#Show ‘Em (What You’re Made Of)
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soleilapproves · 4 months ago
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Boxer!Sukuna who makes you kiss his gloves before his match for good luck.
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His team had left the locker room and it was just the two of you now. You were sitting on a bench while he organized his bag. “I didn’t know you got so many freebies from your sponsorships.” In your hand, was a brand new boxing shoe that he received from UnderArmor for a sports shoot campaign.
“Eh, they’re not really what I need in the actual matches but I use them during training cause I don’t wanna waste ‘em,” he mumbled. He seemed to be more on edge than usual. During his last match, he lost by a landslide, having a sour taste in his mouth from the experience. He blamed you because you weren’t there to kiss his glove prior to the match.
You turn to look at him staring down at his gloves.
“Sukuna.”
“Yeah?” He turned to look at you. No smiles, just a deadpan expression. You walked towards him and held his face in your hands. You could tell he was nervous about the fight even though he had won so many before.
“Honey, what’s on your mind?” Your voice was sincere and comforting for him. “What if I’m in a slump? My last match was so bad. I’ve never lost like that. What if I’m on a losing streak now?”
You get on your tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Sukuna, you’ve worked hard have you not?” He nods. “And you feel like you’ve trained well this time.” He nods again. “Then why are you so worried? Is it because you were distracted last time?”
He sighs and wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck in the process. “Look, I don’t know if you think it’s weird but when I see you outside the ring, I feel like I have a reason to win. It drives me to fight better. I had a really shitty day last time and when I didn’t see you I just didn’t feel like giving my all.”
Your heart felt like it was being torn to pieces after seeing your husband sulk. “I just felt burnt out. I was hoping that once I saw you then I’d feel better.”
You hugged him tighter and kissed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sukuna, I promise I’ll never do that again.” You start rubbing your hand up and down his back in hopes to calm him down right before his match.
“Kiss my gloves for me?” he asks as he pulls away. You nod. He takes his boxing gloves out and places them in your hands. You leave a delicate kiss on each of them, your gloss leaving a small sparkly stain. He takes them from your hand and kisses them on the same spots as you did, maintaining eye contact with you throughout. “You’re my good luck charm, you know that?” he says as he strokes your head.
You show him a teethy grin and nod.
“And you’re mine.” Your reply made him smash his lips to yours. “I’ll be sure to win now that you’re here.” He mumbled against your lips.
No thoughts. Just boxer!sukuna
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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 4 days ago
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✧. 🐍 TITS, ASS OR THIGHS?
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If Zayne and Caleb had to choose, it would be thighs—every damn time.
Caleb was the type to act casual about it, but the way his hands never left your thighs told a different story. Sitting next to him? His fingers would be tracing idle circles against your skin, squeezing just enough to make you shift in place. Laying in bed? He’d have his head resting on them, kissing the soft flesh like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. But it was when you were wrapped around him, legs locked tight around his waist, that his obsession really showed.
“Fuck, pipsqueak,” he’d groan, grinding deep into your pussy as his cock throbbed inside you. “You tryin’ to trap me here? Keep me buried in this pretty cunt?” His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, holding them open so he could watch himself slide in and out of your soaked heat. Every thrust had him panting, gaze flicking down to where his cock stretched you, glistening with your slick. “Shit—these thighs, baby. I could cum just from feeling ‘em squeeze me like this.”
Zayne, on the other hand, didn’t just love your thighs—he was fucking obsessed with them. He'd never admit it outright, but the way he grabbed, bit, and marked them told you everything you needed to know. If you so much as tried to close them around him, he'd slap them apart with a sharp smirk, watching you jolt.
“You think you get to keep these from me?” he’d sneer, his cock already pressing against your dripping slit. He’d spread your thighs wide, staring at your clit twitching with need before dragging the thick head of his cock along it, teasing. “Nah, sweetheart. These thighs are mine.” And when he finally slammed into you, he’d growl at the way they quivered, his fingers bruising your soft flesh. “Fuck—look at ‘em, shaking already. You like this? You like when I use your thighs to keep you nice and open for me?”
Caleb worshipped them. Zayne ruined them. And both of them made sure they were covered in cum by the time they were done.
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If Xavier and Rafayel had to choose, it would be ass—no hesitation.
Xavier acted like he didn’t have a preference, like he was too composed to be caught up in something so simple. But the second you turned around? His sharp blue eyes were locked on your ass, jaw tightening like he was barely holding himself back. And when he had you beneath him, pressed into the mattress, he didn’t bother pretending anymore.
“Look at this,” he muttered, gripping the plush curve of your ass with both hands, spreading you open just to watch your pussy clench around nothing. “Bet you love teasing me with this—walking around like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.” His cock was already leaking, thick and aching as he dragged it against your soaked slit, teasing your clit before pushing in slow. His grip tightened as you arched, forcing you to stay in place while he sank in to the hilt. “Yeah… this is what you wanted, huh?” His voice was low, smug, but his fingers trembled where they dug into your flesh. “Wanted me to fuck you so deep you feel me in your stomach?”
Rafayel was the opposite—he didn’t bother hiding how obsessed he was. The moment he got his hands on your ass, he was squeezing, grabbing, leaving marks with his nails and teeth. He’d groan every time you rode him, watching the way your ass bounced with each drop of your hips. But what really drove him insane was taking you from behind, one big hand pressing down on the small of your back, the other kneading your ass like he couldn’t get enough.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, slamming his cock into your soaked pussy, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. “Shit—this ass was made for me.” His fingers spread you wider, watching the way his cock disappeared inside you, coated in slick. "Gonna fill you up—gonna make you cum just from me using you like this." His thrusts turned rougher, desperate, and he groaned when your walls clenched tight. “Yeah, that’s it—fuck, you’re gonna make me cum all over this pretty ass, aren’t you?”
Xavier liked to tease. Rafayel liked to claim. Either way, your ass was theirs, and they made sure you knew it.
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If Sylus had to choose, it would be tits—without question.
From the moment his hands first cupped them, Sylus was hooked. He wasn’t shy about it either—whenever he had the chance, his palms were kneading, thumbs teasing over your nipples just to see you shiver. He loved how soft they felt against his calloused fingers, how they looked when they were spilling out of your clothes, how your breath hitched when he kissed down your neck and nipped at the sensitive skin. But what really drove him insane? Having them pressed against his face, his mouth worshiping every inch.
“Fuck,” he groaned, lips already wrapping around a hardened nipple, sucking slow and deep while his other hand massaged the plush curve of your breast. “So fucking perfect—made just for me, huh?” His cock was already hard, throbbing against your slick heat, but he was too lost in the way your body arched for him, the way your clit twitched when he rolled a nipple between his fingers. “Look at you,” he murmured, breaking away just enough to admire the way your tits bounced with every needy grind of your hips. “You like this, don't you? Letting me suck on you while I stretch this pussy open?”
When he finally pushed inside, he groaned at the way your walls squeezed him, your body trembling as he filled you. His mouth went straight back to your tits, licking and sucking like he was desperate, his pace slow but deep, making sure every thrust rubbed against that perfect spot inside you. “Fuck—gonna make you cum just from this,” he muttered, voice rough as his cock dragged against your clit with every grind. “Gonna fill you up, have you milking my cock while I suck these pretty tits dry.”
Sylus didn't just love your tits—he worshiped them. And he made damn sure you knew it.
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lostalioth · 6 months ago
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𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫
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→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.
→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader
→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.
→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.
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Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.
You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.
“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.
You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.
“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.
“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.
“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.
“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.
“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.
That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.
“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.
Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.
“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.
With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.
You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.
“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.
A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.
He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.
“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.
“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.
“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.
Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.
“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.
Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.
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→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN
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szasfuckingwife · 7 months ago
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basketballer!Gojo who knew you from college. You often showed up to his games with your friend (who liked Suguru) and just, in the most uncreepy way possible , stare at him.
basketballer!Gojo who stayed in contact with you even when he went pro. The blinding lights of fame didn’t blur his deep attraction and fondness of you. Even on his least busiest day, which was still pretty busy, he made time for you.
‘Morning, my love…your smile lightens the world and my heart, love G.S’
You smile at the note that was amongst the several bouquets of red roses, your fave.
basketballer!Gojo who made sure he returned to you every night. Unlike his teammates, he wasn’t the type to go clubbing or anything similar. He was just a guy, obsessed with playing basketball and his girlfriend.
“Fuckin’ love you, Y/N…” He breathes into your ear. After a very deserved win, he made sure to let you know how much he appreciated your support. A string of whimpers left your mouth as his dick slid in and out of you. “Always so good for me, baby..”
basketballer!Gojo who, for some reason, gets a little jealous when you steal some of his spotlight. Maybe it was just an ego thing. He was fine at first when it came to you being called ‘WAG of the season’ after sporting some cute outfits. But then when magazines and publishers hit you up, something shifted.
It was no longer Satoru Gojo and his girlfriend. But now Y/N L/N and…what’s-his-face..?
basketballer!Gojo who you no longer recognised after a heated argument.
“You know, this is so predictable. I supported you since we were in college and the one time something good goes for me, you bitch and complain!”, you yell him, your index finger was firm against his chest. “It pisses me off, Gojo. I’m done.”
He scoffs, “I just think it’s too much. The red carpets and shit, I don’t get it.”
“You don’t get it because you’re used to me being just your stay at home girlfriend. Things change!” You release your own scoff to his response.
“Maybe I liked it that way because you had time for me-”
“But you never had time for me!”
basketballer!Gojo who has no comment to reporters when asked about the ‘break up rumours ‘with long term girlfriend, Y/N. But behind the scenes, he’s yearning for your forgiveness. He’s constantly at Suguru and your best friend’s house, hoping he’ll bump into you but you were never there.
it wasn’t until the season’s final where Satoru’s team were up against the undefeated (3 years in a row) champions. He was definitely shitting himself. As team captain, he was physically present, but not mentally.
But when he walked out and saw you in the crowd wearing his jersey, he suddenly felt calm. Were you attracting all the cameras? Yes. Were you dragging attention away from the game? At times, yes. But did he mind? No. For you were there for him. Even when you hated his guts.
basketballer!Gojo who fucks you like it’s his last night with you after his team won the finals. You can’t even remember how many times you’ve came but Satoru wasn’t gonna let you go.
“Toru-hnnnggghhh..! It’s too much!” You cry out real tears as he fucks up into you. He bites your shoulder, he wanted to be so close to you after so many separated nights.
“I’ve missed this body, I’ve missed you so much, baby. You have no clue…” He growls.
basketballer!Gojo who has the biggest grin on his face when paparazzi swarm him, asking about his engagement with Y/N. Truth be told, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he popped the question.
“Satoru, what’s next for you and Y/N?” A reporter asked.
“Babies. Lot’s of ‘em.” He smugly replies.
You’ll defo punish him for that comment.
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criminalamnesia · 1 year ago
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that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.
love your writing btw!
thank you! here’s part two :)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
you were beginning to hate the infirmary.
the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.
the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.
your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.
you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.
his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.
you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.
fuck him and his apologies.
you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.
it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.
he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.
“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.
“can we talk? please?”
you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.
he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.
“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.
“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.
“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”
silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.
“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.
“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.
simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.
simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.
“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”
he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.
he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.
your voice is full of venom as you speak.
“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”
price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?
to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.
“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”
the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.
he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.
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after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.
but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.
you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.
but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.
price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.
simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.
there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.
he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?
simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.
and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.
he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.
he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.
he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?
you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.
so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.
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a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.
you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.
the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.
how do you let something like this go?
you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.
once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.
so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.
you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.
you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.
time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.
now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.
you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.
“come in!” price called from inside.
you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.
your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.
and then you noticed simon.
he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.
the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.
you quickly turned your attention back to price.
“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.
“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.
the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.
“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.
“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”
the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.
“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.
he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.
“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”
you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.
“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”
you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?
you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.
“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”
with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.
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author’s note:
apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)
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svtiddiess · 2 months ago
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Show 'Em How It's Done
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Synopsis: Everyone assumes Mingyu is the submissive one when it comes to bedroom activities, so he proves them wrong.
Pairing: non-idol!Mingyu x afab!reader
Genre: smut, oneshot, established relationship, non-idol! au
Rating: mature
Word count: 2.6k
Warnings: penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, semi-public sex, exhibitionism? (they're in a different room but can still be heard), dom!Mingyu, big dick!Mingyu, lemme know if I missed anything!
Note: This was requested! I hope you enjoy it!
Thank you so much to @seokgyuu and @okiedokrie for beta reading!
Click here to join my taglist!
Read on ao3
Reblogs are appreciated ♡
.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ
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Your eyes light up as you see the cabin you're staying for the weekend come into view. Mingyu, your boyfriend, had planned this trip with his friend group—a much-needed escape to the woods. Thanks to Seungcheol's generous use of his credit card, they managed to rent a spacious and stunning cabin tucked away in nature.
At first, you assumed Mingyu wanted a boys-only weekend, but to your surprise, he was adamant that you join them. Despite your repeated refusals, he insisted this was the perfect chance for you to finally meet and get to know his closest friends. He also claimed that he'd be extremely sad and lonely if he spent an entire two days without you, a reason that made you snort. Eventually, you gave in, and Mingyu’s excitement over your agreement was downright infectious.
After a gruelling four-hour drive, you sigh and stretch, glad to finally move your stiff limbs. Your gaze shifts to Mingyu, who’s focused on reverse parking with one hand resting on the back of your seat. Your cheeks heat up—it’s ridiculous how even after six months together, he still makes your heart flutter over something so simple. But really, who could blame you? It's not your fault your boyfriend is so hot.
"Thanks for driving, my Mingoo," you say with a smile, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.
"You missed," he pouts, tapping his lips with his finger.
Laughing, you lean in for a quick peck, but before you can pull away, Mingyu places a hand on the back of your head and deepens the kiss. A surprised squeak escapes you, followed by soft giggles against his lips.
"Did you really think I’d let you off the hook with that weak excuse of a kiss?" He teases, his grin playful.
"You’re such a baby," you huff, rolling your eyes.
"Your baby," he counters smugly.
Still chuckling, you climb out of the car and stretch again as Mingyu unloads your luggage. Your jaw drops as you take in the sight of the large cabin before you. It’s impressive—definitely worth thanking Seungcheol for later.
"Looks like some of them are already here," Mingyu says, nodding toward the other cars parked nearby.
Suddenly, the realisation hits that you’ll be meeting most of his friends for the first time, and nerves start to bubble up. You’ve met Seungcheol and Wonwoo before, but this will be your first encounter with the entire group. Mingyu has been close with them since high school, and despite going their separate ways for college and work, their bond has remained rock-solid.
Sensing your unease, Mingyu sets down the bags and walks over to you. He takes your hand, his touch steady and comforting, and flashes you a reassuring smile.
"Don’t stress, babe. They’re going to love you. I promise," he says softly.
"But what if I embarrass myself? What if the first impression I give them is of me being a total idiot?" you groan, your palms growing clammy.
Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head. "Babe, trust me. You can’t out-dumbass them. They’re the biggest idiots I know," he says with a laugh. "So relax, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about."
His words, paired with the kiss he plants on your forehead, manage to soothe your nerves a little. You sigh, nodding reluctantly. Mingyu squeezes your hand one last time before returning to the luggage. Taking a deep breath, you follow him inside, determined to make the best of the weekend.
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Getting to know Mingyu’s friend group has been…an experience, to say the least. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were idiots but in the best possible way. They’re warm, welcoming, and a little chaotic—a combination that instantly makes you feel at ease. In fact, Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin even "initiated" you into their inner circle. You’ve officially become one of the boys.
Right now, the entire group is sprawled across the living room, all varying levels of drunk, playing games. You’re sitting on the floor between Mingyu and Vernon, caught up in a lively game of Truth or Dare. Currently, Jeonghan has dared Joshua to get slapped in the face with kimchi, and to everyone’s delight, Joshua actually went through with it.
You’re doubled over, clutching your stomach in laughter, tears streaming down your face as Joshua wipes kimchi off his cheek with an exasperated expression. Jeonghan, of course, looks beyond pleased with himself.
It’s Soonyoung’s turn next, and judging by the mischievous glint in his eyes and his unsteady giggles, the alcohol is fully in charge now. He spins toward Mingyu with a maniacal grin.
"So, Gyu. Truth or dare?" he asks, practically bouncing in place.
Mingyu, who’s only slightly tipsy, shakes his head with a laugh. "Truth. I’m not risking anything."
"Boo!" Soonyoung pouts dramatically, earning exaggerated groans of disappointment from the rest of the group.
"Buzzkill!" Seokmin calls out from the couch.
"I’d rather not get kimchi-slapped by Jeonghan," Mingyu quips, casting a wary glance at Jeonghan.
"Hey, it’s an enlightening experience," Joshua deadpans, still dabbing his face with a tissue. Jeonghan simply laughs.
Soonyoung suddenly gasps, his eyes wide as if he’s just discovered the secret to the universe. "Oh my God, I got it!" he shouts, his grin downright unhinged. "Gyu, is it true that you’re the submissive one in the bedroom?!"
Your jaw drops. The room instantly explodes with laughter.
"W-What?!" Mingyu stammers, his brows furrowing in shock.
"You heard me!" Soonyoung giggles. "You’re the submissive one, aren’t you?"
Mingyu scoffs, shaking his head. "I’m not."
"Aw, come on, Gyu. Don’t be shy about it," Jeonghan teases, his grin only fueling the chaos. The laughter around you grows louder.
Your face burns as the conversation continues, the guys piling on the teasing with no mercy.
"Guys, seriously, can we not?" Mingyu whines, clearly flustered.
"Not until you admit it!" Seungcheol grins, leaning forward with mock intensity.
"It’s true, right, Y/N? Mingyu’s the submissive one in the bedroom, isn’t he?" Seungkwan chimes in, his laughter contagious.
Your cheeks heat up even more, and you hide your face in your hands, which only makes them laugh harder.
"No need to be shy, Y/N. We all know Gyu’s a massive simp for you—in and out of the bedroom," Joshua says with a wink.
You giggle softly, finally giving in. "Well…he is a huge simp for me."
The room erupts into chaos, everyone howling with laughter.
"She admitted it!" Soonyoung screams, practically rolling on the floor.
"So it’s true! He is submissive!" Jun adds, laughing so hard he has to wipe his eyes.
"I knew it!" Chan chimes in, grinning from ear to ear.
Mingyu groans, his face buried in his hands. "Babe~," he whines, looking at you with a pout.
You offer him an apologetic smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. "Sorry," you murmur, trying to stifle a laugh.
Mingyu grumbles and pouts as the rest of the boys continue to roar with laughter.
The game carries on, but you notice your beer is empty. Announcing to the group that you’re heading to the kitchen to grab more, you stand up and make your way into the next room, separated from the living area by a wall.
You open the fridge and grab a bottle, then reach for the kitchen drawer to find a bottle opener—only to discover it’s missing. With a quiet grumble, you crouch down to check the lower drawers, rummaging through them in hopes of finding what you need.
That’s when you feel it—a presence behind you, someone pressing up against your back. You gasp softly and straighten up quickly, attempting to turn around, but the person behind you cages you in, their arms trapping you against the counter.
"So… it’s true, huh? That I’m the submissive one?" Mingyu’s voice is low as he whispers in your ear.
Relief washes over you when you realise it’s just your boyfriend. Letting out a soft laugh, you shake your head. "Gyu, they were just messing with you," you say, amused at how hung up he still is on the topic.
"But you didn’t deny it," he murmurs, his voice tinged with mock offence. "You told them I’m a simp for you."
"That’s because you are a simp for me," you tease, glancing at him over your shoulder.
"I am," he admits, his tone unashamed as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’m definitely not the submissive one."
Before you can respond, Mingyu rolls his hips against you, his movement deliberate. The sudden sensation draws a surprised gasp from your lips.
"Right, babe?" he teases, and you can feel the smug grin spreading across his face as he continues his little game.
You bite your bottom lip, your body warming under his touch as he grinds against you, the growing pressure unmistakable. "Gyu, not here," you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. "They’ll hear us."
"That’s the whole point, sweetheart," he purrs, his voice dripping with mischief.
"Fuck, Gyu," a soft whimper escapes your lips at a particularly hard grind, causing Mingyu to chuckle.
"What if I just bend you over and fuck you right here? You would like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" He chuckles.
"Gyu, I-" A loud moan escapes your lips, and you quickly bite your lip to prevent any more sounds from escaping.
Grabbing your hips, Mingyu starts guiding your hips against his, pushing your ass against his hard cock. You feel your mind start to get fuzzy as you feel how hard he has become.
"Beg for it, sweetheart. Beg for me to ruin you with my cock," he purrs in your ear.
"Gyu, please… I need it," you whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat.
"Need what, babe?" he asks, his tone playful, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. Your soft whine only makes his grin widen.
"Need you to ruin me with your cock," you mumble.
"Good girl," he whispers before placing a kiss on the shell of your ear.
Without warning, he bends you over the kitchen counter; a yelp escapes your lips as your cheeks make contact with the cold marble. A slow, teasing hand runs down your back, leaving goosebumps in its trail; you can't help but let out a small whine of frustration, eliciting a chuckle from Mingyu.
"So impatient," he smirks as he slaps your ass, drawing a gasp from you.
He unbuckles your pants, and you help him shimmy it off of you, shivering as the cold air nips at your bare legs. He hums as he rubs a finger on your panty-clad pussy, making you whimper.
"So wet already?" he teases with a low chuckle, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Gyu, please," you plead, your voice trembling with desperation, unable to endure his relentless teasing any longer.
"Admit it," he growls softly, his lips brushing against your ear. "Admit that you're the submissive one in bed."
"I'm the submissive one in bed," you cry out, your cheeks burning. "Now, please, just fuck me already!"
Laughing at your impatience, Mingyu slaps your pussy, making you mewl as a sharp wave of pain and pleasure wash over you.
"Such a good girl. My good girl," he growls before unbuckling his pants and slipping out his cock.
Moving your panties to the side, he teases you by rubbing his dick against your folds, coating the tip with your juices. Desperate to feel him, you arch your hips back, seeking more, but Mingyu firmly holds you in place, pressing you tightly against the counter with ease. You let out a frustrated whine, wiggling your hips in a futile attempt to gain some control, but Mingyu’s strength easily overpowers you. Helpless under his grip, you surrender, letting him take the lead like the good girl he knows you are.
He spits on his cock, using it as lube, and gives it a few pumps before slowly inserting it into your tight hole. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth goes agape as you finally feel his cock inside you; his cock stretching you out deliciously. Mingyu's big, the biggest you've ever had, so every time he fucks you, it feels like the first.
Grunts escape his lips as he tries to restrain himself from slamming into you; you feel so good wrapped around him. A choked whimper escapes your lips when you feel his tip kiss your cervix. He pulls out halfway before slamming back into you, stealing the breath from your lungs.
Without hesitation, Mingyu picks up the pace; each thrust rough and relentless. Broken moans and soft whimpers spill from your lips, your mind too clouded with pleasure to focus on anything but the way he fills you so perfectly.
"That's right, sweetheart," he purrs against your ear, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Be loud. Let everyone know how good I’m making you feel."
"G-Gyu," you manage to moan, your voice trembling. "S-so good… feels so good."
"Only I can make you feel this good, isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he growls, his voice rough with possession. One hand moves to grip your neck, holding you firmly in place, while the other steadies your hips.
"Yes! You—only you!" you cry out, your voice shaky as the overwhelming pleasure pushes you closer to the edge.
"Gyu, I'm so close! Please—please, please!" you beg, your words tumbling out in desperate sobs as you plead for release.
The hand holding your hips shifts to circle your clit with precision, and you scream out his name. The knot in your stomach finally unravels, and your vision blurs as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Pleasure ripples through your body, leaving you breathless as you chant his name like a prayer. Mingyu doesn't let up, his movements steady as he thrusts into you, guiding you through the intensity of your release. After a few more thrusts, he cums inside you, filling you up; your fluids mixing together.
You both take a moment to catch your breath, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, he slides out, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the sensation. Pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he adjusts your panties back into place. You cringe slightly, feeling the fabric cling uncomfortably to your skin.
"Keep my cum in you; I'll make sure to fuck it back into you later," he purrs, making you blush.
He helps you stand and gently guides you back into your pants before slipping into his own clothes. Running his fingers through your messy hair, he smooths it down before wiping away any drool and sweat from your face. Then, he leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. You smile into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. When he pulls back, he nuzzles your nose with his, drawing a soft giggle from you.
"Ready to head back?" he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate.
You nod, grabbing your now lukewarm beer before following him back into the living room.
"Did we miss anything?" Mingyu asks casually as he takes a seat, acting as if he didn't just fuck your brains out a few minutes before.
"N-Nothing, you missed nothing," Soonyoung stammers, awkwardly clearing his throat as he tries to hide his very obvious boner.
Your gaze sweeps across the room, and you realise the rest of them are just as flustered, each one failing miserably to hide their boners. You burst into laughter at their awkward state, and Mingyu joins in, clearly enjoying the moment.
With a smug grin, Mingyu looks around at his friends before cupping your face and pulling you in for a deep, possessive kiss. The room fills with groans and exaggerated complaints.
"Get a room!" someone yells, earning more laughter from the both of you.
You giggle into the kiss, relishing the playful teasing, while Mingyu smirks against your lips, clearly pleased to have proven their earlier jabs entirely wrong.
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Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @tomodachiii @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo
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cursedcola · 3 months ago
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I don’t think we talk enough about Yuus who actually have lives back in their world, and are genuinely freaking out about being stuck at NRC. Just imagine them lore bombing the cast because no one ever asks about their homelife. So it’s just random moments of yearning for home until evidently Crowley gets off his rocker and does his job.
————
*having tea at heartslabyul before everyone goes on break*
Yuu: “I miss my mom. This is holiday season back where I’m from…man, this sucks” *sulks and eats tart*
Deuce: You have parents?
Cater: You miss your family???
Riddle: Must be nice.
————
Yuu: *sigh*
Grim: ….
Yuu: *siiiiigh*
Grim: ……….
Yuu: *SIIIIIIIIGH*
Grim: MRAH ALRIGHT ALREADY. WHAT DO YA WANT?
Yuu: I miss my husband. I wonder what he’s doing right now. All I have of him here is my wedding band….I just want to see him.
*proceeds to admire a wedding band they had hidden under their uniform gloves*
Ace+Deuce: YOU’RE MARRIED???? HOW OLD ARE YOU???
Grim: Aye lets pawn that for dorm funds
————
*at monstro lounge. jade’a trying to shove mushrooms down floyd’s gullet. The latter is fighting for his life*
Yuu: Slug em in the nads Floyd! Lesson one in human anatomy! Make em’ sing!
Azul: *appalled* can you not encourage them??? Aren’t you supposed to mediate disagreements?
Yuu: nah. You don’t get between siblings. That’s their beef. GET EM JADE, MAKE EM EAT HIS WEIGHT!
Azul: I take it you have siblings? - urk. Thank the sea witch I am an only child.
Yuu: *cheers when jade claims victory - at the expense of a now broken table* Be grateful it’s just the two. I have three and we once made a game out of sledding on concrete. News flash - the er visit cost quadruple that table
Azul: *proceeds to make medical investment plans*
———
Yuu: *crying*
Leona: The hell’s wrong with them now? *eyes ruggie*
Ruggie: *puts hands up* I didn’ do anything! I just swiped one of their cookies! I swear!
Yuu: *crying harder* It’s an oatmeal creme pie dammit! Y’all don’t know little debbie and it shows!
Leona: ….do i want to know?
Ruggie: *hands back the half eaten creme pie. Lowkey freaking out because Leona looks ready to whack him upside with a spelldrive disc* Here! Y’see? There’s still some…c’mon prefect. Ya can stop crying now. I’ll get Trey to make ya another. Just take a breath.
Yuu: *sobs while eating. Doesn’t know whether to be upset because the creme pie is gone, or because trey’s tastes better than little debbie. So it’s still not the same* I hate you all.
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envy-of-the-apple · 7 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)
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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.
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shybluebirdninja · 4 months ago
Text
Primal Mark
Summary: Logan jerks himself into your panties and you must keep his cum there.
Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader
Note                : cum in panties, masturbation, watching porn together
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The dimly lit room was alive with the flickering light of the screen, casting playful shadows as Logan and you settled in for a night of questionable entertainment. The porn movie crackled with tension, explicit moans mingling with the sultry visuals that danced before your eyes, igniting a primal fire within you both.
“Damn,” Logan chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, the scent of his cologne intoxicating.
“This is getting good.” The way he watched you, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth, made your heart race. You shifted in your seat, aware of the heat radiating from him, practically drawing you in.
As the porn scenes intensified, you felt the air grow thick with unspoken desire. Logan’s gaze never left you, a mixture of hunger and amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
“You know,” he drawled, his voice low and gravelly, “we could have a little fun of our own.”
You turned to him, breathless. “What do you mean?”
“Just sit back and enjoy the show. I’ll show you how much I’m enjoying it,” he replied, a smirk spreading across his face.
With a wicked grin, Logan leaned back, his hands slowly moving down his dick as he began to stroke himself.
“Don’t you dare look away,” he commanded, his voice a rough whisper, filled with dominance.
You nodded, your eyes glued to him as he continued. The porn movie faded into the background; all that mattered was Logan—his muscles tensing and relaxing, the powerful rhythm of his hand.
“Stand up,” he growled, the command in his voice making your body respond before your brain could even catch up. You stood before him, the air between you both hot and suffocating, waiting for his next move.
His eyes trailed down your body, dark and intent.
“Open you panties… just enough,” he instructed, his voice raw with need. You swallowed hard, feeling both exposed and exhilarated, as you did what he asked. You slid the fabric to the front, revealing just enough of your folds to him.
Logan’s eyes widened with primal hunger as he took in the sight of your womanhood.
“That’s it, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and rough. “You’re beautiful.”
His strokes became faster, his grip tighter, and you could see that he was close—so close.
Without warning, he stood up, towering over you, his body radiating heat.
“Get ready,” he murmured, and before you could fully process, he was there—his hand around his length, pumping with rough precision. “I’m gonna mark you.”
Your heart raced, a wild mixture of desire and anticipation building inside you as you stood facing him, your panties pulled to the front, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin.
Logan’s release came with a low, feral growl, and he angled himself just right—his hot cum spilling into your panties, splattering directly onto your bare vagina. You gasped, feeling the wet heat as it landed on your folds, a sinful mixture of his cum and controlling behavior marking you in the most intimate way.
He stepped closer, his rough hand brushing against your thigh as he smirked down at you.
“Now, pull ‘em back up,” he ordered, voice husky. “Let my cum stay right where it belongs… against your pretty little cunt.”
You hesitated for only a moment before following his command, pulling your panties back into place. The slick heat of his release pressed against your entrance, seeping into you, and the sensation was overwhelming, a wild combination of filthy and exhilarating. You could feel him against you—inside you—and the thought sent a shudder of pure lust through your body.
Logan’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, his essence now tucked intimately against your body. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of your hip before gripping it possessively. “That’s it… now, walk around with me all over you.”
His low chuckle sent a spark of heat through you as his hand lingered, his thumb teasing over the fabric of your now-wet panties, pushing his cum even deeper against you.
“You’ll remember this every step you take,” he whispered against your ear, his hot breath making your pulse quicken. “Because now… you’re mine.”
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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago
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Swelter
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Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator
A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.
Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting
Word count: 6.8k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479
Swelter
A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.
Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.
You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.
“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.
“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.
“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”
Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.
“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”
“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”
“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”
“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.
“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.
“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”
“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”
“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.
“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.
“See?” Joel looks triumphant.
“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.
When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.
You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.
Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).
This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.
Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.
Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.
One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.
The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.
“Sarah, I need—“
You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.
Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.
And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.
“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.
God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.
“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.
“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”
“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”
You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.
“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”
“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”
The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.
“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.
In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.
“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.
“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”
“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.
“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”
You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.
The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.
“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”
Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”
“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”
“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”
So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.
A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.
You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.
He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.
With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.
That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.
Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”
“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.
“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.
“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.
“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.
Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.
Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”
“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”
“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”
“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”
“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”
“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”
“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”
It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.
“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.
“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”
This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.
However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.
“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”
“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.
“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”
“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.
His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.
In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.
When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.
He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.
Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.
“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.
“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”
“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”
With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.
“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”
“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”
“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.
When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.
“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”
“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”
“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.
“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.
When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”
Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.
God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”
“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.
“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.
“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“
He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.
You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.
“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”
“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.
Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”
“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”
He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”
You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.
“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.
“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.
Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.
The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.
However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.
“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.
You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.
“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“
“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”
His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.
“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.
“Wrong word,” he replies.
You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”
He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.
Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.
Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.
“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.
“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.
The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”
“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.
“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”
“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.
“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.
“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”
“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.
He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”
“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.
.
.
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erwinsvow · 1 year ago
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it’s like you were put on this earth to bother rafe.
everyday, without fail, come some sort of request—rafe, let’s go get coffee. rafe, i want ice cream. rafe, i wanna go to bed. he tells you to go to bed and you whine immediately after, letting out a faint “not alone! not what i meant!” before he rolls his eyes, one huge hand settling on your hip and the other one on your back, throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to bed. 
once you finally get him there it’s all laughs and giggles and avoiding his gaze, getting shy again, refusing to tell him what you really want. he rolls his eyes and gives it to you hard, like he knows you need it, so you’ll fall asleep and let him finish his work in silence. and it works—for a few hours, that is. then you're up again, usually with more requests.
“rafe, they’re having a sale.” you fiddle with your R pendant, the way you always do when you want something and can’t find the words to just ask for it. for a girl pawing at his dick and begging for it raw half the time, you get awfully shy. 
“so? how many fuckin’ clothes do y’need?” 
“you’re the one who keeps ripping ‘em up! not my fault-”
he rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair.
"knock it off," he says, coming out louder and more frustrated than he meant.
then he watches you quiet down and scroll on your phone, biting your cheek. he thinks he messed up and made you cry. he feels bad the second it's done, because there’s definitely some pretty, tiny dress pulled up on the screen that you want to show him. 
he knows how your brain works at this point—you want him to get it for you, take you out to a cute dinner so you can wear it and then have him yank it off of you later that night. you won’t ask for it though, there’s your shyness again. 
you feel bad when he actually does buy you anything more than a six-dollar latte or a big ice cream that you can’t finish.
"what're you looking at?" he finally asks, not even a minute later, looking at your body resting on the complete other side of the bed now.
"nothing."
"you gonna do this right now?"
"do what?"
"just show me what you want."
"no, it's nothing. i'll just ask my other boyfriend for it, it's fine-"
before your sentence is finished, he's already on top of you, squishing your cheeks together, pinning you down. he stares into your eyes, maybe expecting tears, but they don't come. instead you look... satisfied. satisfied with yourself for riling him up like you wanted.
"yeah? other boyfriend?"
"jus' a joke, rafey." your voice comes out all quiet and squeaky since he's holding your face tight. your eyes are big and wide staring up at him. he hates that he's getting hard right now. he lets you go, rolling off and feeling your body sink into his bed.
“get your ass in the car.” it comes out as a statement, not a request. you comply immediately, leaning over to give him a wet, sloppy kiss before stumbling out of bed to grab your shoes. he gets up too, looking for his keys, when you come right back to give him a hug. you press your head against his chest, arms wrapped tight around his neck, eyes fluttering shut, breathing in his scent.
“thank you, rafe,” you murmur against his shirt.
“yeah, yeah, whatever,” he starts, but you don’t miss the way the tops of his ears are flushed with pink. “get the fuckin’ address for that place out-”
he does take you out to dinner, a cute place where he pulls out your chair for you and holds your hand in his on the table. he gets you flowers that match the color of your new dress, which are resting in the backseat of his car now. he kisses your cheek when he helps you put your jacket back on. then he slaps your ass when you’re getting into the passenger seat of his truck, because now it’s his turn to have fun with that dress.
later that night, close to sleep, you paw at his arm and ask for ice cream. the two of you are on the road five minutes later. he turns his head at the red light to watch you lick your cone. then you hold it up to his mouth so he can have some too, smiling and laughing when he takes a big bite.
he's starting to think he likes when you bother him for stuff.
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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 months ago
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Come And See Me
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Summary: “sexually reserved men are THE best. Well behaved, won’t steal a kiss, won’t touch you inappropriately but boy if you give them consent? FINISHED…”
Terry Richmond isn’t the type of man Summer is used to. He’s the strong, silent type. A lot of discipline and control. She’s used to men falling to their knees in an instant. Hardly any dirty talk. But it does feel good to get to know someone on a deeper level for a change. He promises he’d come see her, but Summer didn’t take his word for it. That was, until he walked into that strip club one evening to surprise her with…
“Flowers?”
Summer was in the middle of a routine that earned her bandz at an unimaginable level. She climbed that pole, showed off her acrobatic skills, flexed that body and popped that ass so good she had ‘em lost for words. Speechless.
Terry Richmond walked in with a bouquet of flowers, dressed in khakis, a Curaçao soccer shirt, and white Air Forces. His hair was styled in a tapered cut with a curly fro. In his large, veiny hand, Terry gripped her red roses tightly, walking through until he made it to a section he’d reserved directly in front of the stage. He wanted an up close and personal view of Summer. He didn’t plan to take his aurora gray eyes off of her.
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His captivating eyes created a path of seduction across her glistening skin that glittered beneath the strobe lights. Drink in his other hand, he took small sips, licking his lips nice and slow. Terry held the faintest smirk on his lips, body composed, but his heart was racing. His print left little to the imagination. Low grunts fell on deaf ears. Summer hit a split and made her hefty cheeks bounce. That body on her deserved big dick. It was built for big dick. Terry couldn’t wait. It’s been too long. Suddenly, as if she could sense him, Summer glanced over her shoulder and that’s when she realized Terry had shown up.
For a second, she’d forgotten where she was. His presence stunned her. Summer turned her body on the floor of the stage, money sticking to her tacky skin. Their eyes locked on for a while. Oooh, she was speechless. Summer started grinding her crotch towards him, rolling her hips and biting her lip. Terry’s piercing gaze was fixated on her face the entire time. Not once did he look down. It was so intense, her clit pulsated.
Drankin’ and Smokin’ came on and Summer lifted her shapely body into a squat, slowly and teasingly removing her bikini top. At this point, she was putting on a show for Terry and Terry only. Her Marine. She’d had his name saved under Mr. Marine in her phone. The hot pink top fell to the stage, bountiful titties with pierced nipples saluted. Terry dropped his beautiful eyes down to stare at her round, fat titties.
We drink up and we smoke, but she always do the most
It kinda turns me on the way she lickin' on my stones
My chains on antifreeze, it look like I made a clone
Wanna see you get more sassy, if it bring out better emotions
She called me her God, the way I floated in her ocean…
Summer needed him. So bad. That fine ass man. Seeing him in person…seeing the man behind that deep baritone. She rushed off that stage in an instant as soon as the music faded out. Breathing uneven, she walked off in her seven-inch pleasers, looking back at Terry, mind replaying all their conversations late at night…
(one of their many phone conversations)
“Hey baby…I wish you could see what I have on right now…You so sexy, imagine how…Intense it would be…To hold me right now…Our song's playin’…”
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Body wrapped in her faux fur, black blanket, head resting against her black satin pillows, Summer held her cellphone to her ear with one hand, the other caressing her tawny skin. Terry made a sound that vibrated her core.
“Summer rain…when I listen to that, you know I think about you, right? Mmm…I bet you look so good in my T-shirt.”
“You’re so far, and I’m all alone in my bed…”
Summer was wearing an old, baggy T-shirt; Terry’s Marine Corps T-shirt. The fabric of it against her body with his voice in her ear gave her butterflies.
I can still hear your baritone
In my ear telling me you'll take it slow
And I was in the mirror playing wrong
Like you were here, I couldn't turn me on
So I fell asleep with the music on
Woke up again hearing the same old song, playing…
Summer paced her bedroom, stopping in front of her window, gazing out into the rainy evening, pressed to the glass, and laughing at Terry and his corny jokes. Her brown eyes followed the path of the raindrops, the sudden recollection of her own essence dripping. All he did was make her laugh, spew facts about things she’d never heard of, and say over and over again how beautiful she is. He didn’t judge her. She felt safe with Terry and she hadn’t even met him in person yet. Thoughts of how gentle and kind and thoughtful he is makes her play in her pussy every night.
“Patience, baby…When I get to you, you’re all mine…”
She shut her lids and pictured him, standing at his towering height, bending over to kiss along her neck and wrap those big arms around her waist. Now, her body is shaking to the fantasies.
“Don’t take it easy on me, Terry. I need you here…”
Summer turned, pressing her back against the window, bringing the collar of his T-shirt to her nose and taking a whiff. Mmmm…it smelled just like his cologne. Vanilla and Sandalwood.
“You’ll be begging me to take it easy on you, baby…”
——
“Summer.”
Terry stood up and approached her. She was wearing a form-fitting black dress with her belongings. Her long, jet-black, silk pressed hair was pinned up with a claw clip. Summer gave Terry a bashful smile. She couldn’t contain the butterflies in her belly. Terry handed her the roses.
“Thank you,” Summer smelled them, “they’re beautiful…I can’t believe it’s really you…”
She knew Terry was tall, but DAMN. She had to crane her neck just to look up at him. And his eyes…Summer found herself getting lost in them.
“You’re so much more beautiful in person. That performance…damn…”
Summer tucked her chin, unable to contain her blushing. Terry startled Summer when he lifted her chin for her to look at him. Her breath hitched.
“Up here…”
“Okay…”
“You did amazing up there. I’m glad I got to see it in person…” Terry whispered with a low, resonant voice.
“Thank you, Terry. Me too.”
“Should we get outta here? I’m kinda anxious right now to have you all to myself…”
Summer chuckled softly, body vibrating with lust. Terry wouldn’t stop admiring her. It was so intense, Summer shyly smiled and dropped her head. What was it about this man that had her acting all giddy and nervous?
“C’mon,” Terry held his hand out for Summer to grasp.
Thighs clenching, Summer accepted Terry’s hand and when she placed her hand in his, Summer almost whimpered. His entire hand swallowed hers. Warm and strong. Fuck. Summer allowed Terry to guide her out of the strip club. When they’d finally made it to the door, Terry placed his hand on the small of her back, holding the door opened for her.
“Did you drive here?” Terry questioned.
“I did,” Summer pointed to her blue lexus, “This is me.”
“I’ll follow you out if that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay!” Summer responded excitedly.
Terry laughed before opening her door for her when she unlocked it. He helped Summer inside and then he took her things to put them in the back seat. Terry stood at the opening of her driver’s side door, looking down at her with a smirk and soft eyes.
“I’ll be right behind you, baby girl.”
“Okay, Terry…”
She watched as he leaned into her car, her body tensing up. Terry grabbed her hand and pecked it gently to tease, then came that deep chuckle she loved so much. It took her a moment to gather herself. It was the faintest of kisses but the feel of his generous lips against flesh sent sparks throughout her body. The hairs on her arms stood up and her pussy did that pitter-patter thing.
“Drive safe.”
He shut her door and flashed her a quick smile before jogging over to his truck—an all black GMC Sierra 2500HD Denali. Summer started the ignition, licking her lips to . Cocoa butter. She pulled out of the parking lot and checked to see if Terry was following her. When the coast was clear, she drove off with shaky hands and a flutter in her belly.
——
Summer stayed in a nice cul-de-sac home with a two car garage. She’d made enough money as an exotic dancer to purchase a home and move out of her apartment. She hopped out of her car and Terry pulled in closer as soon as she shut the garage. He quickly exited his car and grabbed her duffel bag so she could open the door.
Terry was finally going to see her home. After talking for months and wondering if he would ever come to see her, she didn’t have to doubt him anymore. Summer opened the front door and turned on the lights. The home had a futuristic feel to it that Summer loved. Terry took off his shoes and socks so he wouldn’t ruin her good carpet. While Summer got settled, he did some exploring of the first level.
Biomorphic curves, gravity-defying elements, sleek materials and bold angles. It looked like something dreamed up by Hollywood. Even the staircase leading up to her room with its modern glass rails completed the design. Summer returned with her flowers, giving Terry a megawatt smile filled with dimples and glossy lips. He followed her into her kitchen and watched her place her roses in a vase.
“This is nice, baby,” Terry took in his scenery of sleek stainless steel and marble, “So, this where you cook up them smothered pork chops, collard greens, and red beans and rice, huh?”
Summer giggles, “You know it. This is my favorite place to be. Would you like some wine?”
“I’ll take some, thank you,” Terry placed his arms behind his back as he stood near the kitchen island.
Summer handed him a glass and Terry accepted it with a slight tilt of his head and a penetrating gaze. They toasted each other before taking a sip of the white wine. The silence was palpable. They were both so thrilled to be in each other’s presence that words were lost on their tongues. Terry broke the silence with a nervous chuckle. He gently placed his now empty glass on the kitchen island before walking with slow, purposeful strides to reach Summer on the other side.
Summer had a firm grip on her wine glass, brown eyes ascending his tall frame to reach his gorgeous face. The pictures of him told her that Terry is a rare sight. A man this handsome is hard to come by. To view him in person; skin-to-skin, breath-to-breath, eye-to-eye, Summer had never seen a man so beautiful. Terry reached out to remove the glass from her hand and he sat it down on the counter top.
“Miss. Summer. I’ve been waitin’ a long time for this moment…and I know that I’ve made promises to come see you…that haven’t been fulfilled…and I’m sure you’ve had your doubts…”
“I have, I’m not gonna sugar-coat it. But you’re here now,” Summer exhaled slowly, “I don’t have to fantasize about what it would be like to have you next to me in my bed anymore…”
When you're not here
(I sleep in your t-shirt)
I wish you were here
(To take off your t-shirt)
After we make love
(I sleep in your t-shirt)
Wake up in your t-shirt
I smell the scent of your cologne…
“I don’t have to wish anymore,” Summer blinked up at Terry as she reached out her hand to stroke his arm that’s two sizes bigger than hers and covered in veins, “Or wonder if we could be something…”
“Hey,” Terry drew in closer his voice lowering a register, “We are something, baby. I need to get that doubt out your head…may I?”
Terry opened his arms and Summer gave her consent with a nod of her head before his arms hugged her tight. Summer pressed her cheek centimeters below his chest. He’s so big and warm. Body beneath his T-shirt unyielding. Terry’s hands began to explore. One hand threaded into her hair, massaging her scalp through her silky, thick tresses, the other glided up and down her back soothingly. Summer couldn’t remember the last time she’d been hugged like this by a man if not ever.
“I wanna explain what held me up a while…I had some legal issues in Shelby Springs…my cousin got mixed up in some mess and I went to bail him out but…he died.”
“The cousin you told me about? Are you serious?”
Summer rested her chin against Terry’s chest as she looked up at him with saddened eyes. He looked back at her, so much emotion swirling in those blue-gray orbs with flecks of gold and brown, as if they are forever changing.
“Yeah,” Terry’s shoulders slumped, “It’s a lot…still gotta clear my name…lawyer up…I’m sorry I’m dumping all this shit on you right now—”
“Don’t be, Terry, don’t be,” Summer caressed Terry’s cheek, “That’s a lot. I’m so sorry…I can’t imagine…”
Summer squeezed Terry and he reciprocated. She felt her body being lifted from the floor and her arms wrapped around his neck.
“I’m so sorry about your cousin.” Summer said.
“Thank you, ‘ppreciate that…you’re so precious…”
Summer smiled fondly at Terry, “You’re such a good man, Terry Richmond.”
He loved that she said that. It made him smile handsomely down at her. She wanted to continue putting a smile on his face.
“You’re my safe space, Summer…”
She shut her eyes to avoid the onslaught of tears. It’s only been months that they’ve been talking. She’s his safe space?
“Terry…”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes—”
Terry hooked his hands beneath Summer’s ass and hiked her up so her thighs could circle his cut waistline. One hand cradled the back of her neck while the other secured her waist snugly against him.
Summer felt her heart race. The air was thick with the creamy, warm, and earthy scent of his cologne, and the distant sound of her heartbeat faded into the background. A mix of security and excitement reflected in their depths.
With a tentative smile, Terry brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, sending shivers down her spine. The hand against her waist gave a gentle squeeze that spoke volumes. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling.
When their lips finally met, it was soft and hesitant at first, testing the waters. But as the kiss deepened, the world around them faded away, leaving only the warmth of their connection and the thrill of a moment long awaited. Their tongues danced a slippery recital, lip’s cushiony, teeth grazing.
He’d ached to taste her. To taste a woman after so long. Summer’s daydreaming didn’t prepare her for the reality in front of her. Terry’s long legs began to guide them into Summer’s living room and towards her couch. He pulled away so that he could place her on her back. Summer’s dress had ridden up her shapely thighs revealing smooth, tawny skin. Terry knelt one leg between her thighs before lowering over her. Summer lifted to kiss him again, but Terry stopped her with a single finger to her lips.
“…It’s been way too long for me, baby girl. Seeing you dance tonight…doing your thing up there…it took a lot of work not to walk up on that stage and put this dick in you.”
Summer’s breath hitched.
“I’ve painted a picture in my mind many times of what that body looked like…” Terry’s eyes dropped down to the tops of Summer’s breasts, “I don’t think I ever told you I’m a breast man…and you got a pair that I just wanna…”
He pressed his face into her neck and inhaled. Summer drew her bottom lip into her mouth to control the incessant trembling. He’d never talked this dirty to her.
“…I just wanna suck and lick and nibble all over these titties…”
She could feel her nipples hardening from his words alone. Hearing it in person and so close to her ears had a greater effect. Summer was squirming. Her pussy leaked so much that it became unbearable to even wear panties around him. She’d have to walk around with an exposed pussy to cool off.
“I can suck these titties all night…sleep with a titty in my mouth…play with your nipples until you’re squirming…flick your nipples with my tongue…you got some thick nipples too, baby…mmmh…”
That long, drawn out groan into her neck had her whimpering. This man had her weak. Summer raked her nails down his chest before twisting the fabric of his T-shirt into her fist.
“Here, please,” Summer thrust her chest into him, “Daddy, please…”
“I love the way you beg, baby girl…” Terry kissed down her neck, “you’ll be doin’ a lot of that shit tonight. Beg for me to suck on that pussy…beg for me to fit this dick in you nice and good…”
“Terry…”
His malleable lips created a tickling sensation until he reached her breasts. Summer watched with desperation as his lips covered the fleshy hills in a repeated motion. She was mewling. Nipples so hard. He started kissing around each nipple through her dress. Summer clawed the suede sofa.
“Daddy…”
She was shivering.
“Want more? Where you want it? Talk to me…”
She was able to control the quiver of her lower lip to speak, “Please suck on my nipples…I can’t take it.”
“Nahhh, you gotta beg harder than that…”
Summer moaned softly, “uhnnnnnn…” when he used his teeth to nibble on her nipples, “Daddy, I want you to suck my nipples. Do whatever you want to my titties…please, please, please….”
Terry peered up at Summer with those hypnotic eyes.
“Good girl…that’s how you ask for what you want…”
With one hand, Terry’s eyes remained fixated on Summer’s face, he lowered the top of her strapless, body-con dress, one beautiful, round, breast coming into view. Skin like honey, nipples and areolas a deep brown. Busty and asymmetrical. Perfectly imperfect. Her bejeweled nipple pebbled and Terry’s lips parted.
“Shit, you just don’t know…”
He revealed the other breast and it jiggled a little upon its release.
“So fuckin’ beautiful…”
He blew air onto her nipples. Summer arched her back. Terry used that opportunity to slither his hands beneath her to keep her chest elevated so he could attack each big titty the way he wanted. Hair in her face, glossy lips slightly open, soft moans flowing from her mouth, Summer looked pleasantly horny.
Terry started off with flicking her nipples back and forth. His pink tongue is warm and wet. When his lips drew her left nipple into her mouth first, Summer cried out. Her thighs gripped his waist, and Terry couldn’t wait to feel those soft thighs do the same thing to his head.
“Ah, mmm, unhhhh, yesss…you like these fat titties, daddy?”
“Mhm,” Terry was in the zone sucking back and forth.
She could tell he was a titty man alright. He rubbed his face in it, dragged his teeth down her breast bone, used his big, strong, veiny hands to push her breast together so he could trace his tongue back and forth.
“I’m a need you to do that on this pussy!”
Terry released a laugh, burying his face between her breasts. Summer was hot all over and close to tackling this man!
“More wine first,” Terry rest his cheek against one of her breasts as he looked up at her, “So soft…the best pillow…”
Summer exhaled impatiently, “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Good.”
Terry kissed her breasts one last time before covering her back up, “Are you okay with me getting the wine? While you put on some music?”
Summer wasn’t prepared for the visual. Terry stood up and as he was fixing his shirt that had lifted up, she focused on those abs, the strip of hair leading down to his crotch, and the deep v-cut. The lower her eyes went, the more she had to stop herself from dropping to her knees. A very vivid and distinct outline of his third leg sat along his thigh like a python beneath a sheet waiting to strike. He was on brick.
“It’ll be all yours tonight…”
Their eyes met with equal desire.
“I’ll go grab that wine…bathroom?”
“Uh…d–down the hall and t–to your right.”
Terry chuckled, “I’ll be back.”
He disappeared and Summer let out a long exhale. She walked over to her Bluetooth sound system and knew exactly what she wanted to listen to.
——
Summer dimmed the lights with her cell phone and after five minutes, Terry returned with their glasses and a bottle.
Storming outside, rain
She keeps me home
Quiet conversation makes me warm
So
Summer rain
Whispers me to sleep
And wakes me up again
Sometimes i swear i hear her call my name…
Terry smiled at her. Summer pat the sofa cushion next to her enthusiastically. He handed her a glass and plopped down, throwing an arm over her shoulder. His finger tips caressed her arm as they sang along to summer rain
“So go ahead and make it rain…you bring the sunshine back again…”
“Okay vocals!” Summer teased.
Terry threw his head back and laughed, “Stop.”
“I’m just teasing, daddy,” Summer snuggled closer, “More wine, please…”
“Anything for you,” Terry leaned forward to retrieve the bottle.
Summer rain started playing again.
They emptied the bottle of wine and their tipsy banter stared. Terry was very playful. He had Summer trapped beneath him on the throw rug, his shirt off and thrown somewhere. Summer couldn’t stop giggling. The wine had her feeling light and cozy. Her laughter couldn’t be contained.
“If you follow directions, I wouldn’t have to do this,” Terry had her by her wrists above her head, “You gotta behave to get what you want, Summer. I’m not asking…I’m telling.”
“It’s on my thigh, and you expect me to behave?”
“I expect you to remember who’s in charge…”
“Terry,” Summer rolled her eyes, “You haven’t felt how deep this throat can go yet.”
“So? What that mean?” Terry arched a dark brow, “You ain’t felt my mouth on your pussy yet.”
Terry sat back on his knees above Summer. She lifted up onto her elbows. He tucked his chin slightly and stared at her with this primal look that reminded her of a jungle cat.
“…take this dress off.”
Summer sat up on her butt and shimmy’s her hips, bringing her dress up and over her head, revealing black, cheeky, lace panties and a matching strapless bra. Terry crawled to her. He pulled her into a fierce kiss. Summer’s hands roamed all over his muscles. His skin is so soft.
“Your room…now…” Terry spoke against her lips, “Right now…”
They both stood on unsteady legs, laughing. Terry popped Summer on the ass and she whimpered softly. They moved towards the stairs, Terry creating space between them so he could watch Summer seduce him with her slow ascend. She would look back at him as she climbed, smirking at him with those siren eyes. That booty in those panties made him want to take a bite.
He’d been dying to see her room. She pushed open the double doors and Terry came face-to-face with a room made for a vixen. The dark palate mixed with low lighting created the perfect space to get nasty. And he planned to get real nasty. Terry walked up on Summer from behind, and with one hand, he gathered her straightened hair into his fist neatly and tugged. She pivoted back against him, her soft cheeks flush against his crotch.
“I’m undressing you…”
Hair still in his grasp, Terry worked on her bra. It fell from her body to the floor. He released her hair so that he could drop down and take her panties off. Summer looked over her shoulder at him. He peeled her panties away at a snails pace. His lips kissed her back dimples. She wiggled her hips to help him lower her panties. Buttery, smooth skin beneath his fingertips.
Terry nibbled on her ass like a famished man. His hands kneaded her plump flesh. It was time to peel the crotch of her panties away from her pussy.
“Bend forward slightly…yes…just like that…”
His deep grunt told her all she needed to know. Terry was blown away by how much sticky, wetness connected to her panties. A slimy, sweetness he couldn’t wait to clean up with his tongue. The aroma of her arousal activated his taste buds. The shape of her lips from the back had him mesmerized. Summer stepped out of her panties quickly so Terry could have her completely.
“C’mere,” Terry stood and walked Summer towards her bed, “Sit this pussy on my mouth right now.”
He got down on the floor and tilted his head back on the bed. Summer straddled his face and tilted her pelvis forward. Terry placed each hand on her ass to push her closer. The moment her pussy smothered him, he used his tongue to clean up her mess.
“Fuck!”
Summer felt his tongue part her outer lips and swipe upward. She almost saw heaven.
“Mhm…”
Her legs shook. Terry pushed her legs apart further with force so he can eat it more. Summer raised a leg to the edge of the bed and Terry wasted no time using his lips and tongue in junction to slurp on her pussy.
“Yes….oh….”
This was a man that knew what he was doing. He didn’t have to tell you. Summer started feeding his mouth some pussy with a roll of her hips. Terry followed her movements eagerly. Clit hard, folds nice and slick, she knew she was close. It was only a matter of time.
“Terry, I’m gonna cum in your mouth…”
His silence was her undoing. He was too busy eating pussy like a starved man. She could hear his big lips working her up to a juicy cum. His tongue darting in and out of her wet hole, her clit being attacked from every angle imaginable, she was going to burst.
“Terry…Terryyyyyy…”
That ass and those thighs jiggled out of control.
“Uhhhhhh….ahhhhhhh….huuuuuuuuhh….”
She fisted the sheets so hard her nails dug info her skin painfully. The aftershocks of her release left lingering tremors she couldn’t control. Terry removed his lips from her clit, a trail of her cum connected to his bottom lip. His face was covered in sweat and cum. Summer threw herself onto the bed so Terry could stand. She looked at him and watched as he licked his lips.
“So good…your pussy tastes so good…”
“Thank you…now I wanna taste you…”
It was the moment she’d been waiting for. Terry hummed his approval, walking up towards her. Summer worked to undo his pants with frantic movements. Terry didn’t stop her. She wanted that dick in her mouth.
“Get yours, baby…”
“Oh, I will,” Summer replied.
Summer lowered his pants and briefs. His dick bobbed out and she had to take a moment to just…
He was definitely a big boy. Enough to stretch you out. That pain and pleasure mix. His length told her she would feel it in her stomach. The veins created a path for her tongue to take. His tip; the perfect shape to fit in her mouth perfectly. His balls were taunt and heavy. It was a masterpiece.
“Summer…put this dick in your mouth…that’s an order.”
An order she would gladly accept. Summer kissed along his shaft. Terry smoothed her hair back so she wouldn’t mess it up. Her kisses turned sloppy, then she added some tongue, then she found herself sinking down onto his pole the sides of her mouth stretched to accommodate all of him.
“Put more in there,” Terry placed his arms behind his back, watching her like a drill sergeant, “there you go…such a good little thing, ain’t you?”
He sat at the back of her throat. Summer used her neck and jaw muscles to work that dick with loud sucking and spit bubbles. Terry’s mouth dropped open when she showed him that she could deep throat. Her tongue wiggled against his balls and Terry almost nutted down her throat from that alone.
“Damn, girl…you lovin’ this big dick?”
“Mmmmcmcjdkssk—”
“Fuuuck,” Terry’s beautiful eyes rolled shut, “that’s how you suck this dick…that’s how you show daddy…”
Summer loved sucking dick. Terry’s dick deserved all the love. She would suck it and look in his eyes. Terry stared back with furrowed brows and a bite of his lip.
“Summer…”
Her name resonated from his voice so deep and lustrous.
She pulled out all her tricks. Sucked his balls, focused on his tip, licked his frenulum. Terry’s ab muscles flexed and his squared jaw clenched. Her hair in his grip, Terry was losing his sanity.
“I’m cumming—”
Thick, ropes of ejaculate filled her mouth.
“Ughh–ahhhhh fuck—”
Summer drank down every single drop like it was the sweetest cream filling. She’d waited months to do this and she was going to make this beautiful man cum. That fat dick hung in her face ready for more action and she had a wet pussy for it to dig into.
“Aight, on your back, no more wasting time.”
Terry spoke those words with such urgency. Summer felt the firmness in his tone. She scooted onto the bed and spread her legs wide and limber. Terry climbed onto the bed and settled between her legs. The feeling of the tip of his dick sitting against her pussy lips made this moment all too real.
“Yes…put that big dick in me…”
Terry placed himself above her and with one hand, he guided his dick between her lips and then with a slight thrust of his hips, he sank inside of Summer. She gasped, knees drawing into her chest. Terry watched his dick split her open with a penetrating stare. Summer tried to move and Terry locked her legs to her ears.
“You want me to keep you still? I suggest you stop moving.”
She froze.
With one thrust, he was fully inside of her. Summer moaned louder. As a reflex, she tried to close her legs, but Terry wasn’t having that.
“Terry! Holy FUCKING SHIT!”
“Eyes on me. That’s an order.”
He smirked mischievously. She was ruined.
Terry pumped into her at a moderate pace. Summer couldn’t handle taking all that dick and focusing on his eyes at the same time. There was no way.
“It’s so big!”
“It’s big but this pussy love it, this pussy love it, look at this pussy…creamin’ all over me like that…such a messy girl…”
Summer was making a mess indeed. You could hear it and see it. Wet, sloshing noises.
“Ain’t been fucked in a while…got you wettin’ this dick up.”
She couldn’t handle the way his dick stroked her spot.
“Stretchin’ this pussy out? Didn’t I say I wasn’t gon’ take it easy?”
She couldn’t speak. How could she? Terry had her folded in half and teetering over the edge. She felt her stomach grow tight and her body seized up.
“T–T–T—”
Summer didn’t have a chance. She turned her head and cried out. Terry held his dick deep while staring down at her face.
“You tryna push me out?” Terry chuckled evily, “What if I don’t wanna leave?”
“P–please, daddy…”
“Hmm,” Terry slowly withdrew his hips, “Please keep fucking you?”
His words were killing her. She could only nod her head.
Oh! Boy I've been waiting
(Oh oh oh)
Now my body's shaking
(Oh oh oh)
You're so deep, baby please, take it easy…
“Think you can arch your back for me?”
Terry kissed Summer on her lips.
“Mhm…”
Terry lifted Summer and helped her into position. She arched her back exactly how he wanted her. Deep with that ass high in the air. He was tall so it needed to be. Terry had a handful of her ass and that was his leverage to anchor his dick in her pussy. Summer groaned into the sheets. She looked breathtaking. Hair fanned out above her. Back in a beautiful position. Ass sitting up and giving Terry the best view of that pink pussy.
“Oooh!”
She could feel him almost touch her heart with how long his dick is!
“Terry, it’s too much!”
He wasn’t even giving her all of him. He arched a brow down at her.
“What did we discuss…”
She knew to be a big girl but LAWD he was hefty.
“I know…it’s just so big…”
“With a body like this…it’s built for dick like mine…”
He stroked slower, Summer drooling onto her sheets.
“Nah you look at me when I’m in this pussy…”
“Summer turned her head and looked back at Terry.
“There’s my pretty girl…such a pretty girl.”
Summer put a finger in her mouth and sucked on it like a pacifier while staring into his eyes.
“Fine ass,” Terry picked up the pace.
“Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!”
Summer bit down on her finger and her eyes crossed. She coated his dick again and at this point it was dripping wet. Terry pulled out and ate her from behind. He couldn’t control himself. Summer tried to move her hips away and it earned a sharp slap to the ass. Terry resurfaced, pumping his dick in his hand. He snatched Summer by her hair and abruptly angled her head to suck him off. Summer did just that while Terry fingered her pussy from the back. He started talking her through it.
“Fingers deep in this pussy, little one? Mmhm…”
Summer stroked him while sucking on his tip.
“There you go, such a creamy little slut…”
She furrowed her brows at the feeling of two fingers pumping her. She was leaking to the bed.
“Daddy fingering this pussy good? Hmm?”
Summer spit his dick out, “I’m cumming!”
Terry continued to work his fingers knuckle deep. Summer felt something burst inside of her and soon she was creating a puddle between her legs. Terry’s fingers slipped out and he brought them to her mouth to taste. Summer licked them clean for him.
“I know you can give me more, right?”
“Yes…” Summer replied weakly.
Terry placed Summer on her back and then he got between her legs from the side. Terry pointed his still hard dick at her pussy and with one look into her eyes he was back inside like he never left. His toned hips worked to drill her hole.
“Daddy! Cum already!” Summer begged.
It felt too good and she couldn’t handle the overwhelming pleasure. She pressed a weak hand against his abs, attempting to push him away, only for Terry to lock her wrist down. He licked his lips at her and gave her a sly smirk while continuing to fuck her into the mattress.
“Terry…”
“Yes?”
Summer erupted. The tight hold from her walls made his balls tighten and his dick pulsate within her wetness.
“Give me this pussy!”
Terry’s hips stuttered out of control. He couldn’t hold off any longer. This good pussy on her had his dick so sensitive.
“Summer…FUCK!”
Terry pulled out and Summer shot up from the bed with her tongue poked out and eyes on him. Terry fisted his long dick, emptying a big load all over her tongue and face. It just wouldn’t stop. His ass muscles clenched from the overwhelming pressure. Summer looked pleasantly fucked and her giggle warmed his heart.
“You’re such a nasty girl…”
“All for you…”
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snickerdoodlebaby · 23 days ago
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Thanos/Choi Subong NSFW Headcanons
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Warnings: NSFW (18+), smutty, substance use, manipulation (this takes place pre-games btw!)
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I imagine you two to have a friends with benefits situation. Subong doesn’t like commitment and the sexual tension between you guys is too intense to ignore.
His motto is “tits or ass? why not both?”
Would love to get you to smoke weed with him, especially the lazy messy makeout sessions that ensue during it
Has tons of experience. Don’t worry, that translates to veryyy good things for you in the bedroom, he’s so goddamn good at eating pussy.
Loves your legs over his shoulders, pressing your legs to your chest, mating press, anything that evolves him feeling up your soft legs/thighs and bending your body in half.
Doesn’t take off his cross while he fucks you. It dangles between you two as he’s above you, resting coldly on your boobs when he leans down to connect your mouths in a sloppy kiss.
Can be mean in the bedroom, but mostly very cocky and just loves to see you embarrassed and flustered. Loves the huge ego boost he gets when you cover your face in embarrassment or you can’t help the cute pathetic noises leaving your lips. You’re so cute! He’s not below making fun of you until you pout with your plump bottom lip out, and he loves to tease.
Loves when you whine his name out, “Subong…” and give him your pleading puppy eyes. He’ll grin widely and pinch your cheek, sometimes giving you what you want. Most of the time makes you beg for it while you try to hide your blushing face.
“Beg Thanos if you want it so bad.”
Will refer to himself in the third person cuz he’s silly and cocky like that
I imagine him living the high life in a mansion before he lost all his money to crypto. It’s big, modern, lots of marble and granite. Throws tons of parties where everyone gets shit-faced. Loves loves loves you being there so he can sling his arm around you the entire party. If you’re a party girl you’ll be living the dream everyday of your life. If not, well, you better get used to it, the drug scene and all.
That being said about his house, his room is a stark contrast to the rest of his place. Dim lights, neon signs along the walls spelling out his name in Korean and english, dark red walls and black accents. Various music equipment lying around, a futon (his favorite place to get blowjobs from you), a few weights, and his king-size black bed which is never made. Smoke almost always clouds the room creating a dream-like atmosphere. It always smells like weed or sweat in there and his floor is covered in clothes (some of them being yours that you forgot about).
LOVES LOVES LOVES IT when you wear one of his shirts and just panties. It’s so oversized on you and hangs off one shoulder. He thinks you look so sexy like that. Your favorite shirt to borrow is his neon green one, it smells so good, so Subong.
Pretty fit but not overly muscular. He’s got great pecs and loves to walk around shirtless ‘cause he knows you’re so weak for it (and just because).
So often you’ll show up at his place and he’ll be lazily walking around without a shirt on and a baggy pair of shorts slung low on his hips, far enough to see the brand of boxers he’s wearing. His cross laying on his bare chest between his pecs. Makes your legs wobbly.
He’s constantly got scratch and claw marks down his back from you. And lovesss to show it off.
Loves to pay for you to get your nails done (so you can scratch him with em), honestly loves to pay for your everything and I can see him using money recklessly to show off. Will never let you buy anything when you’re with him.
Will be trying to get you to use. If you don’t already, he’ll see it as a conquest to corrupt you. He knows it’s bad and doesn’t really care, he’d love to bring you down to his level if it meant you two could feel good together. Will definitely be manipulating you into taking a pill from his cross.
“C’mon baby, it’ll make y’feel so good. Ya trust me right?”
Gives you substances through sexual methods only. Popping a pill in his mouth and kissing you, pushing it through your lips with his tongue. Putting a pill on his tongue and sticking it out for you to lick off. Blowing smoke & vapor into your mouth.
Has a thing for your mouth and lips. The view of your lips stretched around the base of his cock is his favorite thing in the world. When you leave lipstick stains on his pelvis he doesn’t want to wash it off afterwards.
This man has a tattooed and pierced dick — he has no shame and a high pain tolerance. He has a dark solid line running down his shaft (like the one on his neck), a ladder piercing and a stud at the tip (like a Prince Albert piercing). You couldn’t lie, it intimidated you when you first saw it, your eyes going really wide when it sprung out of his boxers. He laughed above you at your reaction, a lopsided smirk forming on his face. How was that gonna feel inside of you…? “M’gonna make you feel so good baby.” Turns out he was right, it felt fucking fantastic.
Nicknames he has for you include baby, babe, senorita, flower, mamacita when he’s feeling playful. In bed it’s my slut, whore, Thanos’s whore, plaything. “My bitch” when he’s drunk or on strong substances.
Wants you to get a tattoo of his name so fucking bad. Has brought up the idea in passing a few times, seeming not super interested. But in reality he’d find it so fucking hot, especially if it was on a hidden part of your body like your ass cheek, the word “Thanos’ bitch” surrounded by a heart inked into your plush flesh.
Would spank the shit out of that tattoo on you.
Loves to spank you in general, needs to see that ass jiggle when it’s bouncing against his bare hips.
100% records you during sex and loves taking photos of you (whether you realize it or not during the moment). Has an entire photo album dedicated to it <3
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I need to see more of him before the games, that 2 second clip was not enough smh.
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beloveds-embrace · 3 months ago
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rugby player Simon and his pretty little balerina partner. Thats it. Thats whats currently plaquing my mind
Now that you’ve said it I’m thinking about them too because YES 😩 i tried a more headcanony style for this, really had no idea what to write as a drabble
• You first met Simon “Ghost” Riley during an injury rehab session. He’s there nursing a rough tackle, while you’re recovering from an overworked ankle. Despite his intimidating size and silence, he notices how gracefully you move even while stretching, and you can’t help but admire his sheer size even if he’s making the nurses nervous.
• Ghost is, honest to god, shy about approaching you at first; why would delicate, lovely you want someone of his type and build to approach you? But he still gets roped into conversation when you tease him for struggling with a basic stretching exercise. “I’m built for smashing into blokes, not folding like you do.” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound truly bothered. You are sure you can even hear the amusement. And this is how you end up exchanging number and texting, until he finally asky you out on a proper date.
• He’s genuinely amazed at your discipline and talent, often catching himself zoning out while watching you rehearse. You tease him for staring, but he’s truky awestruck by how effortlessly you glide across the floor, almost looking weightless.
• You love watching him play rugby. Seeing him control the field with raw strength and precision is hot. You start attending his matches, cheering louder than anyone else when he tackles an opponent or scores. His favorite cheerleader- his best girl <3
• Ghost introduces you to his gym routines, and you try (unsuccessfully) to keep up with his weightlifting. You love the view of his muscles flexing, though, and you don’t try to hide it. You also love sitting on his back while he does pushups, giving him a kiss ever so often in encouragement.
• In return, you teach him some basic ballet moves to improve his agility to help him. The image of this massive, intimidating man attempting pliés is hilarious, but he’s surprisingly nimble. “Don’t tell the lads, yeah, doll?” he huffs, though his amusement is clear and it has you giggling.
• Simon loves how tiny you feel when he wraps his arms around you. After games, he picks you up effortlessly, spinning you around as you laugh and lean down to kiss him much to the whistles and hoots of his teammates. Neither of you care anyways.
• After a game, he’s all adrenaline and intensity, body taut. You tease him by saying, “Don’t you dare bring that sweaty self near me, Simon Riley.” but he pulls you into a heated kiss anyway, pinning you gently against a wall in the hallways of the stadium.
• He loves when you practice in front of him wearing your ballet leotard. The combination of your grace and your form-fitting outfit gets his heart and more racing, though he keeps his composure… mostly.
• Simon is also your biggest cheerleader during your performances, sitting in the front row with a bouquet of flowers that looks comically small in his massive hands. He always looks proud, even if he doesn’t say much. And he absolutely glares or shushes anyone who is causing a ruckus and taking the spotlight off you.
• He joins you most of the time in the backstages, and when you’re feeling nervous before a performance, he cups your face in his big, warm hands and whispers, “You’re the most talented person in the room. Show ‘em who you are.”
• You return the favor by helping him relax before games. You massage his shoulders and give him little pep talks, which he pretends not to need but secretly loves. Sometimes of them are even recorded on his phone for the very rare occasions you can’t make it to his games.
• Said it before but I’ll say it again: you love how his body feels next to yours- rugby has made him all broad shoulders and powerful muscles, and he loves how delicate your hands feel running over his skin. Likewise, he loves caressing your skin and rubbing creams and ointments to your aching feet muscles.
• He calls you “Twinkle Toes” which sounds sarcastic at first but is said with so much affection that it melts your heart.
• You call him “Big Softie” because, despite his tough exterior, he’s the sweetest with you. He pretends to hate it, but he secretly loves when you use it in private. Had a stupid smile on his face when saw it was how you had your contact for him saved.
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pixelscutz · 2 months ago
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things jjk men say in bed ୨ৎ ! pt 2 .. ft itadori,, geto,, yuta ,, toji
yuji itadori
“good girl, your pussy is all soft and creamy for me.”
“god, your so fucking p-perfect..”
“okay baby, milk my balls dry, i’m all yours.”,
“f-fuckkk, you’re so greedy baby goddd, you look so sexy like this!”
“jesus–mmmph!
“y…yes, ma’am,”
“ohh shit-, is my cock all you ever fucking think about baby? bet you couldn't even last a day without my cock being up this needy, little pussy yeah?”
“y-yeah.. just like that..”
. "i'm — haahh — not g'nna last if you do that again."
"fuck, baby, gonna cum, i'm gonna cum."
"fuuuck, you're so warm... i'm gonna cum soon..."
yuta okkotsu
“hmmm—what a pretty sight,”
“is this good, my love?”
“you’re so perfect.”
“breathe*, love come on.”*
“please, love, i need you.”
“You feel me right here yeah, pretty girl? Tell me –hah– how you feel f’me? C’mon pretty speak.”
“it’s not that bad, baby, can’t we just try again?”
“fuuuckk- more,”
“hah- fine, but ‘m gonna have to…stretch you a bit, baby,”
“gotta get my baby all stretched,”
“mhm- tell me, baby. your pussy’s gonna f- fuckin’ kill me, hah-”
“you look—s-shit! look so pretty like this y/n. pussy feels so fuckin’ good. . . so fuckin’ soft. am i making you feel good? speak up,”
“please, please, please, more— don’t stop, don’t stop, i’ll do anything—”
“i said am thrust i thrust making thrust you fucking feel really hard thrust good?”
“you’re so cute,”
“stop.. ‘m admiring what’s mine..”
“already so wet fr’ me baby, gotta have a taste first,”
“keep your eyes on me love, want you to watch how wet this pussy gets fr’ me,”
"b-baby, don't—ah"
. “god- baby, ‘m gonna cum. can’t.. can’t hold it, lemme finish inside pleaseplease,”
“one more f’me please? You can do that right?”
suguru geto
“ooh, p- princess,”
“ugh- you’re killin’ me here with that pretty fuckin’ arch of yours, y’know that?”
“god- so perfect, look at you, girl. so hah- damn gorgeous when you’re on top, fuck.”
“tch- you’re gettin’ cocky, princess,”
“such a s.. slut,”
“yeah, give it t’me then, baby. don’t miss a fuckin’ drop.”
"princess, you can do better than that,"
"gonna have to be quieter than that if you don't want someone else to hear—"
"c'mon baby, ride me like you mean it,"
"you certainly had plenty of effort when you were sweet-talking those damn monkeys, didn't you?"
"you love this, love it when i fuck you like this, think you want them to see you like this, grinding on my cock like a slut,"
"that's it — you can lie, but your princess cunt can't, baby,"
"that's it, fuck, s'good for me,"
“mmmm- needy one, aren’tcha?”
“c’mon then- heh- mark me. use me. show off that m’yours.”
“anything for my girl. Because m’yours and yours forever and ever.”
. “f- fuuuuck, girl.”
“mngh- slutty girl, look at that ass tryna fuck me back. A for effort, i guess,”
“don’t look away, look at how your face gets when you…hah- slut yourself out on my dick, doll.”
“yeah, give it t’me then, baby. don’t miss a fuckin’ drop.”
“jus’ . . gimme a minute. think your pussy really hah- broke me,”
toji fushiguro
“no needa worry- m’yours, doll-”
“shiiiit- pretty lil’ thing, huh?
“don’tcha know how much m’weak for ya?
“don’t joke with me now, doll, spread those pretty hngh- legs n’ lemme see her. no need to be shy.”
“awww, c’mon **my wife- lemme hear those pretty noises.”
“good girl- good fuckin’ girl takin’ all of me.”
“c’mooon, pretty thing. let’s see that ass show me what it’s fuckin’ made of,”
“mhm- atta girl. entertain this dick girl, entertain- fuckin’- me.”
“ugh- fillin’ you so well gotta getcha niiiice ‘n round f’m again. can’t leave my pretty mama without a.. hah- fill,”
“fuckin’ shit, babygirl,”
“remember when you…hah- used ‘ta ride me like this on our honeymoon? heh, don’t tell me y’er still in love.”
“goddd- those fuckin’ hips. work ‘em, girl, fuuuck . . me.”
“ahhh- touch, but no looking, baby.”
“bratty girl,”
“heh- atta girl, that’s my girl. ‘m all yours ‘n y’know know it,”
“goddamn, i can’t.. feel my legs, baby girl,”
. “can’t stop . . cummin’ fuck-”
“mhm- she’s as nasty as you, babygirl. look at her swallowin’ it all up. so good.”
“no needa worry- m’yours, doll-”
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ditzydoe444 · 13 days ago
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MDNI 18+
jason todd's controversially younger girlfriend ❤︎ ໋𓈒
—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ
warnings: receiving (m), spitting, mentions of anal and cream pie, vaginal sex, age gap: reader in 20’s jason late 30’s
──────────•~❉✿❉~•──────────
you being jason todd’s younger girlfriend had its perks, like clinging onto his strong biceps whenever you went out, your perfectly manicured nails that jason paid for gently scratching his rough skin. your eyes would always light up when you caught him staring at them, “like ‘em jacey?” you beamed, showing the baby pink nails off. you always allowed jason to decide what colour to get. his personal favourite was a soft pink tone, as it always contrasted nicely with your outfits and looked even better when your hands were wrapped around his fat cock.
jason spoiled you rotten, whatever you wanted, you got. the two of you went on weekly shopping trips, you dragging him into every single damn shop whilst trying a significant amount of clothes at the same time. you would twirl in the little dresses and skirts that barely covered your ass, your cheeks slightly exposed at the slightest movement. though jason didn’t complain, he could fight and you looked great, so what’s the harm?
if there was something that jason loved the most it would be seeing you all dolled up like a princess in the prettiest skirts and dresses that he bought, your hair done nicely with your makeup on. best believe you got princess treatment everywhere, it ranged from the small bare minimum things like opening the door, cooking dinner, holding your hand, and the side walk rule. but he also made sure to show you his love and affection through words and actions, complimenting you regardless if you were dressed up or not, making your favourite coffee in the morning to save you time from waking up early, and gently washing your hair in the shower.
the one place where you didn’t get princess treatment, was the bedroom. jason had no shame in treating you like a slut and his own personal toy to fuck and fill with his cum. it ranges from him shoving your head down onto the pillow, your perky ass up whilst he fucked your cunt from behind, making you a whiny mess dribbling all over the pillowcase and chin. “you’re so good for letting me use you like this,” jason grunted as he gripped onto the soft flesh on your hip, kneading it. “m-mph! jacey!” you moaned into the pillow, though it came out rather muffled. jason would use you until he was satisfied, filling up both of your holes, your cunt and ass, making them leak and clench around nothing all swollen. occasionally, when eating you out he would spit on it, mixing his cum with yours and with his own saliva.
jason loved watching you suck his cock, the way your eyes went glassy with tears, your mascara running down your cheeks with your lipstick all smudged around the corners of your mouth, smearing onto his cock was enough to make him cum. occasionally, if you became too lost and dazed, where your movements became slower and more sloppy, your eyes zoning out, jason would pull you away from his cock, sliding his thumb into your swollen lips before spitting in it.
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