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envy-of-the-apple · 3 months ago

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The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all.

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound.

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge.

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em."

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket.

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man.

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead.

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?”

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer.

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand.

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated.

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous.

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up.

They’re sugar-free.

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor.

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?”

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through.

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?”

You blink.

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.”

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard.

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger.

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor.

You gape. The man grins.

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical."

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless.

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps."

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you.

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?"

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you."

You shrink back.

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes.

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World."

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh.

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?"

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass.

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room."

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger.

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact.

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds.

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind.

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you.

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch."

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him.

"I said I believed you."

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying.

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you.

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs.

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive."

You pale at that. He notices.

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done."

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open.

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?"

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him.

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?"

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment."

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse.

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you?

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing."

The man leans in.

"What's your name?"

He smiles.

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition.

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him.

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists.

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!"

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin.

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway.

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful.

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you.

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing."

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care.

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this.

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided.

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.”

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?”

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop.

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off.

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response.

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.”

"Miyashiro?”

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before.

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.”

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?”

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures.

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together.

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant.

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy.

Nice. Just nice.

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his.

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry.

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about.

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in.

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking.

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people.

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it.

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen.

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling.

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-"

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off.

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation.

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much."

"I could eat," he says.

You smile.

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food.

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite.

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn."

You laugh out of nerves.

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself.

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle.

You're on your last bite when he speaks again.

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like."

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now.

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say.

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky.

"I think I'd like that."

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning.

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on?

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength."

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses.

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..."

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you."

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking.

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs.

You frown. "That's not very descriptive."

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies."

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting."

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu."

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?"

"Did it work?"

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see."

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom.

"You're blurry from far away."

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place.

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you."

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are.

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth.

"What do you see, Gojo?"

"Everything." He honestly replies.

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again.

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others.

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you.

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you.

"What do you see, Satoru?"

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how.

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile.

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants.

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping.

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long.

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask.

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter.

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking.

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?"

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?"

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined.

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling.

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas."

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one."

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask.

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant."

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?"

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along."

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here."

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?"

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours.

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human."

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him.

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone.

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat.

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again.

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy."

You stare at him.

"What?."

He grins, but it's not his usual one.

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention.

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are."

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes.

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you."

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then-

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie."

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed.

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you."

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you."

You scoff.

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit."

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that.

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking.

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance.

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall.

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right.

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway.

Ijichi gives a tight grin.

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-"

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking.

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know."

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers.

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't.

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was-

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him?

What was going to happen to you?

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back.

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him.

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river.

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous?

He calls your name, your real name, and you break.

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face.

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold.

He's warm.

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask.

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband.

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house.

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb."

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken.

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would."

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru.

"I'm sorry," you say.

He laughs. "For what?"

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment.

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones."

His tone gets a bit playful.

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you."

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you.

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again."

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?"

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face.

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided.

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says.

You glance at him. He's watching the screen.

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms."

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you.

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says.

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you.

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him.

He gives a secret grin.

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping.

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up.

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him.

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all.

It's just...strange.

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf.

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages.

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at.

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back.

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back.

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over."

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you.

"No," he says, "my caretakers."

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph.

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls."

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh.

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?"

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions."

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer."

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades.

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all."

You stare at him. He catches you.

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?"

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person."

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out.

This again. You roll your eyes.

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know."

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice.

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues.

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit.

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things.

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight.

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless.

At first, you think Satoru's hurt.

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching.

Pretty, blue, laced panties.

Your panties.

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again.

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp.

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards.

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move.

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back.

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty.

Monstrous.

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second.

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking.

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short.

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him.

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom.

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back.

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely.

You wake up alone the next morning.

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock.

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken.

A black dot stares back at you.

A camera.

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone.

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there.

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too.

It's easy to leave.

You stop anyway. One question.

Where would you go?

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed.

You'd die if you went back home.

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses.

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns.

At least, you know what Satoru wants.

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions.

Two things can be right at once.

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know.

Your hand falls away from the doorknob.

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom.

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes.

Blank. Numb. Empty.

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear.

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then.

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore.

“What do you see, Satoru?”

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath.

“Nothing but you.”

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

#yandere #yandere jjk #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #yandere gojo satoru #yandere x reader #dark gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere jjk x reader #dark jjk x reader #minor character death

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blkkizzat · 24 days ago

Text

🗂️—𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝟶𝟶𝟷........... THE STRONGEST ......filed under the that's not my jjk man series

visitor log: its midday and your clingy-ass boyfriend—gojo satoru—should be hard at work right getting rid of these doppels not knocking at your door—gotta be a fake... right?! classifications: bimbo!reader (canonverse of otaku!gojo's bunny!reader), yandere-esque Gojo, nipple play, recorded sex, lots of sex toys, dirty talk, panty theft, extreme overstim + slight omorashi. incidents: 4.4k .......shout outs to @yung-notorious for beta-ing some of this!

*knock-knock-knock-knock-knock*

Rapid, insistent knocks interrupt your laughter as you chat with friends, carefully brushing a fresh coat of polish onto your toes. You weren’t expecting anyone, but the familiar, overly enthusiastic rhythm—knocking out the tune of Rick Astley’s "Never Gonna Give You Up"—leaves no doubt who it is.

Satoru.

You sigh.

Although you haven’t seen Gojo much lately and are usually happy to see him, his timing this time irritates you for a couple reasons—first, of course he’d interrupt right in the middle of your much-needed girl time! You were desperate to hang with your friends again, especially after being stuck in lockdown for the last 2 weeks.

There was some juicy tea getting spilled on the call too!

More importantly, you weren't in a hurry to get up from the sofa—especially with your freshly painted white toes you’d propped up on the coffee table to dry. The last thing you wanted was to ruin them by getting dust on them while answering the door when Gojo wasn’t even supposed to be here right now.

“BBL, y’all.”

Reluctantly ending the call, you switched over to your Ring camera app.

Sure enough, the security feed loads to reveal Gojo, grinning up at the camera with his glasses perched on the brim of his nose and a large pink shopping bag in hand.

Huh? There’s no way he’s off-work already!

Taking note of the time it reads 1:30 p.m. confirming that Jujutsu society’s strongest sorcerer is skipping out on work, again—pshh typical.

“C’mon babe, let me in!”

Urgh, what was he even doing here?!

Shouldn’t he be the one leading the charge to kill all the doppelgängers? The faster he exorcized them, the sooner you’d finally be able to go outside again.

This doppelgänger outbreak felt like covid quarantine all over and it sucked!

Satoru needed to get his ass back to work so you wouldn’t waste the best years of your life cooped up inside!

“Go away, doppelgänger!”

You use the intercom feature to speak to Gojo, still not budging from the sofa.

Gojo pouts.

“But it's me, baby! Open the door Bunny bae, please I missed you princess—it’s been too long!”

Satoru’s annoyingly pretty baby blues look even bigger as he pleads into the camera, his lip quivering, making you roll your eyes.

It’s barely been 48 hrs since you’ve last seen him and he still blows up your texts all day!

But the world’s strongest sorcerer was also the world’s clingiest—so you suppose his doppelgänger would be too. Although, you were pretty sure this was the real deal, that still didn’t mean you wouldn’t give him shit for skipping out on work.

“Huh, that’s funny because there's no way you could be my boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, the strongest—and the one who is supposed to be making sure I’m not stuck in the house for another 2 years. It’s been freaking 2 weeks already Toru, I’m going batshit in here!”

Pushing his glasses back in place Gojo hides his scoff, standing up straight.

Shit.

He hopes you aren’t onto him.

Sure, he could have contained this whole thing in a few days tops.

Despite the doppelgänger ability to mimic appearances and cursed energy patterns, Gojo’s Six Eyes could see right through it easily. His power allowed him to perceive the core of a soul with perfect clarity, instantly distinguishing the souls of a human and a curse.

But instead of resolving the problem quickly, Gojo made up all kinds of excuses to you (and especially to the higher-ups) about why it was taking longer than expected.

The truth was, simple though—for once, just this once, he decided he had earned the right to be selfish.

Not having met you until after the covid quarantine, Gojo had never experienced that kind of isolation with you—and was immensely jealous that your last boyfriend had. Now that he had a taste of it, there was nothing he wanted more than to keep his lil bun-bun safely caged up, waiting for his return everyday (and he did try to make it back everyday).

Okay, so he is in fact being really selfish.

Luckily for everyone else though, most of these doppelgänger curses are relatively harmless other than causing absolute chaos with their mere existence alone—unfortunately they could also be seen by people even lacking cursed energy.

Gojo took care of the stronger ones, the ones with more nefarious intentions, while letting the little ones continue to run loose—all so he could have you to himself.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo is intentionally sentencing you to what seems like a never ending cycle of boredom so that when he finally gets home you cling to him like a grain of sweet sticky rice. So eager for any external stimuli or interaction you’d be up for all manner of his perversions you’d normally shoot him down for.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still a brat though, making him work for it—something that Gojo also noted was his fault though for spoiling you rotten, not being able to deny you anything. So you pretend to be annoyed when he showed up, but Gojo knew the truth—those thick thighs of yours would soon have your slick running down. Your cute, slutty lil pussy dripping would start dripping the moment you’d hear his voice.

Yeah, yeah, he’d get rid of those things eventually—but Gojo was going to enjoy this quarantine with you for a bit longer.

“Even the strongest need a break baby! I need my sweet lil’ energizer Bunny to recharge my batteries, eh?”

You crinkle up your nose seeing him wiggle his eyebrows on camera.

He's such a dorky cornball.

“And this break…it’s approved by Yaga, hm?” Gojo whines at your questioning, not wanting you to deny him any longer nor throw technicalities in his face he didn’t wanna have to answer.

“Come on, Bunny! I even brought you real nice gifts to show you how much I missed you!”

The hot pink shopping bag sways in front of the camera, Gojo dangling it as if it were supposed to be a tempting treat.

But he’d have to do better than some generic pink shopping bag to impress you!

You’ve gone back to your toenails, starting to apply the top coat while you let him squirm out there for a while longer. You knew he could break the barrier in the blink of an eye but you also knew that he was a big enough baby to want you to let him in on your own.

Well tough luck brah.

“That sure doesn’t look like a Chanel shopping bag, Toru!”

“Um, that’s cause it’s not—Bunny you told me you don’t even like me picking you out clothes anymore!”

You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes—of course you said that as whenever Gojo picked something out for you, it ended up being the most scandalous or over-the-top piece in the store. How he would even managed that at a classy brand like Chanel, you had no idea. (Though, little do you know, in reality, he always acted they were ready-to-wear while they were custom-made—just for you.)

“I got us some toys, baby bun! Don’t you wanna play with me?”

You don’t need to ask him ‘what kind of toys’ from the goofy ass expression that is on his face.

“That’s not making me want to let you in at all, Doru!”

“Hah? Wha—Doru!?”

“Yeah, short for Dopple-Toru.”

You try to keep a straight face but can’t help giggling as you sneak a peek at your phone, still putting on as if you're completely ignoring him. His expression on the camera is priceless though and you wish you could snap a screenshot of his mouth wide open, glasses nearly sliding off, looking utterly incredulous.

“Hey! Come on, Bunny bae, that's not funny! I know you know it’s me—and I also know your pretty pussy misses me!”

Oh knew, it was your perv ass boyfriend and yeah you did miss him—but you missed your freedom more! And for that reason you are gonna make him think twice before trying to skip out on work again. Not to mention, for having the nerve to show up once you finally found something interesting to stave away your boredom other than him!

“Hmm, I don’t know—prove it then, Doru…”

While Gojo loves goading you into playing games and usually lets you win them too, after nearly 48 ‘grueling hours’ away from you, all he wants now is to simply relax in your company. Ya know, nothing too crazy, just the typical cuddles with him calmly resting his face on your titties while his cock nestles deep up against your cervix—just something casual.

Gojo calling your bluff, ups the ante.

“Heh, kay…”

You’re actually not paying attention this time, admiring your work on your toes and contemplating on the color you should paint your fingernails as Gojo goes silent for a moment.

Yet once you hear a loud zip, the rustling of fabric, and a belt clank to the ground your eyes practically bulge out of your head as you grab your phone, bringing it comically close to your face while blinking multiple times just to be sure.

Satoru quite literally has dick and balls out, dangling in the breeze, in front of the entire goddamn neighborhood!

And despite your initial horror and best efforts to remain upset, you pause, your inner slut causing a slight brain malfunction—as even from the small ring camera you can see his deliciously thick cock bobbing fully erect while his mushroomy tip shamelessly drips viscous globs of pre onto your welcome mat.

Thankfully your short-circuiting of common sense only lasts a few seconds before it starts functioning again.

“TORU HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING SUGAR-FUELED MIND!? YOU KNOW THE HOA IS ONE MORE INCIDENT AWAY FROM KICKING ME OUT, RIGHT!?”

Sighing, you groan in dismay as you’ve been on thin ice with your HOA for a while now because of Gojo.

Not only have you received the most noise complaints in the neighborhood by far, but he also made ‘alterations’ to your home by installing unsanctioned rows of cypress trees. Claiming it was a safety precaution to block the view inside your home from your ‘sketchy neighbors.’ He also ever so obnoxiously takes up 2 parking spots on the street so no one could even “park too close to scratch his Benz” and even sometimes double parked in front of your neighbors house when all the street parking was taken.

You would most definitely be kicked out if anyone in the neighborhood saw all of Gojo’s fairly large bits and pieces freely on display.

And yeah, Gojo did know that.

He also knew if you got kicked out and had to move you’d have no excuse then not to move-in with him.

Where else would you be able to stay on such short notice? He soon turn that temporary situation into a more permanent one too.

Finally leaping to your feet, you practically trip over yourself—all thoughts of preserving your polish forgotten—as you sprint to the front door.

You can’t get there fast enough, yet as soon as you do, you don't hesitate to lower the barrier and fling the door open.

“Hey sweetn—”

Cutting him off, you grab Gojo by his collar and yank him inside before slamming the door shut behind you.

But you don’t get a chance to scold him. The moment you turn to face him, your lips suddenly meet his, and his large frame envelops yours into a warm embrace.

Your first instinct is to push him away, but even when meeting your furious eyes he just grins knowingly—twirling his pointer finger in the air above him. You frown, confused, until it hits you—Gojo has set up another barrier over your own.

No one could have seen him, but he’d let you believe that so you’d let him in faster.

Urgh, Toru is far too crafty for his own damned good.

It's your turn to pout now, having clearly lost this round badly.

But Gojo doesn’t let the expression linger—his mouth is hot and hungry on yours again in an instant. Your soft lips are easily parted by his thumb as he slows to tease his way past your lips to glide his silken tongue into your mouth causing him to sigh—you taste sweeter than any candy to him.

The kiss soon turns more passionate as the strokes of his tongue flick longingly over yours, devouring you as he skillfully melts away your anger—in addition to all the bones in your legs. Reduced to a puddle of goo you completely forget you were just about to cuss him out as your legs now press together from the throbbing between your thighs. Your need becoming more agonizing as you grow dizzy from the lack of air.

When Gojo finally lets you breathe again, he chuckles at your dazed expression. Your lids are lowered and you press your body deeper into his own, clutching onto his collar as you nestle your face into his neck, savoring his scent washing over you.

“So despite all that sass, I take it you actually missed me then?”

You nod eagerly against his skin, in spite of yourself. Even though he isn’t supposed to be here right now, you can’t hold back any longer how happy you are to see him.

“And my pretty Bunny girl is going to let me play with her now?—All of her?”

You gasp as Gojo does not wait for an answer before slipping a hand into your shorts. Hissing at your heat, Gojo swipes his thumb over the outer folds of your cunt and his fingers quickly are becoming soaked before they even got the chance to get up inside you.

Placing a chaste kiss on your temple Gojo's agile fingers had merely confirmed what he already knew: You’re utterly drenched—his needy, cute lil’ pussy was quite literally begging for him and who was he to deny her?

ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩ᡣ𐭩

“F—Fuck! P-pussy too good. Keep the phone up though, nice and straight Bunny! T-That’s it, you’re the best! SHIIIIT— n’you got the cutest sluttiest lil cunny! C-Can you get a close up of how well my cock is digging out your pretty lil’ bunny hole?”

“Mmmgh!”

Gojo’s filthy words and his even filthier fat cock are bringing you closer to your ecstasy filled ruin as they push you past your limits, engorged veins scraping your walls with every thrust. You're covered in sweat and your entire body buzzes—quite literally as there are vibrating clamps suctioned onto each of your nipples.

Mmmm, it all was driving you wild!

Not imagining yourself in this position when you woke up this morning at all.

Especially as initially, when Gojo said he bought toys, you thought he had meant fuzzy handcuffs, silken ropes or maybe even some more of that warm edible candle wax that tastes like strawberries—but all this!?

You could barely see out of your bleary, tear-filled eyes completely caking your cheeks in streaks of your mascara that while supposedly waterproof, definitely is not Gojo Satoru proof.

In addition to the mind-numbing bliss radiating off your swollen perky buds, your body was covered in some sort of edible oily slick. The warmth was initially similar to that of candle wax—yet morphed into anything but. This time the heat was coming from the flames your own body generated as the effects of the candied warming oil made every part of you saturated in the fluid buzz with need.

Of course, after soaking your body with it down the tips of your toes and paying extra attention to your nipples, Gojo had been thoughtful enough to pour the most of the remaining bottle over your throbbing lil’ clit.

Except now there isn’t just a shallow throb between your legs as the fiery sensation of every individual nerve in your cunt was cries out for him to ruin you harder.

Your legs are wrapped around him impossibly tight as your heels dig into the small of his back and yet somehow, he still manages to snake a hand between your slippery bodies to pet his favorite girly spot on you—your clit. Toying with the swollen nub in a painfully slow manner compared to the intensified thrashing of his hips against your own.

The motions only serve to push the heart-shaped platinum and pink sapphire adorned butt plug deeper into your ass with every loud vulgar smack of your wet bodies joining—the strange feeling of it jostling against the very walls his cock was drilling has you drooling as Gojo further tests the limits of passion he can push over.

“C’mon Bunny, you're going to miss the best part, ya better capture it really well how much squirt I can pump out of this cute cunny—or we’ll simply just have to do another take. Not that I’d mind spending all day in your pussy…”

You're not in your right mind to scold him for trying to skip out on more work and you certainly don't have the full capacities to hold his phone up any better—what with your hands were tied together over your head to the bed. Gojo utilizing the fuzzy cuffs afterall.

You can’t even really see if you are getting the right angle as you desperately hold onto the device, keeping it straight and upright lest it slip and drop right on your head.

“Always such a good girl for me huh, princess?”

Tuh—like he was giving you a choice!

You're unable to clap back though as your tongue, so lax from all the pleasure, sinks back to the roof of your mouth. The slobber gathered pools past your lips, over your chin, down your neck to your tits and Gojo is eager to slurp the train up your body and back to your lips, kissing you.

It goes without saying, but Gojo in ‘director’ mode is absolutely diabolical.

The reason being needs the perfect footage of him playing in your guts to make sure he had good enough material to fap to if you wanted him to spend more time away from you while he hunted down the doppel-curses.

“Be good for me a bit longer, ‘kay baby?”

Yet his gentle coos don’t match his demeanor.

Glasses long discarded, Gojo’s own blue eyes looked crazed. He’s unconcerned with the sweat matting his hair to the sides of his face or the wave of slick your pussy splashes onto his taut abs. Abs are shuddering from just how tight of a hold your pussy has on him—working him overtime as his heavy pants soon twist into deranged lil whines.

“M-Me and my lil’ buddy missed our two girls so, so, s-sooo much—AH-HAH-F-FAHHHCK! G-Gotta show ya just how much!”

Shamelessly, Gojo had dubbed his cock—his little buddy—the joke that would have emasculated some men but Gojo made it intentionally with the irony that he was anything but little.

“T-They were made for each other baby—lil’ buddy and the wet pretty girl between these thighs, yeah?”

The ham that he is, Gojo always sounds extra insane whenever a camera is recording, howling with amusement when he watches the playbacks. Yet in this very moment, he was as serious as a heart attack—and you definitely weren't laughing as your weeping pussy gets pounded into deeper into ecstasy filled oblivion.

“Shhh—Stawwp, S’toruuuuu!”

Tsk, you still could form a coherent thought?

That simply wouldn’t do for Gojo who is working so hard and bought all these new toys to see you come completely undone—and he needed you too soon as he wouldn’t last much longer in your squishy gooey core himself—not how your cunt was holding him in the wettest sluttiest lil hug.

There's still one item left that he hadn't used yet though, that in trying to keep up his sleeve he'd nearly forgotten about entirely—his own brain quickly leaving itself on simmer by your greedy lil’ pussy sucking him in so sloppy.

Slightly changing your position for more leverage, he throws one of your legs on his shoulder slotting himself between your cushy thighs while he straddles the other leg. Fucking you sideways with increasing intensity from the bruising grip on your hips pulling your pelvis towards on him as he meets your thrusts smacking directly into your cervix.

“Heh, I know what will finish you off! Ya ready to cum baby? Squirt all on this dick you love so much, eh Bunny?—Yeah ya fuckin' will.”

When you don’t answer right away Gojo delivers a harsh slap directly on your clit, the moisture causing the increased sting to intensify sending your senses into a state of floating. Yet, bringing you back to reality, another harsh smack lands on your cunt and you jerk against your restraints, nearly dropping the phone on your face for real this time.

You don’t understand what he's saying to you but you not regardless, eyes rolling back into your head—every single pore on your skin submerged in pleasure. Completely unaware, you don’t hear the additional buzz of the final toy until you feel its silicone lips latching onto your clit while the rigid faux tongue juts back and forth across your bud.

Eyes practically leaving your skull for the second time today, everything flashes white, blinding you even with your eyes wide open. A scream so guttural it comes out silent, the ball of tension in you finally bursting as releases flushes through your entire body.

Cumming harder than you ever had before, you just let go completely, gushing around Gojo’s thick cock still pistoning in your now drenched pussy. The splash zone from your cunt is quite a bit more than usual as a giant warm wet spot begins to soil and expand underneath you both.

Ears ringing, Gojo sounds a million miles away as you hear him chattering on about something—the phone?

You wiggle your fingers, realizing you must have dropped it, but you’re still clueless about what has him so excited—until Gojo’s voice finally slices through your haze, yelling out in absolute wonderment—

“HOLY SHIT BABY, DID YOU JUST PISS ON ME??? MMM FUCK ME FOR REAL!?—SHIT! YOU WETTER THAN A WATER PARK BUNNY—SO FUCKIN NASTY! PLEASEEEEEE PLEASEEEE TELL ME YOU GOT THAT ON CAMERA!”

Suddenly, it dawned on you that when you had let go, you had quite literally let it all go.

You could die—and if you could muster the strength to move you surely would have raced out to the backyard to quickly dig yourself a whole to do just that in. Yet that clearly would not an acceptable conclusion for your degenerate perv of a boyfriend who is acting like a sinner saved—praising pussy like a newly reborn evangelist baptized in the essence of your erotic filth.

His elation is simple as he figures how much you really had to trust him to be able to let go and lose yourself to him to that extent—now he wants to lose himself to you as well.

Easily drowning all inside your sloshing pussy like he never swam—Gojo doesn't stop, your pissing only encourages him to fuck himself further into a pussy drunk state to rival your own cock-induced stupor.

Yet, somehow he still maintains enough control to effectively lavish praises for how naughty and shameless your lil pussy is.

The frenzy drives him directly to his nut, eyes dilate further and slobber frothes past his lips while spearing his cock into you with renewed vigor. Whimpering and stuttering his words and hips alike. Gojo presses your leg draped across him back against you to be sandwiched between the two of you as leans forward to further ravage your swollen kiss bitten lips again.

Twisting you up like a pretzel and near the point of passing out from overstimulation you his insane joyous laughter sounds miles away as he topples over his peak pumping ropes of his vicious cum—that he’d been saving up for all you over the last two days—into your battered creamy core.

Gojo’s thrusts begin to slow but he’s in your guts just as far pushing cockhead right against your cervix stealing your lips into another fiery kiss.

Once Gojo finally lets you breathe air again, you’re completely out of it, the dopey blushing smile on your face. The embarrassment from pissing all over him is completely forgotten as hearts all for him linger in your eyes.

Sex with Toru was never dull to say the very least.

“There you go, there’s my good girl, huh Bunny? Not bored anymore baby?”

Gojo smirks down at you knowingly while peppering your face with sweet loving kisses as you’re steadily drifting off, allowing every exhausted nerve to claim you.

It's still a good minute before Gojo slides out of you, seeinghis discarded phone next to you—it's still recording. A mischevous smile plays on his lips.

Wanting to capture the aftermath of his handiwork, Gojo sweeps the phone across your body, thumbing off moisture from your dewy soft skin soiled with warming oil and sweat. Making sure to linger longer on your lightly heaving chest and the sporadic quiver of your thighs.

Zooming in even closer, Gojo’s two long fingers to part your swollen lips open, admiring more of his work—his masterpiece that was the copious amounts of cum and piss dribbling out of your abused lil’ hole down to the crack of your ass.

Now Gojo really has a dilemma—he wants to keep filming you as his cum, ever so slowly, trickles out of you. He thinks this scene would make the perfect time-lapse of the creamy sap seeping from your cunt like sugar maple. But he’s also fighting the urge to also suck all the creaminess out of you himself—the cum rimming around your puckered lower hole tempting him to Gojo start there and slurp and suck his way up your clit.

Truly, he never gets enough of how his taste mingles with yours—and he’s quite curious to know how the additional waterworks will add to your delectable flavor.

You were so fucking filthy and so willing to try new things all thanks to this doppel quarantine causing you to make this big a mess in the first place.

God he needed this.

More.

He had to have more from you.

Gojo couldn’t possibly bring this all to an end anytime soon. Cooing against your inner thigh Gojo makes a promise to your cunt.

“Heh, don't worry pretty girl, I'ma give you six more months of quarantine at least! Can't wait to—”

“—TORU, ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!?!?”

Whoops.

Yeah he definitely thought you were already fast asleep—teehee.

......RESULT: PASSED 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍—𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚒𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎.

that's not my jjk man series (visit series page for full animation)

comment and reblog! next up toji, already finished posting—10/20

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

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homunculus-argument · 3 months ago

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I just had the most finnish social interaction of my life.

For backstory, Finland has a bottle/beverage can recycling system where most drink containers have a return deposit of a few cents - from 10 to 40 cents depending on the size of the bottle or can. All grocery stores and most convenience kiosks have a bottle return machine (which english wikipedia apparenly refers to as "reverse vending machines", which amuses me) where you can return the empty containers and receive a receipt which the cash register trades for money. The return isn't much but they add up surprisingly quick, and it's pretty common for people who are in the need for such cash to seek for and collect bottles and cans for recycling money.

I was going on errands on foot today, and had gotten myself an energy drink as a little treat on my way. Once I had gone through it I naturally held onto the bottle instead of throwing it to the trash, because bottles are money and 20 cents is 20 cents. On my way I saw an old man with a long grey beard, in a dirty t-shirt, approaching slowly on a bicycle. As he got closer he looked at me, glanced at my bottle and then back to me, while I looked him in the eye, glanced at the scraggly plastic bag hanging from his bike handle, and then back to him. Had his bag been full of recycling cans like I had first assumed, I would have stopped him right there and asked him if he'd like to have my empty bottle as well.

However, he had other assorted stuff in the bag, and therefore it would have been rude of me to assume that he is gathering bottles, and in return it would have been rude of him to stop me on my way to ask me if the bottle is empty and whether I'd like to be rid of it. But I saw him glance at the bottle and he saw me glancing at his bag, so both had reason to assume that he had more use for it than I would. But stopping strangers to address them like that is rude, so we passed each other without saying a word.

However, I was a stride away from a bus stop (which he had just passed) and I paused for a second to put my empty bottle on top of the trash can attached to the bus shelter. Looking over my shoulder to look at the old man, I saw him turning to look over his shoulder at me. So I nodded at him and he nodded at me, turning his bike around to retrieve the bottle as I left it there and kept walking. Neither one had said a word, but with a few seconds of eye contact, two pointed glances and a few quick nods, we managed to communicate through mutual assumptions, context clues and vague gestures that we could both do each other a favour.

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sunsburns · 3 months ago

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four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

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pure-smut · 3 months ago

Text

sunshine.

featuring: Hinata Shoyo x f!reader

contains: timeskip!Hinata, best friends to lovers, unprotected s*x, creampie, slight overstimulation at the end

word count: 2.4k

note: all characters are aged up to 18+!

MDNI | 18+ content

Masterlist

a/n: if anyone knows the artist for the cover picture, I searched everywhere and couldn't find them!! Pls and ty in advance <3

When Hinata Shoyo left for Brazil, it was like an eclipse over your life.

You’re best friends so you still talk almost every day, whether it’s quick messages squeezed into busy days or a video call right as one of you wakes up and the other one is about to sleep. But Hinata was the sunshine in your life - a bright, burning ball of energy that powered your days. When he left, everything went a little bit gloomier.

You’re busy yourself with college – meeting new people, keeping up with classes, and making time to catch up with everyone from Karasuno. Still, it feels like a candle trying to compete with the sun.

So when you show up at a house party, not really feeling up for it but wanting to see your old classmates again, you stop dead in the doorway.

Sitting on the sofa, surrounded by everyone you know, you see shock of orange hair and hear a familiar laugh. Your mouth falls open.

“Sho…?”

Hinata turns at the sound of your voice, a broad smile breaking out on his face. The moon slides to the side, the sun shining again. Your heart thunders in your ears.

“Y/n!” he calls out, leaping up and sprinting over to you.

You’re still in shock when he scoops you up into a hug, squeezing you tight.

“You’re here?” is all you can say.

Hinata doesn’t stop hugging you but you hear him laugh, vibrating through his chest.

“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He pulls back to grin at you, brown eyes alight. “Are you surprised?”

You huff out laughter, your shock subsiding, and wrap your arms around his neck for another hug.

“It’s a great surprise,” you say, smiling hard.

It’s only when you put your arms around him that you realise how big he’s gotten. He’s a few inches taller than before and he’s broader than you remember, his shoulders hard as rocks. When you pull away from the hug, you hope he doesn’t notice the blush dusting your cheeks.

You both make your way into the party to a chorus of greetings from your old classmates. Hinata sits back down on the sofa but you linger, realising all the seats are taken.

“Um…”

“Sit here, y/n,” Hinata says, patting his thigh.

You don’t know why the idea makes you blush so hard – you and Hinata were always physically close, not afraid to hug or touch. Maybe it's because it's been years since you saw him in person. Maybe it's because...

You search his face for any sign he feels as flustered as you but he’s wearing an easy smile, his head cocked to the side as he waits for you to reply.

“S-sure,” you stammer out.

As soon as you slide onto Hinata’s lap, his arm snakes around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. His thighs are solid beneath you, as built as the rest of him. You obviously knew he trained hard in Brazil but you didn’t realise just how much he’s changed. You chance a glance at him, wondering if anything else has changed.

Hinata catches your eye.

“You okay?” he asks, flashing you a smile. “Comfy?”

Confidence. Hinata hasn’t only gained muscle in Brazil – the awkward teenage boy you knew has been replaced with a man. A man who flirts with his best friend, who invites you to sit on his lap with ease.

You wonder if he’s flirting because it’s you or because it’s his personality now. You’re not sure.

You’ve been quiet for too long because Hinata’s smile starts to drop. His eyebrows furrow.

“Seriously, you okay?” He lowers his voice, leaning in closer. “You don’t need to sit here if you don’t want.”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. Sorry, I was just…” You give him a sheepish smile. “I was thinking, you’ve changed a lot.”

“I have?” Hinata looks genuinely confused before his expression clears. “Oh! Yeah, I grew like three inches!”

He grins wide and you smother your laughter.

“I mean, yeah, that,” you say. “But you’re like… bigger.”

You get the first glimpse of the Hinata you used to know as his cheeks tint pink. He rubs the back of his neck bashfully and you’re treated to his bicep bulging with the movement.

“Heh, yeah, I guess so.” His eyes swivel to yours. “You’ve changed too.”

This catches you off guard. You glance down at yourself before looking back up at him.

“Me?”

“Yeah. It’s like you get prettier every year.”

Your cheeks go hot. Hinata holds your gaze and you get a familiar feeling in your stomach, something you haven’t felt since he left. Intense, like you’re looking directly at the sun. Your skin prickles and you feel light-headed, like you’ve been sunbathing too long. It’s the effect Hinata has on you, that he’s always had on you.

Your sunshine.

Hinata’s hand tightens on your hip, not looking away. There’s something taut between you that thrums with electricity. You know there’s a party full of people around you but everything around Hinata has fallen into darkness. He’s the burning ball of fire in front of you, blocking out all else.

“I really want to kiss you,” he confesses, voice low and thick. “But I want to do it somewhere better. You deserve somewhere better.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. You open your mouth to say something but your voice sticks. You give a small nod instead, not able to tear your eyes away from his.

“Let me take you out tomorrow,” Hinata says. “Please?”

You lick your lips to wet them and Hinata eyes dart down before flicking back up.

“Yeah,” you manage to croak out. “I’d really like that.”

Hinata grins like he’s just won a volleyball game, his ears pink. You both return to the chatter of the party but you feel Hinata’s thumb tracing circles on your hip, his hand on you the entire night.

You spend the entire next day trying on clothes and throwing them to the floor. Hinata had told you to dress nice and be ready for 7pm but he insisted on keeping the rest a secret. The closer that 7pm gets, the more frantic you are.

Eventually, you settle on a short black dress, showing just enough leg and cleavage without looking like you’re about to hit up a club. You’re finishing the last of your make-up as the doorbell goes. 7pm on the dot.

You open the door to see Hinata grinning, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and your heart melts. He’s wearing a fitted emerald green shirt, tight across his chest and arms, in contrast to the fiery orange of his hair. If you hadn’t noticed the change in him before, you wouldn’t be able to ignore it now.

But Hinata’s smile falters as he sees you. He blinks once, twice, his mouth dropping open. His eyes trail down your body as his ears turn hot pink.

“Holy shit,” he exclaims.

It’s your turn to blush under the intensity of Hinata’s gaze. You gesture for him to come inside and he does as you close the door behind him. You barely have time to turn around before Hinata closes the space between you, forcing you to press your back against the door.

Hinata scoops his hand under your jaw, tilting your face up to his. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he dips his head, his other hand finding your waist. When he kisses you, he feels like molten fire.

Hinata’s lips are soft but his grip on your jaw is firm, only a fraction of his strength. You clutch at the hard muscles of his back, anchoring yourself to him. When his lips part yours to deepen the kiss, you give no resistance. His tongue meets your own as you moan into his mouth, melting under his touch. Hinata’s body responds, his cock hardening until you can feel it pressed against your lower stomach.

When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

“I’m sorry.” He presses his forehead against yours. “I had a whole plan but when I saw you…”

Hinata tightens his grip on you, his fingers tangling in your hair as he cradles the back of your skull.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he finishes, shaking his head. “I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

“It was perfect,” you tell him and it’s the truth.

You’re almost dizzy and your skin feels like it’s on fire. You’ve always missed your best friend but now you crave him. Your hands run up his back as you reach up to kiss him again.

“Fuck…” he mumbles against your mouth. “I don’t wanna stop.”

“Then let’s not stop,” you say, kissing across his jaw.

“The reservation…” Hinata’s hips grind against yours on instinct as your lips reach his neck. “Our – ah – date…”

He groans as you lick across his windpipe, his bulge now apparent as he continues to grind it against you, his body moving of its own accord.

“I waited so long to show you…” He sounds so upset with himself.

“Sho.” You take his face in your hands, looking at him. His eyes are half-lidded and glazed over. “All I want is you. I don’t need anything else.”

Hinata’s face softens. He leans forward to bury his face in your neck.

“I missed you so much,” he says, voice muffled. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You reach around to run your fingers through his vibrant hair, feeling him shudder with pleasure under your touch.

“Show me,” you whisper.

Hinata’s resolve crumbles. He’s spent so long taming his impulsive side, the part of him that moves without thinking, without regard for consequences. But now you’re in front of him, asking him to take you, and the rest of the world goes white.

He dips his head to kiss you again, this time with intent. His hands grab at you, fingers digging into your flesh as he presses you flush to him, trapping you between his body and the door.

As his tongue laps into your mouth, he reaches down to grab your thigh, holding it up and forcing your dress to ride up over your hips. His bulge grinds against your clothed pussy, the friction making your clit throb with need. You tilt your head back and sigh as Hinata trails wet kisses down your neck.

With two layers of fabric between you, you start to whine, needing more. Hinata’s spent years wondering what you sound like, imagining the noises he could get you to make, but nothing compares to hearing you for the first time.

His movements are frantic, hooking his fingers over the hem of your panties before tugging them down. They’re not even fully off, still dangling around your ankle when Hinata unzips his jeans, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free.

Now it’s happening – now it’s finally happening – he can’t hold back. He grabs your ass with both hands, lifting you until you can feel his fat tip pressing against your hole.

“Are you okay?” he breathes. His cheeks are flushed pink, his lips red and swollen. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, Sho. I need you.”

Hinata presses you against the door as he pushes himself inside. He doesn’t want to go too fast, doesn’t want to hurt you, but as soon as he feels your walls around him, he can’t help himself. He pumps in and out of you shallowly, desperate for more friction from your heavenly pussy without going too deep too fast.

“Ah!” you gasp as he penetrates your needy hole, the ridges around his mushroom tip stimulating your nerves in a way that makes your thighs quiver.

You wrap your legs around him, encouraging him deeper. Hinata is more than happy to oblige, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he sinks his cock further inside you. You grip the hard muscles of his shoulders, feeling him reach the sensitive spot inside you.

When you open your eyes, you see Hinata watching your face intently, a notch between his brows. His eyes have done dark, that same intense look in his face when he’s locked onto something. Or someone.

Hinata’s cock slides back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you and you know it’s pushing you close to the edge.

“T-there, Sho…” you whimper. “Right there, fuck-!”

Your voice is so sweet, so high with lust and need. Hinata picks up his speed, fucking you so hard the door rattles behind you. You didn’t know he had this in him, this feral side, but you’re more than happy to be on the other end of it. Your cunt is drooling over his cock, only making it easier for him to fuck you as hard as he wants.

“Sho, I’m… I’m gonna…”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, your toes curling as he brings you to orgasm.

Your plush, slick walls massage his cock, quivering around him as you cum. Hinata’s stroked himself to the thought of you before - many times - but nothing comes close to this. His fist can’t compare to the way you milk his cock, so hot and tight. But it’s your face that Hinata can’t stop watching.

The way your lips part, your features contorting in pleasure, your eyes glazed over with lust. Hinata knew when he left for Brazil that he loved you. He didn’t think he could fall any further. Until now.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans, his cock throbbing, knowing he’s close. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Even as he cums, Hinata can’t stop fucking you. He unleashes thick ropes of cum inside you, still pumping in and out, a flurry of curses falling from his lips. The mix of your fluids is indescribable, the noise of your sloppy cunt only spurring him on. He keeps going until he can’t cum anymore, until it’s almost painful. Only then does he pull out, a flood of his cum following, running down your thigh.

“Holy shit,” Hinata gasps, releasing his grip on you so you can stand.

When your legs quake, he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you up.

“Fuck, Sho…” you huff out laughter.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, running a hand over his face. “Fuck.”

Hinata glances down at where your dress is stained with his cum and winces.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me clean you up. Where’s the bathroom? I’ll run you a bath.”

“Slow down,” you laugh. “Let me look at you a second, okay?”

You reach up to cup his face and he rests his hand on yours, turning to kiss your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s make up for lost time, hm?” you say with a smile and Hinata looks at you like you’re made of sunshine.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 5 months ago

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Love is a Many-Legged Thing

Yandere Squid Merman x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, tentacle noncon, light tentacle bondage, stalking, kidnapping, squid-based merman, big slimy prehensile merman dick, reader fucked senseless, merman fantasizes about receiving oral sex, general yandere behavior, delusional yandere, voyeurism, exhibitionism Word Count: 2k (Happy MerMay!!!! I really hope you all love the fic, would have been done weeks ago had the ac not died. But still 40min left of MerMay! I wrote this fast without a beta reader so please forgive any mistakes! The name Onyk is a reference to Onykia Ingens, a deap sea squid with an astoundingly long dick.)

Seaspark Aquarium was a very unique establishment. Not only did it contain the usual attractions that an aquarium housed, the tide pools, the sharks, a seemingly unending variety of colorful fish and corals and nudibranchs, but it also housed transient merfolk. The aquarium was situated on a flat outcrop of rocky land. Via submerged tubes it granted access to a huge tank to the ocean and merfolk below.

The tank was absolutely massive and had many different areas including a reef, a seaweed forest, a beach, and even a secluded sea cave. There were underwater cameras in most of the areas that live streamed what was happening on screens for the humans. Though the sea cave feed was restricted to adults only since the merfolk sometimes mated there.

The aquarium was just as much an exhibit for the merpeople as it was for the humans, they had underwater screens that allowed them to view the humans at play and at the food court. They enjoyed seeing and even communicating with their terrestrial cousins. There were several areas where humans and merpeople could talk face to face or via the cameras. Many of them visited quite frequently and made friendships with regular customers and their favorite staff members.

You had been blessed with landing a really good job at Seaspark Aquarium. Though it was entirely because you were the cousin of the curator of the establishment. You did janitorial tasks, including sometimes scraping the tanks, and occasionally you had to provide food for an exhibit. Even though interacting with animals or merfolk was not a common part of your job, there was one squid-man who had become quite friendly with you. Onyk.

Most of the squid type mermen shied away from human interaction, and really the aquarium as a whole, but not Onyk. He had always been a frequent visitor. A knowledgeable observer might even say it seemed that he had been hoping to find something there. The first few times he had gone had been out of pure curiosity about humans after hearing tales about them his entire life. But after his first couple of visits he was enthralled. Everything about the land walkers amazed him.

And then he met you and felt his heart flutter every single time he looked upon you. He frequently tried to engage you in conversation whenever he could and was always watching you, though often it was in secret. Onyk cherished your chats with him, he found you so interesting, even more so than he found other humans. He loved seeing you go about your tasks, it made him think of you cleaning his home as his mate while he went and got food for the two of you.

Of course if you had any say, that would never happen. Onyk, for some reason you couldn't quite place, creeped you out. No, it wasn't the head of tentacles he had in place of hair, nor the dark purple tentacles he had from the waist down, it wasn't his smile that showed off his dangerously sharp teeth, or his cyan blue eyes. No, it wasn't anything physical, just a weird energy he seemed to give off. Like a hungry animal hunting its prey.

You tried to be nice to Onyk, though you always tried to keep conversations brief and hurry on to other tasks that would take you out of his reach. Unfortunately he took your awkward stammers and clumsy rushing to zip away from him as you being extremely shy because you liked him. He sighed and stared at you longingly, head resting on his hands, as you rushed off once more. Clearly you were simply too embarrassed by your emotions to act rationally around him. Onyk had to find a way to get you to stop running off. As adorable as it was that you kept scampering off from your shyness you really needed to be closer to him.

Onyk had a brilliant, though simple, idea. It came to him right as you were in the middle of making another excuse to run away from him while the two of you were chatting in the beach area. He'd simply grab you. It wasn't the first thing he'd normally do, but you were just too prone to running off. It was more than obvious you needed him to make a firm and forceful first move.

"Well uh... it was nice seeing you again Onyk... but um... I gotta go check on the tide p-"

Onyk lunged at you suddenly with the speed and ferocity of lightning. He pulled you into the water and swiftly took you into the empty sea cave and sat you on the dry ground within. Yes, this would do perfectly for his purposes. It was a huge room that had an area for him to swim and enough space for you to run about and get exercise. This would make a lovely home for the two of you, he'd have to keep all the other merfolk out from now on but that wasn't an issue, they were respectful of claimed territory.

Once you caught your breath you were confused and angry at the sudden relocation.

"What the f-"

He interrupted you again, this time by pressing his hungry lips to yours in a passionate embrace. His long tongue slipped past your unsuspecting lips and explored every inch that it could reach. His saliva pooled in your mouth, claiming it. The offending muscle snaked down your throat before finally retreating as he broke the kiss, you struggled to find your breath once more.

"Heh, sorry for interrupting, I have just been waiting to kiss you for so long I couldn't hold back any longer!"

“What!? Why did you do that? Why did you bring me here!?”

“Well your shyness was making it hard for us to take things to the next step in our relationship, now you can’t let your nervousness get the better of you and make you run off!”

“Next step in our relationship? We have no relationship, you creep!”

“Don’t say that! Y-you just have the jitters because moving in is such a big step! Yeah, they’ll wear off soon I’m sure.”

“There won’t be a soon, I am going back to the beach!”

You started to head back to the water, but Onyk closed the distance between the two of you easily.

“But you can’t go! You’re just in denial and nervous, but you’ll love living with me, I promise. M-maybe I’m not moving too fast but too slow. That must be it, you must be all pent up and eager for my dick! So naughty~”

Onyk’s blush was evident even on his light blue skin. He swallowed your complaints in another deep kiss as he stood behind you and rubbed your crotch gently.

“We’ll do it in front of these cameras so everyone knows you’re mine now~”

And, indeed, the screens in the adults only section of the aquarium definitely picked up some viewers as the scene between you and Onyk unfolded.

Most mermen would have had trouble traversing land, but Onyk’s strong tentacles allowed him to maneuver easily enough. He peeled off your wet clothing and wrapped his arms tightly around your bare chest, rubbing and caressing you with greedy hands. His prehensile cock wrapped partially around your waist, held you close as it rubbed against you. At first you mistook the sensation for a tentacle before looking down and seeing it, the cock was tapered, icy blue and glowing at the tip, with the rest of it being dark purple.

Your shouts and screams were ignored as Onyk convinced himself they were just you being grumpy or maybe playing hard to get. The merman’s sharp teeth bit carefully at your tender neck as you squirmed. Most of his tentacles had wrapped around your legs, powerful suction cups firmly adhered them to you. They held you staunchly in place despite your best efforts to struggle.

The remaining two writhing appendages were busy with another task. They gently prodded and massaged your tight hole, slowly worming their way inside you. Your efforts to clench and keep them outside of you were rendered futile as they finally worked their way inside of you. They began thrusting in tandem back and forth within you, loosening you up well.

Your next attempt at protesting devolves into several lusty moans as he ministrations begin to elicit pleasure. It’s all the confirmation he needs that he has been right all along and definitely went about everything in the right way.

“Your mating sounds are so lovely,” he said as he nipped at your ear.

His tentacles suddenly withdrew from your lovingly stretched hole, leaving you involuntarily whimpering at the sudden removal.

“Awe, don’t worry, love. I have something far better to put into you~”

You snap out of it when you hear those words and feel his cock move itself from your waist and start wiggling against you in search of its target.

“What!? No, please do-oooh~ Aaah!”

When it found your entrance it deftly slithered right in. Much to your unwilling pleasure.

Onyk chuckled.

“I knew you just needed some good dick~ You feel soooo good. You were made for this!”

When you happened to look up at one of the cameras you blushed and looked down. The room that monitored the sea cave was now packed, everyone enjoying the sight. The aquarium was already at work recording with plans to put it on their website for sale.

You couldn’t help the lewd cacophony of noises that tumbled from your mouth as the thick slimy cock thrust back and forth inside of you.

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!” Onyk chanted louder and louder until he slammed into you hard, filling you up with warm viscous semen at the same moment that you were shuddering from the strongest orgasm that you had ever experienced.

You were far too dazed and overstimulated to realize what was going on in that moment or what you were saying, but on autopilot you mumbled back what your brain thought it was supposed to when someone told you that they loved you.

“I l-love you too…”

Onyk was overjoyed to hear those words from his beloved human. He pulled out of you and laid down on the floor of the cave, pulling you close to him and resting your head on his chest. His webbed fingers gently caressed you as did both the tentacles that made up his "hair" and the ones below his waist. Cum slowly ebbed out of you and onto him but he didn't mind, the two of you would just get messy again the second you came to your senses. He nuzzled into your hair and gave you dozens of little kisses. Your mind was too blank and your body too exhausted to do anything but drool a bit on his chest while he cuddled you.

His head was swimming with all of the things the two of you would do together. Sharing meals, chatting, mating. He couldn’t wait to wrap his cock gently around your neck while at the same time plunging it down your throat and having that pretty mouth of yours suck it until he was feeding you his cum. Maybe the two of you could try it when you woke up.

Meanwhile onlookers on the viewing screens were putting away their cocks and slipping their fingers out of their pussies with the spectacle now over, but word soon spread and tourism was up over 300 percent! Scientists the world over were interested in documenting this rare species of merman having sexual relations with a human. Grants were given. A great raise and credit to your cousin, the curator.

It was even considered a diplomatic victory for merfolk and humans!

Everyone came to the consensus that on all fronts, but yours, it was far too beneficial and lucrative to make sure you had to permanently stay in the sea cave for the rest of your life with Onyk. At the very least they equipped the habitat with amenities like a proper bathroom, tv, video games, and human food. The sea cave area was also expanded, and you were afforded some privacy, except for most of the times that your “husband” Onyk was spilling his seed into you. That’s what people wanted to see.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #yandere mermay #yandere merman #yandere squidman #mermay #mermay 2024 #My OC Onyk

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thebiggerbear · 5 months ago

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no one's the new me

Summary: Soldier Boy is the OG Supe. You goad him into proving it and get more than you bargained for...or did you?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader

A/N: All unbeta'd. Thank you to @rieleatiel for the pre-read!

Warnings: smut; rough sex; language; implied breeding kink

Word Count: 846

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Soldier Boy Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @birdiellie; @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith; @muhahaha303; @just-levyy; @solacedthistest; @deansimpala; @foxyjwls007; @onlyangel-444

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

Strong hands tugged on your hair, forcing your head back and your body to arch, accommodating the brute force you were being fucked with. You could feel the aggression, the rage, that was being unleashed on you in response to your taunts earlier. Your words had been purposeful; you knew they would rile him up enough to throw caution to the wind and show you how wrong you were. It had been nearly three hours since he began teaching you to “respect your fucking elders.”

Your throat was sore, your ass bruised from hips brutally slamming into yours — plus you actually got spanked near the beginning because you were being a fucking brat — and your pussy was on fire. At least five orgasms had been out of your body so far, a new personal record for you, and yet you wouldn’t dream of stopping. Though you knew the man savagely pistoning in and out of you would, the second you said it.

That was just another thing that drew your desire to him the second he stepped out of that tube back in Russia: the control. You’d watched in fascination as he let loose a burst of energy that knocked The Female on her ass, yet you later found out she’d been fortunate after that same energy took out city blocks and one old, washed up, backstabbing Crimson Cunt. The minute you saw him emerge from the smoking wreckage of her trailer, his suit and shield completely intact, you knew he was so much more than a weapon for Butcher and his merry band of idiots to wield against Homelander.

He was the embodiment of raw power, a purity from being the first ever Supe mixed with whatever cocktail the Russians had given him.

You certainly could feel that power, the might and god-like strength that the body slamming into yours contained. If you weren’t experiencing the best fuck of your life right then, your eyes would have rolled back into your head and you would have orgasmed from the heady knowledge of that alone.

“Say it,” was growled menacingly into your ear.

You pressed your lips together to keep quiet. You knew that would only stoke the rage but that didn’t matter.

Fingers roughly gripped your chin and turned you to face the dark emerald gaze burning into yours, fury written all over his features. He stopped fucking you for a moment, only to deliver deep and harsh thrusts, his expression tightening with more anger the longer you refused to give in to his demand. You could feel your body starting to act of its own accord, the excitement rushing through you as fiery tingles began deep inside you, right near where he had been pummeling you a moment ago as a matter of fact. “Say it,” he commanded once more in a snarl.

The tingles radiated throughout your pelvic region and you started to feel a wave of sensations getting closer and closer to overwhelming every single inch of you. You reached up to grip his wrist, holding on tightly as your body began to shake.

He was merciless, though. He wanted you to have learned your lesson. “Fucking say it.”

“No one…” You struggled to get out the words, to keep eye contact even; the feelings overtaking your body were that intense. You let out an exhalation of a sound you had never made before. “No one’s the new you,” you panted, your jaw dropping in a silent cry as that wave became like wildfire, consuming you rapidly, your fingers finding purchase in his forearm.

A shark-like smile slowly spread across Soldier Boy’s face as he watched you alternate between squirming and tensing up. “That’s right. And don’t you fucking forget it.”

You could see that he was about to resume pounding into you and once he did, you would be lost to the intensity of the orgasm that was quickly coming to claim you. A scream was about to tear out of your chest when he pushed in deeply one last time, him clearly enjoying that he had you on that edge, about to go over it, and deciding to be a dick about it. So you managed to grab his face, forcing him to meet your eyes, and quickly said what you’d been waiting to tell him ever since you saw him in that fucking suit, wielding that big ass shield which served as more of a weapon than protection. “Except the son you’re going to fuck into me tonight.”

His smirk dropped and the burning emerald was back, possibly more ablaze than before, and his grip tightened on you almost to the point of pain. If you weren’t in the throes of the most mind-numbing orgasm of your life right then, you would have given him your own smirk, knowing exactly what was about to follow. You thought he had unleashed on you before, but once again, he was intent on showing you just how wrong you were. You had never been happier to be mistaken twice in one night.

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uzurakis · 6 months ago

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hi kiara! can you please make a continuation of “their act of intimacy” but with gojo, toji, and sukuna? i melted the first time i read them with the other characters 😭 hope you have a good day ahead of you ❤️

THEIR ACT OF INTIMACY?

featuring: gojo satoru. ryomen sukuna. toji fushiguro.

n. aaa thanku for liking the previous one! this is for you nonnie <3 didn’t really proofread cause i’m running late on sleep lol. PART ONE HERE :0

GOJO SATORU. gojo finds it calming when you both take a shower together. however, his notion of "calming" may differ from the ordinary. instead of drowsing in warm water and doing all those private things such as soaping his back and shampooing his hair, you and him sometimes have other spontaneous ideas in mind.

as the warm water cascaded down, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of closeness that's as comforting as it is exhilarating. satoru, with his irrepressible charm and mischievous grin, stood beside you, his presence filled the space with a playful energy.

"ah, feels like heaven," he sighed, whilst eyes gleaming with shenanigans. you chuckled, reaching for the shampoo. “don’t start a water fight again, satoru. let us enjoy a nice and relaxing—“

but before you could react, a splash of water hit you square in the face, causing you to sputter and laugh. “gotcha!" the man exclaimed, his laughter echoed through the tiled walls.

"it’s sooo on now!" you declared, retaliating with a splash of your own.

and just like that, the bathroom transformed into a battleground, with water flying in every direction as you both engaged in your playful antics. amidst the laughter and the splashing, there's an undeniable sense of joy that filled the room.

"careful, satoru," you warned, dodging his playful advances, "you're going to get soap in your eyes."

but he just grinned. "not before you get ‘em first, babe.”

and so, you guys continued your playful banter. soaked to the bone and grinning from ear to ear, gojo satoru defines his own calming moments with you.

RYOMEN SUKUNA. your boyfriend is a big guy, or so he believes before you swoop in and baby him. does he resist? yes. but will he eventually agree? absolutely.

the aroma of freshly cooked pasta filled the air as you stood in the kitchen. across the room, your boyfriend, sukuna, leaned against the counter, watching you with a bemused expression. you took a small portion with a spoon in hand, "say 'a' for me, sukuna.”

"hell nah.” his face was holding back the disgust. “you know, i can feed myself, right?"

"come on, baby, just one bite," you urged, eyes pleading. he hesitated for a moment, then sighed, giving in to you. “no—tsk, fine.”

“just this once.”

as he reluctantly opened his mouth, you couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the sight of him being spoon-fed like a child. your boyfriend’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he quickly swallowed the pasta, avoiding your gaze.

"see, that wasn't so bad, was it?" you teased, unable to contain your amusement.

he grumbled something unintelligible in response, but as you proceeded to feed him, he took every piece and never turned it down until the last bite.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. toji never declines your offer to groom him. he rarely takes attention to his appearance, whereas you insist on cleaning up him up and do it with your own hands. at first, he doesn't think of it as intimate thing because isn’t it just about cutting and shaving? but as time goes on, he understands how much you value him and treasures the time you spent solely on him.

the soft glow of evening light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm hue over the cozy living room. toji sat on the couch, his unkempt hair falling into his eyes. you watched him from afar with a fond smile tugging at your lips.

“toji,” you called out. “your hair has gotten longer than the last time i remember.” he chuckled softly, already accustomed to this routine. "is it that time again?"

with scissors and a comb in hand, you approached him with a smile. “c’mere, sit down, baby.”

letting a shrug plus a grin, the man complied, settling onto the stool you'd placed in the middle of the room. as you draped a towel around his shoulders, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

"you know, i understand why you enjoy doing this so much.” he admitted, leaning back as you began to comb through his hair.

"you know why?” you replied, your voice soft as you worked. "it's about taking care of each other, babe. showing love in the little things."

he fell silent at your words, mulling them over as you continued to trim away stray strands. gradually, the tension seemed to melt from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of ease and contentment.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

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samaraxmorgan · 3 months ago

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time His Older Brother Gave Him A Tarot Reading”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, pure fluff, reader is not present, Sukuna is pining hard

Word Count: 1.26k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna isn’t one to make time for his family. Although he has an identical twin brother who bothers him far too much for his liking and an older half brother, he almost never talks about them and spends even less time talking too them. But today he was feeling nice… which is strange for him, but regardless, he decided to agree to come by his brothers’ apartment.

And was quickly reminded of why he never comes over.

Sukuna was seated on the antique couch while Choso kneeled in front of the coffee table between them, flickering candles on every surface bathing the living room in a soft warm glow and reflecting on the shiny surfaces of the crystals placed meticulously all over the table. Choso opened up a small black box, pulling intricately designed tarot cards from inside and fanning them between his fingers before spreading them face down across the table.

Sukuna really was trying not to roll his eyes at the whole ordeal, but the man can only take so much before he’s bound to cave, “This is so stupid.”

“Shh…” Choso leans forward and presses his finger over Sukuna’s lips.

“Don’t touch me.” He grumbles.

“Shut up,” Choso loses his calm demeanor for only a second before he’s closing his eyes again, “I’m focusing.”

“On what?”

“I’m tuning in…” He wiggles his fingers over the cards, “to the energies.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Sukuna rubs his temples, “When did you start doing this witchcraft shit again?”

“Not witchcraft,” Choso peeks one eye open to shoot a quick glare at his brother, “And yesterday.”

“Oh you’re a real professional huh?” He smirks down at him.

“Sukuna,” His shoulders slump and he lets out a frustrated huff, “Just, fucking shut up.”

The two of them squint as the lights suddenly flick on, Yuuji not quite getting the memo of what’s going on downstairs as he leans his head over the stair railing to peek into the living room, “Ooh, how’s the satanic ritual going?” He calls out from the stairway.

“Yuuji!” The two of them call out in unison. He lets out a little “Oops” and flicks the light back off, running back to his room upstairs.

Choso rubs his eyes, smudging his eyeliner onto his fingers, “Okay just, pick a card.”

Sukuna huffs out an annoyed breath, reaching forward and tapping his pointer finger on one of the cards in the middle. Choso slides the card down in front of Sukuna and flips it over, revealing an upside down picture of a man sitting upright in a bed with his head in his hands and swords neatly stacked on the wall behind him.

“Oh, interesting.” Choso mumbles.

“The fuck is he crying about?” Sukuna leans down and squints at the card on the table, “It’s upside down.”

“It’s reversed,” Choso clarifies, “The nine of swords reversed.”

“Choso, I don’t know what the hell that means.”

The long haired man sits up a little straighter, pointing at the card with a manicured finger, “This first card is your past. The next will be the present, and the last will be your future.” He picks the card up and scans it carefully, “You were… struggling, alone, not one to talk to others even when you need to-“

“What is this fuckin’ therapy?”

Choso groans and rolls his eyes, “God knows you need it, but no. Anyway,” He clears his throat, “You were in a downward spiral, but this is past tense, clearly you’re more open now considering,” He gestures vaguely around the room, “Well, you’re here for once.”

Sukuna is visibly annoyed, not a fan of being picked and prodded at. Choso places the card back down on the table, gesturing for Sukuna to pick another one, which to Choso’s surprise and for Sukuna’s morbid curiosity, he does; tapping his finger on a card pushed to the side of the table.

Choso flips the card over, and once again, it's upside down. It pictures a man sitting cross crossed in front of a tree, three golden goblets on the grass in front of him and a fourth being given to him from a disembodied hand floating next to him.

He’s really fuckin’ bad at organizing his cards.

Choso’s gaze flickers between Sukuna and the card, his brows furrowed in thought so clearly that you could almost see cogs turning behind his eyes, “Four of cups… reversed.”

“The hell does reversed mean?”

“It’s usually a negative version of the card’s meaning.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Oh fuckin’ lovely.”

Choso props his elbow onto the table, tracing the outline of the card with his finger, “You’re withdrawing-“

“Well yeah. No shit,” Sukuna cuts him off, “You’re telling me I’m cursed. What’s the damn card mean?”

“That is what the card means, idiot. You’re reluctant to open up to someone.”

Sukuna leans back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, “Who?”

“I don’t know,” Choso shrugs, “Maybe the future card will clarify.”

“Absolutely not.” He huffs. Choso looks up at him with confusion, “I told you this was stupid, I’m not picking another.”

The light flicks on once again, Sukuna groans at the sound of Yuuji’s voice yelling from the stairway, “Sounds like someone’s a fucking pussy!”

“Yuuji, quit eavesdropping or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes out.”

The light flicks back off.

Choso looks up at Sukuna expectantly, and after glaring down at him for a moment he breaks, rolling his eyes and flipping over a random card, “If it’s upside down I swear to fucking god-“

“Oh shit!”

“What?” Sukuna sounds almost startled, looking down at the card he sees that this one is upright; picturing a naked man and woman standing in front of some kind of angel. But he’s quickly able to gather the most damning part of the card.

The bottom of the card says “The Lovers.”

“Oh fuck off.”

A smile spreads across Choso’s face, “I don’t think I need to explain this one to you. And it’s not upside down.”

“Reversed.” Sukuna mockingly clarifies.

“Shut up,” Choso leans forward, grin still plastered on his lips, “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody, this shit isn’t real.” Sukuna scowls, but deep down he’s glad the room is so dark to hide the tint in his cheeks.

It’s not fucking real idiot. Stop it.

“How about this,” Choso clasps his hands together, looking up towards the ceiling, “If this shit is real, give us a sign.”

Yuuji flickers the lights.

“No! Stop interfering, this is serious!” Choso yells out towards the stairway.

But Sukuna’s blood runs cold as his phone buzzes in his pocket, quiet enough that no one could hear, but he could feel it.

It’s not real.

The room is silent for a moment as Choso scans for any type of sign, but it’s as if the world had completely stopped turning, not even the candles were flickering. Choso plops his head onto the coffee table, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t know why I thought that would work.”

“Mhm.” Sukuna hums, putting up a disinterested front as he pulls his phone from his pocket, “Can we watch a movie or something now like a normal family?”

Choso defeatedly blows out the candles, collecting his crystals and placing his tarot cards neatly back into the box, “Fine, fine, but I still think it’s real.”

Sukuna’s heart nearly stops beating when he unlocks his phone and sees a text from you, “If u leave dirty dishes in the sink one more time I’m actually gonna kill u in your sleep.”

God I hope it’s fucking real.

A/N: Family bonding time has never been so awkward, anyway here’s that time Sukuna started to believe in magic, or witchcraft, or anything if it means you like him as much as he likes you. Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

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mythicalmaven · 2 months ago

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Extraordinary - Oscar Piastri (ONE SHOT)

masterlist

Here is a little extra upload to celebrate Oscar's second F1 Grand Prix win! :) So enjoy is a post Azerbaijan GP celebration smut! Let me know what you think of it & let me know if you want a sequel to this!

↳pairing: oscar piastri x female!reader ↳word count: 3K ↳warnings: smut, 18+ content (MDNI!), handjob (m! eceiving), oral sex (m!receiving), feelings, kissing, praising, explicit sexual content, childhood best friends to lovers, making out, first kiss,

↳summary: Oscar just won the Azerbaijan GP. You, his childhood best friend & the one he secretly has been in love with for years, have always been by his side. Every race you attended ended with the same ritual; hugging, talking, and sharing the post-race high in a purely platonic way, both trying to ignore your feelings. But today felt different. His win stirred something in you, the urge to make him feel good overwhelmed you, your feelings too strong to contain any longer.

Credits for the gif to: @princemick

Oscar had just won his second Formula 1 race, and the energy in the paddock was electric. The cheers, the celebration, and the pride that radiated from his team made everything feel larger than life. But all of that faded the moment he stepped into his driver's room and saw you.

Like always, you were there waiting for him, the one constant in all the chaos. It had become something of a ritual between the two of you when you attended his races—a hug, a shared conversation, and time spent basking in the post-race high. But today felt different. The intensity in the air between you was thick, palpable in a way it hadn't been before.

As soon as he stepped into the room, his eyes found yours, and you couldn’t help but admire how good he looked — flushed with adrenaline, glowing from his second win in Formula 1. He was more than just your best friend at that moment; he was a man who had just conquered the track, and the sight of him like this stirred something deep within you.

He came to you for that familiar embrace, but when his arms wrapped around you, something shifted. There was a heat in his touch that you hadn't noticed before, or perhaps, had refused to acknowledge. The feel of his racing suit, tied loosely around his hips, the way his body pressed against yours—it was all too much. And when you pulled back, your hand didn't leave his abdomen. Instead, it hovered just above the waistband of his fireproofs, your fingers playing with the fabric. A gesture that felt as natural as it was intimate.

"Oscar Piastri," you purred, unable to help the words that spilled from your lips, "two-time F1 winner. Look at you, all grown up..."

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with pride and something else—something that made your heart skip. "You sound surprised" he teased, though his voice was a little rougher than usual, the hint of nerves and excitement betraying him. “Didn’t think I had it in me?”

You let your fingers trail along his abdomen, just brushing the hem of his fireproofs. “Oh, I knew you had it in you,” you said, your voice lowering as you allowed yourself to finally cross that invisible line. “I just didn’t realize how… hot it would look on you.”

His breath hitched at your words, and he pulled back just enough to look down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “You… you think I look hot?” he asked, his voice ragged, almost disbelieving, the hint of nerves and excitement betraying him.

You felt emboldened by his response, your pulse quickening with adrenaline. As you nodded at him, your fingers slipped under the hem of his fireproofs, teasing his skin, noticing the way his breath hitched, his body reacting instinctively to your touch. Slowly, you began to peel up his fireproofs, revealing more of his skin inch by inch, savoring the way his muscles tensed beneath your fingers.

“You deserve a reward,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “For being such a champion.”

Oscar’s eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a ragged breath, the weight of your words sinking in. “A reward?” he asked, his voice strained as he tried to keep his composure, though you could tell he was unraveling beneath your touch.

You nodded, gently crowding him back against the door, your body pressing closer to his. His breath came in shallow gasps, and you could see the conflict in his eyes—excitement and nerves coalescing into something overwhelming.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, his voice shaking, though his hands didn’t move from your waist.

“Rewarding you, like I said,” you replied, your voice sultry and full of promise.

Your fingers continued to explore, tracing the muscles of his abs under the fabric of his fireproofs. Oscar’s breath became uneven, his body responding to each touch, every soft graze of your fingertips. The heat between you was palpable as your hand slowly moved lower, teasing at the waistband of his race suit, brushing over his skin.

You carefully made your way to the sleeves that tied his race suit loosely around his hips. You untied the knot of his race suit, taking your time, savoring each second of anticipation. His eyes were locked on yours, the tension building as your hand slipped inside his now open suit, palm pressing against him through the fabric of his boxers. Oscar’s breath caught in his throat, a soft groan escaping him as you began to palm him gently, feeling him harden beneath your touch.

“Tell me if you want me to stop” you whispered softly.

His body reacted instinctively, his hips shifting slightly toward you, but he was still, letting you set the pace. Your hand slid further inside his race suit, fingers caressing him through the fabric of his boxers. His breath hitched again, and his grip on your waist tightened, the tension in his body unmistakable.

“God… you have no idea how good this feels,” he whispered, voice shaky as you continued teasing him through the material. His eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure already overtaking him as you finally slipped your hand inside his boxers, your fingers wrapping around him. His entire body tensed, and a low groan escaped his lips again as you stroked him gently, savoring every response, every tremble that coursed through him.

His hand found your hair, his grip tightening slightly as he struggled to hold himself together. “Fuck… you’re so good,” he moaned, his voice barely more than a whisper, his head tilting back, eyes closed in pure bliss. “So fucking good.”

You smiled up at him, continuing your slow, deliberate movements, relishing the way his body responded to your touch. After a few moments of building that delicious tension, you paused, your voice soft and sultry as you asked, “Can I take this off?”

Oscar’s eyes snapped open, and he looked down at you, his expression filled with desperate need. “God, yes,” he rasped, almost a plea.

With a soft smile, you began to sink to your knees, pressing gentle kisses down his abdomen as you slid his race suit and boxers down to his ankles. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as you kissed your way lower, teasing him with your lips and tongue.

Oscar’s breath became shallow, his body trembling with anticipation. His hands found their way into your hair again, his fingers tangling as you knelt in front of him.

You smiled up at him, your fingers wrapping around him again, moving in slow, teasing strokes as you watched him fall apart. His reaction fueled your own desire, and you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful he looked like this — vulnerable and completely overwhelmed by you.

“You have no idea how often I’ve thought about this,” he whispered, his voice raw and full of need. “How many times I’ve imagined you… like this.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his skin, testing his responsiveness as you trailed soft kisses around thighs and hips, purposefully avoiding his dick to make him want you even more. Each kiss sending a shiver through him, his body responding to every touch.

“You’ve always been my champion,” you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his hipbone. “It’s time I show you just how much I’ve been rooting for you.”

His breath hitched when you gently licked a stripe up his shaft, your movements slow and teasing. Oscar’s reaction was immediate—his body jerked, and he let out a loud, desperate moan, his voice filled with disbelief. “Oh God… I didn’t think…” He struggled to form words, caught completely off-guard by the intensity of it all.

You smirked, Oscar’s erection still hot against your lips as continued to tease him, your lips brushing against him, your tongue trailing along his length with agonizing slowness. Every movement made him tremble, his hips bucking slightly as you finally took him into your mouth. The moment you did, his entire body tensed, and he let out a whimpering moan, his voice shaky and full of need.

“God, you’re… f-fuck,” he stammered, barely able to form the words as his head tilted back against the door, eyes closed in pure bliss. “You’re… you’re incredible.”

You could feel the tension building in him, his muscles clenching as he tried to hold on. His hands tightened in your hair, as if to stop you from pushing him over the edge too soon. He was fighting himself, every part of him desperate for release, but struggling to prolong the pleasure.

“Fuck… I can’t… you’re driving me insane,” he moaned, his voice barely coherent. “I… I can’t hold back.”

You hummed around him, your tongue teasing and swirling as you took him deeper, savoring the way he reacted to every movement. His hands tightened in your hair, his hips bucking slightly as you set a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Y-you’re gonna make me—” Oscar’s voice was strained, his words interrupted by a broken moan as he tried to hold himself back. “I-I don’t want this to end… not yet.”

You paused, pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. His chest was heaving, and his eyes were glazed with pleasure, but you could see the way he was holding on by a thread.

“You don’t have to hold back,” you whispered, your voice soothing. “But I can go slow… take my time with you.”

Oscar nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to catch his breath. “P-please,” he whispered, his voice almost a plea. “I… I want this… I need this.”

You smiled up at him, your lips still teasing him, your hand continuing to stroke him gently, while your mouth was taking a break to give him some time to recover.

Oscar smiled back at you and you took that as a sign to continue. This time, you moved slower, your hand working in tandem with your mouth, teasing him, building him up again as his body trembled beneath you.

Every sound he made, every gasp and moan, sent a thrill through you. You loved seeing him like this, completely undone by your touch, and you couldn’t resist the urge to push him further, to make him feel every bit of the pleasure he deserved.

You paused for just a second, looking up at him briefly “You’re doing so well, Oscar,” you whispered, your voice filled with praise. “You’ve worked so hard for this… you’ve earned it.”

Oscar’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath catching in his throat as he was caught off guard by your words. The intensity of his arousal spiked even higher, his body reacting instinctively. He had to clench every muscle in his body to not cum right then and there “God, no,” he moaned, his voice strained and urgent. “You can’t say things like that. It makes it so much harder to hold back. It’s making it worse...”

“Maybe that’s the point” you sassed, a smug, satisfied grin tugging at your lips as you continued to tease him. Your tongue flicked over him with purpose, taking pleasure in watching him lose control. Every gasp and moan he made sent a thrill through you, fueling your desire as you reveled in the way he was unraveling under your touch.

Oscar’s breath hitched again, his hands trembling as they gripped your hair tighter. “Fuck, I-I… you’re driving me crazy,” he moaned, his voice barely coherent. “Y-you’re… amazing.”

As you continued to pleasure him, you felt him getting closer, his body tensing as he neared the edge. His hips bucked against you, and his moans grew louder, more desperate.

“I can’t… I-I can’t hold on much longer,” he gasped, his voice breaking with need. “I’m… f-fuck, I’m so close…”

"Then don't hold back, Osc." you whispered, looking up at him "Let go for me"

You increased the pressure, taking him deeper, your mouth and hand working in perfect unison as you pushed him closer to his release. Oscar’s entire body shook, and with a final, shuddering breath, he came undone, his moans loud and raw as pleasure surged through him.

You kept going, guiding him through his climax, savoring every second of his release until he finally collapsed back against the door, completely spent. His chest was heaving, and his eyes fluttered open, still glazed with satisfaction and awe.

“God… that was…” he breathed, his voice ragged as he looked down at you with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. “You’re… you’re incredible.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction wash over you. “You deserved every second of that,” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with affection. “You’re a winner, Oscar. And winners deserve rewards.”

When Oscar seemed to have come down from his high, you gently pulled up his boxers, carefully tucking him back inside. You then followed with his race suit, using the sleeves to tie it around his hips. While you were busy tying the knot, you looked up at him “I figured, since I was the one who undressed you, I might as well help you get dressed again" you chuckled at him "I know you'll take them off again when you go shower, but I assumed the walk towards the bathroom would be a little less complicated when you don't have your suit pooling around his ankles"

Oscar let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch his breath. “You just sucked my dick less than a minute ago and we're already back on the witty remarks" God, I love you, he thought

You laughed at him, still on your knees, smacking him softly against his now clothes thigh “Oi, don't act like you don't love it” you grinned.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his hands gently brushing through your hair. “But I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Before you could even react, Oscar pulled you up to your feet, his movements fluid and confident. In a heartbeat, he had flipped your positions, pressing your back against the door with a soft, welcoming thud. His hand rested possessively on your waist, the warmth of his touch radiating through you, while his other hand gently cupped your jaw. His thumb traced tender circles over your cheek, a silent promise of the passion yet to come. His gaze, intense and hungry, searched yours, as if looking for confirmation before closing the distance between you.

You subconsciously leaned into Oscar, his breath mingling with yours, warm and inviting, heightening the anticipation between you. You could feel the heat of his anticipation, the unspoken yearning that had built up over the years.

"I should have done this a long time ago" he whispered before finally closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

When his lips finally met yours, you felt a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. It was a feather-light touch that seemed to savor the moment, the initial contact was so soft and exploratory, a gentle caress that spoke of the affection and longing you both had kept hidden. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate tenderness, each kiss a silent confession of his desire.

Oscar’s hand on your waist slid up slightly, his fingers tracing the curve of your ribs, while his other hand, still cradling your jaw, moved with equal care. He gently caressed the side of your neck with his thumb, his touch tender and reverent. The intimacy of his touch made your breath hitch, the anticipation building as his lips pressed more firmly against yours.

Gradually, the kiss deepened, and you felt the shift in intensity. He began to explore your lips with more purpose, his movements gentle yet insistent. A soft, teasing lick against your lower lip was his way of asking for entrance, a delicate and almost shy request that spoke volumes. The sensation of his warm, wet tongue against your skin made you shiver, heightening the tension between you.

When his tongue finally ventured into the kiss, it was a revelation. The initial touch was delicate, a tentative exploration that soon turned into a deeper, more passionate rhythm. His tongue slid against yours with a slow, deliberate grace, teasing and tracing patterns that spoke of the years of unspoken desire. Each movement was filled with intent, each caress a testament to the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss became an intricate dance of sensation, blending the softness of his lips with the boldness of his tongue, creating a connection that was as emotionally charged as it was physically intense.

Oscar’s fingers trailed their way up from your back, towards your shoulder, eventually tangling in your hair, his touch both possessive and tender. His hand that was on your jaw now slid gently to your neck, his fingers tracing a path of fire against your skin. The sensation was electrifying, a delicate contrast to the fervor of his kiss. His thumb rested on your cheek, brushing softly as if to reassure himself that this moment was real.

Oscar’s other hand drifted down from your hair to your neck, his touch as light as a whisper but filled with an undeniable intensity. He traced delicate patterns on your skin, his fingers lingering on the curve of your collarbone before sliding back up to gently cradle the nape of your neck. The sensation of his touch, combined with the softness of his lips, created a symphony of sensations that left you breathless.

Oscar pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, barely-there caress. His eyes, dark with passion, searched yours for a moment before resting his forehead against yours. The both of you completely out of breath.

"Wow" you puffed out, still trying to catch your breath "T-That.. -That was extraordinary"

Oscar chuckles at you, a smile covering his face. The relief and happiness in his face evident. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and says "You are extraordinary"

#f1 fanfic #smut #formula 1 #friends to lovers #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #formula 1 smut #mclaren #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #op81 #oscar piastri imagine #formula one #azerbaijan gp 2024

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