wanted. “ girl, you speak the same language as me, right?” he rolls his eyes when you nod dumbly. “ then do what i say and touch your clit, princess.”

you hiccuped, one manicured hand reaching down to gather the leaking slick from your stuffed hole to smear the wetness on your erect clit in slow circles, using the two fingers that has his initials on it specifically.

“ there you goooo, look at how you take my dick the right way, so fuckin’ sexy.” satoru lets out a low chuckle of approval when his gaze falls down to the meat of your ass clapping against his firm thighs. he spreads your ass cheek open with a strong hand to be meet with your hole greedily embracing his dick, a lewd creamy ring of your combined fluids wrapped around his base.

he returns to his tempo from earlier, and your fingers speed up with him. “ hey. say how much y’love my cock.”

“ i love your cock, toru!” you panted, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your tongue lolls out lewdly when his tip grazes against your cervix as your decorated fingers work together with him to bring you closer to your orgasm.

“ yeahhh?” he questions through gritted teeth, “ yell how much you love it. i need it after you bruised my ego.”

“ i love your cock sooo much! always makin’ me feel g-good, mhmm!” you slur his name before your breath altogether stops momentarily due that oh-familiar feeling building up.

“ satoruuu, ‘m gonna c-cum— ohhh!” your breath hitches in your throat, your folded body collapses onto the bed as your orgasm washes— drains your body. salacious fluids from your pussy spray everywhere, coating your fingers, thighs, and his pelvis in a sparkling coat of arousal.

“ heh, can’t fake that now, can ya?” he leans his body down so he can be closer to your ear, looking at your pleasure stricken face in the mirror.

his hips doesn’t falter their pace— even as he reaches down to look at you, effectively bringing you to the point of overstimulation as the pleasure from your orgasm fades into momentary pain.

“ p-pull out. . . ‘m still sensitive.”

“ pull out? but i have to do it again so the lesson will stick!”

GETO ☆ SUGURU

“ suguruuu, ‘s too much, i j-just came!”

“ if you want me to be honest, i really don’t care.” suguru looks over the expanse of your sweaty body, eyes trailing down from the valley of your breasts to your spent cunt. he lowers the setting on the vibrator while running the electric toy along the inside of your thigh. “ you can take another one, right?”

“ n-no, i’m still sensitive!”

“ silly girl, if you actually wanted me to stop, then you would’ve said the safe word by now.” he ignores your shrill protests, indistinctly following the path from your thigh to your cunt. he circles your pussy lips with the object next, downright grinning at how way your body spasms from the stimulation. he travels towards his target; once he’s finally above it, he presses against your overly sensitive bud, making your body react almost instantly to the familiar pressure.

you’re unable to do anything but squirm your lower body, as your hands are tied behind you— you’re barely allowed to move away properly because of the tight clutch suguru has on your legs, keeping them open for his twisted entertainment.

“ you feel her waving at me? telling me she wants more, and here you are screaming about how it’s too much?” he coos, the sound is mocking to your ears. suguru distracts you by leaning over to press soft kisses to your damp neck before sinking his fingers into your trembling sex, deviously curling them upwards. “ yer such’a liar. i’ll let it go since you’re pretty, but from now on i’ll be listening to your pussy talk instead.”

the orgasms that he gave you with the toy only was already too much, but feeling him add his fingers, stretching you out efficiently every time, added a whole new sensation.

“ suguru. . .” you dumbly pant out. you swear you can feel his fingers and the vibrator in your throat, harmonizing perfectly to make your body a wreck. his fingers curl in your gummy heat with experience, and the vibrating motion against your clit is a constant reminder that you’re way beyond your sensitive point— but that’s what makes it feel so good. “ ‘m gonna cuuummm!”

“ what was that talk earlier then? about it being too much? that you can’t take it? silly girl,” his hot tongue glides over your ear, and you can’t deny the shiver that rocks through your body.

your nerves feel as if they’re on fire, and your strained body begs for a break from suguru’s cruel onslaught. but he shows no signs of stopping; in fact, he’s getting off on this. you can tell by his blown pupils, flushed cheeks, and the evidence of his hard on straining against his loose sweats.

“ i want you to squirt this time,” suguru demands, salacious moisture from your pussy trickling down to his forearm. every push he delivers against your g-spot feels more alive than the, and the buzzing motion on your delicate clit has your vision brightening while the uncontrollable action of your legs increases. “ and if you don’t, we’ll just have to try again until you can.”

your body arches upward, your secured arms straining against the bonds as the pressure in your lower stomach builds up until the point where it’s unbearable.

“ cum for me, pretty girl. ‘nd make it messy.”

as if on cue, the tight coil in your stomach finally snaps while suguru and his companion— the vibrator, force this mind-shattering orgasm from your fatigued body.

your face scrunches into a silent scream, warm tears falling from your eyes and down the apples of your cheeks as clear fluids erotically gush from between your thighs. you swear you can see messages from the stars as your body is drained.

there’s a tense pause in the room, filled with the whirring of the sex toy and the squelching noise coming from your cunt.

suguru switches the vibrator off when you’re done coming down from your high, dragging his drenched fingers out with a loud ‘ popping ’ sound. he gathers your worn body in his arms, peppering your wet face in soft kisses— a drastic difference given the fact that he’s the reason why you’re exhausted in the first place.

“ let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? you did so good, princess.”

TOJI ☆ FUSHIGURO

“ tuh— toooji, ‘s too much!”

toji has your compliant body in a deep mating press with a strong grip on the bend of your knees, pressing them to your chest as he digs deeper in your saturated pussy with no restraint. your feet that are positioned on each side of his shoulders, and your moans harmonizing with the noises your pussy makes with each thrust of toji’s hips are the only signs of life beneath the determined man.

the developing pleasure was too much to endure. every drag and push of his hips made all your nerves feel as if they were alive and blazing on fire, leaving your mind completely blank, unable to form words or sentences that didn’t revolve around him or his name.

“ i. . . i can’t! ‘s too much, t-too big,” you cry, gripping at the tousled and fluid-stained sheets to pull away from the frenzied man above you— but the futile action is of no avail. he tuts disapprovingly, now throwing your legs over his shoulders to lean closer to your body warmth, finding a new angle and pace to mindlessly break you in.

“ where’re you running to? this weak pussy can’t be giving up on ya’ already,” he chuckles sharply— almost devilishly, as your eyes roll far into the back of your head when his cock makes out with that specific sweet spot while briefly knocking against your cervix, legs trembling around his shoulders. “ damn. . . we seriously need to fix that bad stamina of yours.” he’s so cruel in how he teases you, while you’re barely conscious enough to keep up with each slap of his hips colliding against your lower body.

his calloused hand slithers to your neck, where he squeezes the sides just right. the breath restricting sensation makes you even more keenly aware of his hefty cock mapping out your walls skillfully— from the determination and imposing size there would be no surprise if you discovered that your walls had the outline of him etched forever: every sturdy vein and dizzying long curve.

“ tuh— ooohhh, p-please right there,” you vigorously moan, voice slightly cracking from the strong grip around your neck. touching remarkable spots beyond your comprehension. toji grunts along with you, his cock severely buried in your velvety walls, feeling like he’s on cloud nine— no, impossibly above that. “ just like that! don’t sto—“

“ don’t stop, eh? what happened to it being too much, too big?” he mocks your earlier words, voice an octave higher to add salt to the wound, and you desperately want him to shut up. “ what a bad liar you are. although i didn’t believe it for a second, my pussy will never lie to me.”

you’re trembling underneath him, seeing messages from the stars even. toji languidly contracts his fingers around the sides of your throat while he forces his hulking dick inside of your crying, bruised walls— a silent warning that he’s going to come soon, as if his slutty groans and grunts weren’t also a reminder.

you both have fucked beyond count at this point, but to say you’re fully used to it, would be a far stretch.

“ heh, gonna cum soon. your pussy feels so fuckin’ good, just f’me,” you’re so wet that your cunt is downright sobbing around him. the arousal fluid on his pelvis makes contact with your erect, throbbing clit in quick motions. his thumb and forefinger lifts from your neck to grab you by the chin when you throw your head back, pulling you back down so you can look deeply in those dark cerulean eyes that soaks up each and every one of your reactions.

“ don’t look away, doll. wan’a see this slutty face when i cum.”

the expression you make is obscenely stupid yet cute; eyes half lidded, mouth parted enough for drool to seep from the corner of your mouth while your pupils are dilated as if you were drugged. his cock being the drug, that is.

“ such’a slutty dummy. guess that’s what happens when the strongest assassin is fucking you,” his hoarse laugh breaks into a strangled groan as he hunches over.

one last thrust is all you get before he’s dumping his large load inside of you. “ fuck baby, ‘m cumming! don’t. . . s-squeeze down on me like that, shit!”

“ c-can’t help it, tooojiii,” you drunkenly slur, shivering as the warmth of his fluid floods your senses, sending chills down your spine deliciously, leaking out throughout your clamped walls, coating his thighs messily, and coming together to soil the sheets even more. your stuffed so silly of him, barely moving although toji recovers quickly.

“ tapping out already? i didn’t even make you cum this round.”

NANAMI ☆ KENTO

“ that’s it, pretty lady. keep rocking your hips like that,” kento’s head rests on the back of the couch, his usual neat and slicked hair is frizzed from the effects of your fingers gripping the sweaty locks, while his pristine button shirt has a few buttons popped open, revealing his chiseled chest. his calloused hands find their place on your hips, grounding you down in a way that you can’t escape.

“ ‘s so d-deep, kennn,” your plumped lips are turned down into a obscene pout, knees planted on either side of the couch. your hips rise and fall on kento’s length, his hands are placed on the dip of your hips, his thumb drawing steady circles on your pulsing clit while you bounce skillfully on his lap.

“ ‘s too much, can feel you in my stomach!”

“ yeah, but you’re taking it so well, pretty lady.” he encourages you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you skillfully bound his dick deep in your snug, velvety walls. “ but if you want to stop, use the safe wo—”

“ n-no!” you protest— almost shriek at the thought of stopping when you’re so close to your orgasm. each swipe on your pulsing clit and thrusts from his rounded tip brushing against your cervix build up to bring you closer to your orgasm. the sultry, fucked out look on your face, your dazed eyes continue to make eye contact despite almost crossing due to the overdrive of pleasure, almost brings him to his edge right then and there. “ don’ w-wanna stop; it feels s’good.”

there’s a brief pause, where your tempo is the same, before you switch up— going for a faster approach, the bounces on kento’s lap drastically increase.

slap, slap, slap!

the sinful melody of your skin slapping against his firm thighs, sodden pussy squelching as your walls adapt to his size while you ram yourself down on his length, and your high pitched pants and cries were the most lewdly yet beautiful song that kento has ever heard. he can feel his dick twitching inside of you with warning— that’s how incredibly tight you are.

“ ‘m gonna cuuum!”

the sight of kento’s tossed back head and eyes squeezing shut tightly is enough to make your hips continue their onslaught, pressing your forehead against his flushed chest. “ kento, b-baby— i’m cumming!” your slurred words break into a strangled whine, body locking up as your orgasm floods your senses completely.

but he takes this opportunity to be rougher with you.

“ don’t go passing out on me,” his thumbs move from your spent clit, to grip your hips tightly while his feet are planted on the floor. there, he bucks his hips upward in your velvet cunt wildly— uncharacteristic for a calculated man like kento. “ i still need to come.” your jaw drops as your eyes roll back from the exhaust; your hands press firmly into his chest to keep your limp body upright.

the new depth of his dick molding your insides, kissing your cervix, oh so sweetly, sent you on the brink of tears.

“ yes, kennn! use m-me, fill me up, babyyy.” you babble out, warm tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

“ shit, i’m right there, just hang on f’me.” with one more thrust in your wet heat, kento comes with a low groan, that you definitely feel in your own body. you feel a great warmth flood your insides and leak out on your inner thighs and his pelvis— you’re so thoroughly stuffed of him that you can barely move.

“ don’t pass out on me, baby. have to get you cleaned up,” his voice is raspy due to all the groans and strained sounds.

“ mmph. . . in a minute, ken.”

[nezuscribe]

it's been three weeks since arranged!gojo, your husband, the man you're growing to care deeply for, told you he'd be back.

there was some dispute he needed to oversee with the eastern tribes, something about the land that one was fighting for, but he promised, promised, it wouldn't take over a week to settle.

now it's been nearly a month, and there has not been a single word from him.

your maids told you this was normal, but you didn't miss how they spoke in hushed tones, their brows furrowed nervously whenever the name gojo came up.

you can't sleep in his bed, the smell of him overtaking your senses and making you go insane. you go back to your old room, huffing as you turn around each night, not able to sleep. other times you'd pace the floors, picking at your nails until they bled, wondering about what could've happened, not able to shake off your last moments with him whenever you got to thinking too hard.

"i'll be back," he had murmured in your hair, cradling you close to his chest as he said his goodbyes. his strong arms caged you in, and you had no room to fight him off as you tried to nod.

"bring back some eastern sugar," you said, "i've heard it's good for pies," your words were muffled, trying to cheer up the mood. you heard him laugh, his chest rumbling a little bit, but there was a hint of anxiety laced in it.

"i'll miss you," gojo finally whispered, his men in the background shouting for the others to hurry up.

"i know," you mumbled, craning your head to look up at him, trying to crack a smile that just came out wobbly, "but i won't tell you i missed you till you come back."

he smiled, rolling his eyes as his thumb ran up and down your cheek.

"i promise i will."

well now it's four weeks later and you can't sleep at night, your past words haunting you, wondering if you should've just told him what he wanted to hear in case...

but a couple nights later, when you're sitting at your desk, looking out the window, you hear it.

the clacking of horse hoofs, their scattered neighs.

you almost think you've gone delirious from sleep deprivation, rubbing at your eyes as you stumble closer to the windowsill, squinting your eyes as you look in the dark.

but you see the distant torch, the way it's getting closer and closer to the estate.

you have no care for modesty, pulling a thin robe over your body as you run out of your door, nearly falling down the stairs as you skip every other one, your bare feet hitting the stone with such force that you nearly break it.

the maids and servants around you are bustling to get ready for their return, but you don't care, weaving your way through their bodies as you run out through the entrance. you can feel your feet getting scraped up by the rocks, the cold autumn wind biting at your barely clad skin, but you feel like you're not moving fast enough.

his horse is the first one you see, leading the group of tired and aching men. his black stallion is dark as the night itself, and you doubt he can see you.

but gojo does, and when his eyes find the shadow of your body from across the field he's abandoning formation, his feet kicking the side of the horse to make it go faster.

it's rushed, and the closer he gets the more you can see the damage on his body. the bandages around his arms, the ones that peek out from his tunic on his shoulder. his face is littered with scrapes and bruises, but his smile is blinding.

you run to meet him, watching as he mounts off of the animal, his strong arms throwing themselves around you are nearly crushing and almost makes you stumble backward if not for his support.

there's a heavy silence that follows, and you're glad that his men take the hint to go another way, knowing the dangers of leaving you two out alone on a field.

you can't breathe, your arms so tight around his neck that you're worried you might be choking him. the way he lifts you to get you closer to him would make your body heat up if not for the fact that you know he needs you to be almost one with him.

"i thought you died," you say bluntly, your words said wetly into his neck, your scattered tears wetting his skin.

"i know," gojo murmurs, feeling like he can finally breathe for the first time in a month.

he finds your lips in a messy kiss, biting at your plush skin as you moan, feeling like if he didn't have you near to him he'd probably die. he smells your lavender oil dotted on your neck, the lingering sweetness on your lips from something you probably baked to help with your stress.

his hands lift you up further by your hips, his strength, despite his injuries, still unbridled as you wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers weaving into his snow-white locks as you hear him mumble curses beneath you.

"i missed you," you say against his lips, his feverish kisses driving you to madness. the way you say it with a choked-out sob, your tears mixing with his own.

gojo whines, biting at your neck as he tries to hide his face away, the vulnerability that you bring out of him is something that even his enemies would probably gawk over.

"i promised i'd come back," his voice is nearly gone with the way he says it in between his sloppy kisses on your neck, tugging at the fabric that hides the bareness of your chest with his teeth.

you crane your head to look at him, hitting the back of his head gently with an angered look.

"three weeks late," you reprimand him, almost reveling in the stricken and kicked look he gives you with those eyes.

he goes to say something but stops, shuffling your weight onto one of his arms (he had the right to brag about his strength), and rummages around one of the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a bag as he waves it in front of your face.

you gasp, suddenly climbing off of him as you turn it around with your fingers. he pouts at the fact that you detached from him, trying to wrap his arms around your waist to haul you back up.

"is this...?" you look up at him, new tears sprouting in your eyes as you wail, almost dramatically as your head hits his chest with a thump, pulling him into another hug as you seem to sob louder from when you first saw him.

"you cry more over the sugar than me?" he mutters petulantly, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you just limply stand there.

"don't ever leave again." you bite out, pinching his back as he yelps, but still leaving a searing kiss on the side of your face.

"i won't...my lady," he whispers teasingly, and this time, his promise is undying. he'd be a stupid man if he ever willing left this again.

fuck those state affairs. gojo would rather be home with his wife, watching her bake as she scolds him for eating her batter.