#Such an interesting history sniff

[burgojo]

27 CLUB. GETO / M!READER / GOJO

summary. satoru's crushing on suguru but finds out he's got a boyfriend! you are, however, equally dreamy, and if satoru was capable of such introspection, he might realise he has a type...

wc. 9.7k

tags. smut | dom top reader, switch bottom geto, sub bottom gojo; established geto/reader. non-sorcerer + rock/metal musician reader, reader is described as a big guy. skinny gojo supremacy, geto with piercings. somno, riding, doggystyle, exhibitionism, dub-con, degradation/praise, daddy kink (once; r. receiving), humiliation, gojo's a crybaby, edging, frotting, choking, overstimulation, gojo gets passed between reader + geto for a bit

"You brought me to a dive bar? Lame."

Suguru's brow twitches, but he says nothing – outwardly. "You were the one begging me to let you come with. Pick a side."

"I'm on the side of good music. I don't want to hear screeching kids out past their bedtimes."

"You think that's the sort of thing I listen to?"

"I mean," Satoru waves a hand in Suguru's general direction, eyeing his choice of clothes, "your outfit has so many holes in it. You could pass as a rebellious delinquent. Like one of them gyarus."

"I do not—" Suguru inhales, shaking his head; leave it to Satoru to think fishnets and cropped shirts count as clothes full of holes. His bangs sway over his eyes; for the first time in perhaps forever, his hair is loose. Satoru can't take his eyes off it when it shines blue-black under the street's neon lights. "I'm not falling for that again. Now, stop dragging your feet. We're here."

They halt in front of a big, dark block of cement. Its windows are blacked out with curtains, and years' worth of posters pasted to the walls overlap, flaking and peeling until only the fuzzy back sliver of the paper remains. The dates on the posters keep changing – the oldest one is from 1998. The ones on top are advertising weeks in the future, up to a month, and the shitty photo-editing reeks of their garage-band histories and amateurish natures.

One of the posters catches Satoru's attention. A young, attractive woman with dark hair and very few clothes on smoulders at him.

With a question on the tip of his tongue, Suguru approaches his side and follows his gaze questioningly. The eye-roll he gives is so quick it's almost pre-emptive. With a hand draped in black and silver jewellery, he grabs the back of Satoru's collar and hauls him away, almost lifting him clean off his feet. "Goodness, Satoru... Have some decency for once in your life."

"Hey! I thought you'd appreciate me taking an interest in your hobbies. And be gentle with that! It's designer!"

Suguru only lets go at the bottom of the stairs, where the evening light abruptly dims and every surface becomes twenty per cent stickier. Satoru grimaces at the palm of his hand, having caught himself against the wall when Suguru tossed him into the dingy basement like a sack of potatoes.

"This place is a real trash heap," he complains – or shouts, rather. The bass in the music rattles his bones like maracas. The place is less like a bar and more like a club. His sunglasses slip down his nose from the vibrations alone, and he pushes them up with a disapproving sniff. "Why couldn't we stay above ground? There seemed to be a perfectly okay bar up on the roof. Looked real nice and moody, too – good for dates."

"Because up there, they have to actually believe your ID," he says in a tone that adds the 'stupid' at the end for him. Without waiting for a response, Suguru pushes his hands into his pockets and leads the way into the bar. He waltzes up to the bartender, who seems to be between patrons. She dries a rocks glass in her hands. Her head bobs loosely to the beat of the live music.

He lifts two fingers. "Beer, please. Whatever's cheapest."

Satoru makes a noise at the back of his throat.

"It's not for you. Geez, Satoru, the world doesn't always revolve around you," he sighs exaggeratedly and flicks his bangs out of his eyes to meet Satoru's gaze. He smirks. "You want something to drink?" He points at the tiny backboard propped up beside him on the countertop, detailing a range of drinks and their prices. "Here are their non-alcoholics. If it won't make you sick, I recommend the raspberry float."

"Then I'll get that." Satoru leans against the bar in the space between Suguru's stool and the next. He shifts, trying to appear natural, and he places his other hand in the pocket of his jacket. He really doesn't need it in this cramped bar – not with the number of people crowding around, driving up the heat.

At the other end of the room, a large group stands at the base of a raised stage. The trio upon it complete sturdy rock covers of popular songs on the radio. They make for exciting listening, though their sound isn't what Satoru usually goes for.

Suguru flags down the bartender for Satoru's bright pink sugar abomination, and she drops off his two beers with a nod. Satoru doesn't have the time to wonder about them further before Suguru turns to him with a wry smirk.

"Sit down, greenie. You look like an idiot."

"And you don't?" he retorts, but hops up on a stool anyway. He prods the glistening mug of beer closest to him, inspecting the amber liquid within, and lifts his eyes.

What surprises him is that Suguru isn't looking at him – or at his drinks, either. Isn't one of the first rules of going to a bar ensuring one's drinks are always within sight?

He tilts his head, a light crease marring his brow. "Suguru? What're you looking at? Pay attention to me. I'm bored."

"I'm looking for someone," he replies coolly, scanning the crowds near the stage. With a sigh and a slump of the shoulders, he glances over at Satoru with a small smile, resting his elbow on the bar. "Sorry. I'm a little distracted. I haven't come here in a while, you see."

Satoru doesn't see – which is ironic – and wants to ask. But asking means he'll look his way, and that means Satoru won't be able to admire Suguru's pretty feline features for as long as he'd like. He'd get all embarrassed about it and growl at him.

Propping his chin on his knuckles, Satoru traces each curve and plane of Suguru's features with his eyes, committing every line to memory. Suguru won't always be this young, and the dim neon lighting is so nice on his skin, cutting deep shadows across the soft fantasy of his face.

Purple and green. Fitting, for a place called the Viper Lounge.

"Satoru. Your drink is here."

With a blink, he straightens up, and the pretty bartender lady shoots a knowing wink his way. The tall pink drink almost glows under the lights, and the float bobs with the tiny streams of fizzing soda bubbles that rise to the top.

Smiling to himself, Suguru glances back at the stage as Satoru's unyielding attention averts to the bartender, bothering her for a matching pink drink umbrella. The room is painted black, like a secret born to the night, and the stage matches the paint job. It makes its users seem to float several feet off the ground.

He taps his cheek with a soft sigh, fiddling with his brow piercing. His hair catches on it sometimes, but that's the price he must pay.

He watches Satoru absently. Where were you? Had your schedule changed in the weeks he'd been busy?

Then, with the faint echo of the microphone, an all-too familiar voice:

"One! Two! Three! Four!"

The leap from silence into rapid metal is violent. The drums beat lifeblood through veins. Steel shreds the guitar. Bass peels flesh from bone and snaps it back together.

Suguru's reverie shatters like glass.

There you are. Tall with confidence, clad in leather and denim. Your hair's shorter than he last remembers, but wilder, already-damp strands of hair sticking to your temples as if fresh from a romp in the sheets. Jewellery glints under the moody stage lights, and it's hypnotic, the way you charge up the crowd with your voice and your guitar. The amp by your feet is beat-up and worn, having played stepping stool to leather boots too many times, but it explodes with sound. Your sound.

You've got a quartet for a band, all faces made familiar through his connections with you. His heart flutters at the memory of your arm slung around his waist, pulling him into your side as you laugh at something your drummer said.

Satoru's head tilts as Suguru slides off the seat and grabs the two beers. "Suguru? Hey! Where are you going?"

It's too loud to hear him, what with the singing and the screaming and the heavy thump-thump-thump of drunken dancers jumping around. Suguru weaves through the crowd of crying fans – mostly girls; your bassist is your only female member – and it's easy to recognise him, his physical training and broad body letting him part the drunken gaggle just by walking forward and keeping balance.

He reaches the front of the crowd and lifts his face to you, a little smile playing at the corners of his lips. His dark eyes are endless in the shadowy room, and the way he raises the mug of beer feels like the hand of the devil. His tongue toys with his snakebite piercings, the soft pink of it peeking past his lips like a taunt.

During the lull of the song's vocals, you crouch down, avoiding the stares and grabbing hands of dozens of fans. You grip the beer – Suguru's smile widens – and rise to your feet. The rim's already at your lips, and rapid bob of your Adam's apple as you swallow invokes a wave of screams and a chant of "Chug! Chug! Chug!" that fills the bar.

Droplets run down your throat and soak into the collar of your shirt. Your skin glistens. Sweat dampens your throat and the furrow of your brow.

As the melody builds to a crescendo, you slam down the empty mug and launch into the song's chorus, the rough metal gravel of your voice sending more than one fan into hysterics.

Suguru watches the way your fingers fly over the guitar neck with impossible ease, smiling into his beer at the memories of those same fingers wrapped around his neck, his hips, his—

An arm falls over his shoulders. "Suguru! Don't run off like that again! Where you go, I go."

He glances over his shoulder. Satoru's almost shouting in his ear, and some ways behind him, he spots at the bar the empty glass with the pink umbrella balanced recklessly on the rim.

"Sorry," he shouts back, a sheepish, apologetic grin on his lips. "Got carried away. Did you like your drink?"

"Yeah," he says above the noise. "C'mon, hard to talk here! Let's find a booth."

Satoru slips in on one side, and Suguru takes the other. The deep red leather of the seats feels decadent in the low lighting, the same way velvet and jewels go together. Satoru peers over his glasses at Suguru with a shit-eating grin.

"Not gonna lie to you," he begins. "I'm pretty sure that normie over there was eyeing you up like a piece of candy."

There's a twang to his words, and Suguru smiles behind his glass of beer, leaning in and peering at Satoru closely. Nearly imperceptibly, Satoru leans away.

He straightens. "Are you jealous?" he says, almost in disbelief. "No way."

A pause.

"What?" he laughs, waving a hand as if to disperse the very thought from the air. "Jealous? Me? Of him? Don't make me laugh, Suguru. I'm way cooler! And better-looking."

"I'm not sure," Suguru hums, sparing a glance at the fans trying their damndest to touch the singer's steel-capped boots. "For starters, he drinks well."

"Don't say 'for starters' like you're about to dive into a list of compliments." Satoru pouts, crossing his arms. "Is he the person you were looking for earlier?"

"Mmh. He's got a good voice, doesn't he?"

"He sounds like he smokes three packs a day. But you don't care what I think, do you? You've already made up your mind."

Suguru chuckles, vanishing about half of his drink in two gulps. It's rather impressive. "That sound is raw talent and cultivated skill. You sound like you hate him."

"Nah, you're just trying too hard for a guy in some no-name garage band. Did you see his clothes?" He peers over his glasses at his friend. "They're western brands. Not cheap here. He's a total poser."

"But he looks good in them, right?"

"Eh. So-so."

"I bought them for him."

"I mean, they fit well on him. And they match the whole 'rockerboy' thing, but that's more because of you than him."

He hides his grin behind his beer, sipping on what remains to nurse it until your gig ends. Satoru's too predictable.

—

Later, Suguru ventures into the staff lounge with Satoru on his heels. Pleasantly warm with alcohol, he finds you alone by the couch, one boot kicked up on the footstool and an arm thrown over your eyes. Your chest rises and falls slowly with your breaths, and Suguru quietly slips around the furniture to take a seat next to you. He grasps your forearm and lowers it.

Satoru stares.

You're handsome. He gets it now.

One eye cracks open. Your hazy eyes pass over Satoru as if he's not even there – how annoying – and land on Suguru. Your gaze brightens and you sit up, lowering your boots to the ground.

"Oh, it's you!"

Your voice is surprisingly mellow, low and smooth like caramel. Despite your neutral affect – and the fact that you're not even addressing him – Satoru's cheeks warm.

"It's me." Suguru's voice is soft.

You gaze at him a while longer, the pause filled with your bright, contradicting smile. Then you grunt and sit forward with your elbows on your knees, your leather jacket creaking quietly. "My favourite man. What can I do you for?"

"You're too sweet, YN," he says, a flicker of shyness crossing his features. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Your brow furrows and you sigh, glancing aside. "I know, I'm sorry, doll. It's been difficult trying to adjust to my new job – just been dead tired all the time. Anyway – what is this, an interrogation? You gonna introduce me to your buddy or what?"

You cock your head up at Satoru, who stands in front of you with his hands in his pockets. With Suguru to your side and the corner of the room on the other, you have nowhere to go.

Suguru spares a glance at his friend. "Satoru, sit down." He turns back to you. "He wanted to come and I couldn't stop him. Just ignore him. I wanted to talk to you."

"Sure. What about?"

He places a hand on your knee. His nails are painted black. "I really wanna stay at your place."

If Satoru wasn't watching closely, he would've missed the way your eyes widened the slightest bit. He has to commend you – you smother it quickly.

"Tonight?"

"Mhm." He shuffles closer to you. His fingers twitch as he glances down at your hand, as if he has to suppress the urge to take it in his own. "Thought we could catch up a bit – braid each other's hair, do our nails, the whole nine yards."

You blink. "That's... awfully forward of you. You usually dance around these things until I finally figure it out."

His lips twitch up. "I can be direct when I want to be."

"Oh, so you just enjoy riling me up."

"I like what comes after."

Suguru's head tilts slightly, and your faces are an inch apart. His eyes flicker to your lips.

"Of course you can stay, Suguru," you murmur, your expression softening. "I'm glad you came here."

"Even though I'm breaking the rules?"

"My whole shtick is being counter-culture. That includes disobeying rules when they're stupid."

"When they're stupid," he echoes. He smiles, his dimples losing him his tough-guy persona. He bumps your shoulder with his, tucking his loose hair behind his ear. "Are you staying here for any reason?"

You shake your head. "Been paid and everything. I'm just abusing the couch for an air-conditioned nap. The others are going clubbing in a few hours if you want to meet up with 'em and say hi."

"Did you want to go?"

"Nah. I had a killer headache last night and don't want it coming back. Mostly, I planned to bake something."

Satoru can't hold it in any longer. "You bake?"

Two sets of eyes swivel to him where he stands by the fridge, checking out its contents.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to Suguru and stretch, resting an arm over the backrest behind his shoulders. A classic, almost dorky move, and one you do all the time, but Suguru's heart still flutters. "Who is this guy, by the way? Why's he wearing sunglasses inside? You're not cool, dude."

"I have sensitive eyes," he declares, pointing overhead at the bright, artificial white lights. "Name's Satoru."

You raise a brow. "I think you've been mentioned once. Last name?"

"Need-to-know basis."

You narrow your eyes at him.

Suguru interrupts the staring contest, shoving himself into your line of sight. "You said you had a headache. Are you okay?"

You drop the glare and smile at Suguru, squeezing his shoulder. "Mm, don't worry about it, baby. Nothing a few painkillers can't solve."

He lifts a hand to your face, tracing the shape of your cheek with his knuckles. His touch is so light it almost tickles. "If you say so. Don't forget to sleep more. It's not good for your skin."

You offer a fond smile. While swiping a few chocolates from the bowl on the table, Satoru notices how Suguru leans into your touch and how he presses his side into yours as much as he can, thighs and shoulders brushing. He didn't know he was... that sort of person.

Rather vacantly, Satoru thinks he should be more upset right now. After all, he's been pining after Suguru for the past year, and now he finds out that Suguru's got some normie with tight leather pants falling into his bed? He was planning on confessing after Suguru's birthday, but he supposes he should trash that plan.

Fuck. Awkward.

"Hey, Satoru." Suguru's soft voice draws him out of his thoughts. "YN wants to try a new recipe. Wanna come with?"

"You're gonna be my guinea pigs," you agree. Your heavy gaze rakes Satoru's body, and he suppresses a warm shiver. "Or my little white mouse."

Satoru tries to ignore his blush. He straightens, pocketing another chocolate. "You don't care about inviting a stranger to your house?"

"Any friend of Suguru's is a friend of mine." You stand and stretch with a pleased groan that feels far too intimate. "I don't have shit worth stealing, anyway, unless you count my banged-up guitar. It's, like, twenty years old."

"Not old enough to be vintage, too young to be seriously desirable." Suguru sighs, slumping against your side dramatically as you pass through the door together. "Story of my life."

"Ew. Don't joke about that." You glance past Suguru – Satoru's eyes, you notice past the glasses, are an unexpected shade of cornflower blue. "Hey, Baby Blues. How'd you two meet?"

"Hm? Oh, high school."

"Ah, you two are the same age?"

"Same class and everything," Suguru says as you wander towards your car, the keys jingling in your pocket as you try to find the correct one by touch alone. There's a shadow of a guitar case in the back of the car. "Can't get rid of him anymore."

"That just means you always have someone to shout you a drink or two." You pull open the door for Suguru and draw a vaguely round shape in the air with a finger. "Karma's a circle."

"Yeah? And where are you in that circle?"

Swiftly, you shut the door and turn to Satoru, nodding your head in the direction of the car. "Hop in, Blue! You'll be glad you came when you try my tiramisu."

—

Some time later, Satoru finds himself on your soft leather couch, nursing a very flushed Suguru on his left and a less-flushed you on his right. You cackle at his attempts to take the game controller off Suguru, and when Suguru gets touchier in order to body-block him, you can tell from his flustered expression that he doesn't really know how to deal with it when you're right there.

"I'm fine," Suguru sighs, batting Satoru's hands off. He leans in further, trying to push him back, when he persists. "Satoru, you're blocking my view with your big head! It's your fault if I die."

You own a PS2 with a pretty neat collection of games. Suguru is doing less than well with Metal Gear Solid 3.

"Let me have a turn," Satoru pleads, pouting when Suguru expertly weaves the controller away from him. He's had years of practice with it. "I'm so good at stealth games! Lemme try, I wanna go—"

"Just say you wanna impress YN. It's less desperate, man."

Satoru's jaw snaps shut with an audible click. His eyes are so blue that Suguru can see the shine of them behind his almost-opaque glasses.

Suguru smirks and shifts on the couch, tossing his legs over Satoru's lap victoriously. He settles comfortably among the pillows and returns his attention to the television.

"W-What?" he stutters. Did he hear that right? Was he drunk on the tiramisu's brandy?

"It's okay," Suguru says, sneaking past a guard successfully. He smiles victoriously, lip piercings glinting in the light. "I wouldn't mind sharing if it was you. Have you seen the size of him? I can't eat all that by myself."

You chuckle, one arm slung over the back of the couch. In your other hand is a brandy glass, the dark amber alcohol you used in the tiramisu sparkling under the light as you gesture with the glass. "Dunno 'bout that last bit. You try pretty hard to."

"I don't like leaving my meals half-finished. I'm also generous to those less fortunate – Satoru's never dated anyone, you know? I wouldn't want him getting hurt by some selfish asshole because he doesn't know any better. That's why I think you'd be good for him."

The colour of Satoru's face rivals Suguru's. He rubs his cheeks, sinking into the couch. "Stop telling him my life story! You're making me sound really uncool. You're so wasted, Suguru – is this what you're like outside of school?"

"I'm not that far gone," Suguru groans, controller going limp in his hand. He reaches around Satoru to give it to you, which you accept – you immediately start blitzing through the in-game building, attention now completely elsewhere. He levels him with an unimpressed stare. "I could probably take you right now."

"You want to fight me in your boyfriend's apartment?" Satoru squawks. "He made food for you! Control yourself. Gosh..."

"'Control thine emotions'," he mocks. "I'm perfectly in control. You need to admit that you like my boyfriend."

"I don't." Panic drips from his voice.

"You totally do. It's cute – I've never seen you with a crush on anyone. A rich boy liking an underground rockstar? Embarrassing. I've read that manga before."

"No, I don't – I'm not a manga protag—" He cuts himself off, jabbing a finger into Suguru's chest. "I just have eyes, okay? I can tell when someone's, like, visually appealing. You're visually appealing. Doesn't mean I'm going goo-goo over you."

With a roll of his neck, Suguru leans in, propping his elbow on his shoulder. He levels his gaze at him, blinking slowly.

He sucks in a breath. He can smell his honey-scented shampoo. He's holding on by the skin of his teeth.

"A-And," Satoru continues, shifting in his seat. How incredibly unfortunate it is that he's sitting between you and Suguru. Why is that, anyway? Weren't you the ones dating? "You're being weird. Who the fuck talks about this? Like, seriously."

"YN and I talk like this all the time. You're just a prude." He sticks out his tongue, and the flash of a silver piercing studded into his tongue leaves Satoru breathless and shocked. He scrambles forward, reaching towards him, and pinches Suguru's jaw with one hand.

"What the hell is that?" he exclaims, brows furrowing. Memories of the previous conversation are all but gone.

Suguru lifts an eyebrow, glancing aside. He'd almost forgotten how strong Satoru can be. "What's what?"

"That." He shifts his grip, forcing Suguru's lips to part. His tongue flicks against his front teeth, and the little silver ball catches the light.

"A pierthing," he replies, muffled. He lets Satoru, alarmed at their sudden closeness, pull away first with a scandalised blush. Suguru rubs his cheeks and lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, showing it off with a glint in his dark eyes.

Satoru stares. How is his tongue so long?

"Cool, right? I wanted to match YN's look. It makes us look ten times better than the next couple."

He blinks himself out of his daze. "Did it hurt?"

"Not as much as you'd think. I had to get used to talking with it, though – I was lisping like crazy while it healed. I was thinking of getting a septum piercing to balance it out – or just more on the ears."

"You never tell me anything." He pouts. "How'd I never notice it...?"

"You think I don't tell you things? Fine. How about this?" Suguru shuffles forward and drapes an arm over Satoru's shoulders. He offers a lazy smirk and cups a hand by Satoru's ear. "It makes guys feel great."

His heartbeat pounds in his skull. He swears Suguru glances down at his lips – but that could be his woozy double vision. His hair looks so soft...

"Done," you announce, setting the controller in Satoru's lap – he picks it up hastily before Suguru can nab it. He huffs and crosses his arms, empty-handed. "Your turn, Blue. I wanna see some slick action, or we both get to watch Suguru struggle with holding people up."

"I am not that bad!" he snaps. "The controller buttons are sticky."

"A bad workman blames his tools," Satoru says automatically.

He immediately begins to argue.

Hm. You can see why Suguru's so endeared with the white-haired man, especially when he takes off his glasses to blink his huge, glossy blue eyes up at him. He's pouting, Suguru's waving his arms around, and you're certain you've got enough room in your bed for three.

—

In the darkness of your bedroom, you're slowly dragged from the depths of sleep by a weight above you. Your brow furrows, a little grumble falling from your lips, as hands trail down the sides of your face and play with your hair.

"YN."

You release a soft breath.

"YN. Wake up."

Your eyes crack open, and you find yourself frowning up at Suguru's shadowy figure. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you notice that he's not wearing any pants.

He shifts on your lap, face inches from yours. His long hair is swept over his shoulder, slightly messy with sleep. His eyes, however, are perfectly awake, staring down at you with an animal hunger.

"Hey, you," he whispers fondly, barely a breath. He lowers his body over yours even further until your chests press together. You wrap a lazy arm around his waist. "Need you, baby."

"Suguru," you whisper back, only just now noticing the state of your boxers. They're slick and sticky, and you know for certain not all of it is because of you. "How long have you been at this?"

"Five, ten minutes. I don't know. I got impatient." He ghosts his lips over yours, tucking his hair over his ear before he cups your face. "Need you so bad. Need you right now."

"Fuck, seriously?" you huff, shifting slightly so you can rest back on an elbow. "Damn nymphomaniac..."

A body beside you rolls over. You freeze.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was here. Satoru had been insistent on taking the couch, but Suguru's large brown eyes and sweet words had worn him down. When you chimed in to express your agreement with your boyfriend, he'd broken fully, and accepted.

"I've already prepped myself," Suguru breathes, pressing his bare cock against the front of your boxers. He rolls his hips slowly, kissing you equally torturously. "Please, baby? Needa come so bad."

His words are slurring. Usually so put-together, Suguru grinds against your growing bulge with a soft whimper, eyes fluttering shut as his cockhead catches on the cloth.

He's going to be the death of you.

You place your hands on his waist, lifting him just enough to reach your waistband and free yourself from your boxers. Suguru sighs shakily and tucks the band below your balls, batting away your hand to be able to hold it himself. You roll your eyes at his attitude but allow him to admire your cock. He nibbles on his lower lip as he rakes its length with his heavy gaze.

"You're already hard," he teases under his breath, closing his fist around it and stroking it from tip to base and back again in one rough motion. You jump slightly, a hiss slipping out between your teeth. Suguru silences you with a hot kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth as he strokes you and swallows your sounds.

He shifts cautiously on his knees, mindful of Satoru's still body next to him, and opens his hand to slot his cock against yours. He purrs as he tugs them both, head falling against your shoulder as he rocks back and forth atop your lap.

"So good," he whispers into your skin, his hot breath fanning your neck. You can feel him tremble – with excitement, with exertion. His breaths are shaky as he quickens his fist, rutting against you.

He's dripping. Your shared arousal slicks up your cocks, and Suguru's wet palm squelches quietly with every stroke. He shudders out a soft moan, nails digging into the pillow beneath your head.

"Is this what you wanted?" you growl under your breath, hands pressing firmly against his waist and forcing him to grind harder into your cock. His hips stutter. "Fuckin' whore, doing this when your best friend's a foot away from you..."

He swallows a moan as you dig your thumb into his leaky slit. "Y-Yes – yes, I wanted this. 'M sorry for being such a slut," he whines softly, his thick thighs tensing atop yours. His cock jumps as Satoru shifts in his sleep. "Oh, fuuuck..."

You chuckle breathlessly as Suguru leans into you, his slick fist squelching louder as he grinds more desperately into you. You hold your hand in place, formed into a loose circle, and allow Suguru to fuck into it as his tip catches on the ridge of your glans with every thrust.

"G-Gonna come," he whispers against your jawline, free hand tangling in your hair. His little moans feel so much louder right by your ear, and your heart races whenever it pitches that much higher. "Ohh, god..."

"Yeah," you pant, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. You press your palm against his shoulder – his heart pounds through his back. "That's right, dollface. Don't hold back. I wanna see my pretty slut come for me, alright? Wanna have your come all over me."

His rushed, shallow little humps rock the mattress dangerously. You grip the shelf of his hips in warning, slowing him down. He whimpers like an injured animal, pleading.

Swallowing roughly, you wrap one hand around his cock and use the other to grip his plush ass beneath his oversized t-shirt, your fingers digging into the soft skin. He gasps softly and presses into your touch, humming gratefully as you jerk him off, your thumb swiping over his swollen tip.

With an arch of his spine, his arms tightening around you, he comes, his pants and sighs soft and breathy against your skin. He presses his hips against yours, coating your cock and stomach with spurts of hot come.

Your head falls back against the pillow, an exhale escaping your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Suguru collapses on top of you, hips still jerking intermittently, and you can feel his sticky pleasure dripping down your sides in rivulets. Fuck.

Suguru tucks his head under your chin, dragging a thumb down your side and smearing his pearly release over your warm skin. Your stomach tenses under his touch and he smiles, tongue running over his piercings.

"I want yours inside me," he declares, leaving no room for argument. "Don't waste it."

"Waste it?" you breathe. "Waste it for what? You want kids or something?"

His lashes flutter as his gaze lifts to yours, dark and smoky. "Something like that."

He picks himself up and positions himself upright on your lap, shifting on his knees to better balance his weight. He glances at Satoru's curled body and mop of messy white hair, almost glowing in the darkness. Heat swirls in his stomach as he notices how tightly Satoru's gripping his pillow. A wicked grin tugs at his lips.

Suguru grinds his ass against your cock, one hand reaching back to rub the tip and press it against his fluttering hole. He lets the tip catch against his rim, throwing his head backwards and scattering long locks of hair in a cascade down his back. His hole clenches around nothing.

"Feels like you're about to burst," he teases softly, continuing to rub against the shaft. "Your balls are so heavy, too... Please let me have your come, daddy. I want it all inside me."

"Dirty little thing. If you can stay quiet, I'll let you have it," you mutter, bending one knee to give him some support. He grips it, lifting his hips, and slowly sinks down on your thick cock, hole clenching and fluttering around you at the stretch.

"I can, I promise." He exhales shakily, expression twisted with pleasure and pain. "Fuck."

"Take it easy," you murmur, eyes flashing with concern.

He chuckles, breathy. "What if I said I liked it?"

"I'd call you a whore."

"And I'll prove it." With a sharp inhale, his hole swallows the rest of your cock in a single gulp. His thighs quiver, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. His cock throbs, hot against his skin.

"Holy shit," you exhale, eyes wide as he trembles around your dick, his long hair flowing over his shoulders as he stares down at the join of your bodies, fascinated by his own capacity. You can feel every pulse of his heartbeat, every ripple of his silken insides. He's tight as a vice, gripping your cock, and he moans softly as a spurt of precome makes the fit a little easier.

He grins, eyes dazed but focussed solely on you. He moans when you wrap your fingers around his cock, wet and hot, and begins to rock his hips, fucking into your grasp.

"Hard already," you note in an almost condescending tone of voice, twisting your fist and making him suck in a sharp breath. "You're such a pervert, aren't you, Suguru? Touching your boyfriend when he's sleeping, riding him where your best friend could wake up and see how shameful you are... I bet you'd fuckin' come if he watched you like this."

A hand shoots up to muffle his cry. Your cock nudges his prostate and he presses into it, but you keep shifting your damn hips to avoid knocking into it directly.

He's helpless. Why did you know him so well? Why was he cursed to suffer at the hands of a sadist?

"Quiet," you whisper warningly, grip tightening on his hips and forcing him to keep moving. You experiment with a few upward thrusts, meeting his bounces halfway with meaty smacks that feel far too loud in the silence of the room.

"I can't keep quiet if you're fucking my brains out," he hisses, but his aggression melts away the moment you crush his prostate head-on. Briefly, his eyes roll back to show their whites, and he shudders out a broken, muffled moan.

You pat the side of his ass, making him flinch at the sound. "Relax," you huff offhandedly, "I'm not even doing all that much. You're just too much of a slut to notice the difference – a cock inside you, and all your thoughts fly right out the window. You're so pretty, doll. Stop thinking so hard."

"Asshole," he grunts, but doesn't stop bouncing. He throws his head back. "Ohh, fuck me, your cock is so damn good..."

"That's right, baby. Just like that," you groan, his tight slick hole dragging with every lift of his hips. His pace grows unsteady, messy, a creamy white ring forming around the base of your shaft. You quicken your strokes, matching Suguru's shallow bounces, and he gasps your name, cock spurting precome that you smear over his shaft to make the glide easier – filthier.

"Fuck me," he curses, his voice growing dangerously whiny. "Why are you holding back? Just come! Come inside, please, I-I'm so close, wanna come with you—"

You thrust into him roughly and squeeze his cock. He chokes out a sharp gasp, far too loud, as thick come paints his insides white. He spills into your hand, his creamy release running over your knuckles and down his swollen, pulsing shaft. He grips your shoulders, nails digging into your skin, and his sides tighten as his movements slow, each bounce long and slow as he grinds down as deep as possible.

His muscles loosen as he pants, slumping down on top of you as he dips his tongue between your lips. You groan lazily as his piercing bumps your teeth and rolls against your tongue. You squeeze his hip, smoothing your palm over the generous curve of his ass. Your lips smack softly and he shivers, his cock giving one more valiant throb.

In the corner of his vision – the peripherals of his senses – Satoru twitches.

Suguru sits up immediately, to your confusion.

"Baby?"

He hushes you, not sparing you a glance. His gaze bores into his friend's back.

"Satoru?" he whispers.

Like clockwork, he stiffens.

A grin tugs at Suguru's lips. You stare up at him, propped up on an elbow. You don't have his sorcery-enhanced sensitivities – you don't notice that the white-haired figure next to you is breathing harder than usual, or that he's shifting far too much for sleep.

"Satoru," he hums, soft and coaxing. "I know you're awake."

Your heart drops like a stone. Suguru, however, smiles wider.

"Not moving won't do anything, you know."

Then—

Slowly, he sits up. His hair is more of a mess than it usually is. His oversized white shirt has risen slightly and shows off a sliver of pale skin.

Suguru is going to kill him. He's sure of it. His voice is soft and dangerous.

"How long were you awake?"

His head feels foggy, still reeling from shock. "Uh..."

Suguru lifts a hand to his mouth, eyes crinkling with a little titter. He points down at Satoru. "Long enough, I'd wager."

He looks down. His face explodes with heat.

The hard-on strains at the front of his shorts. A dark spot mars the cloth where his tip would be.

Shit. Fuck. He'd borrowed your clothes – so had Suguru – and here he was, soiling them with his envy and desperation. He was such a freak.

"I-I can explain," he stammers, and you can't help admiring the way he seems to swim in your clothes. The elastic in the shorts had to be pulled as tight as possible for it to stay up without help, and even then, they sat teasingly low, showing off his delicate hipbones whenever he stretched.

Smirking, Suguru gradually lifts his hips, eyes fluttering as he pulls off of your cock. Satoru's ocean eyes widen at the sight of it resting on your stomach.

"No need," he says evenly. Satoru doesn't need his Six Eyes to catch the drop of pearly liquid rolling down the inside of his thigh as he leans over to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. It douses the room in a faint golden glow. He bites back a whine as Suguru continues, as if nothing's wrong. "Come here, Satoru."

When he extends his hand, it's like salvation. Satoru stares at his kind, open palm.

He takes it. Suguru's slender fingers wrap around his, tugging him closer. He coaxes him nearer, the way one would with a frightened animal.

You're looking at him. You're both looking at him. Something sick and twisted in him likes it.

"Do you want us?" Suguru says softly. "Or have I read you wrong?"

Satoru swallows around the dry lump in his throat. His lips part. "I... I thought you wouldn't like me that way."

"Oh, Satoru," Suguru croons, lifting a hand to brush his white bangs out of his eyes. "Always so perceptive about everything but yourself."

Satoru's eyes dart away and amongst his jittering nerves, he latches onto the steadiness of your gaze, trained on him. He flushes when you smirk, your bare upper body displayed like a piece of art beneath his stare.

"Who do you want first?" you ask, and Suguru presses himself into your side. You level your gazes at him, and he stutters out some nonsense before falling quiet, pinned beneath your attention. "Suguru's already prepped, if you swing that way."

Suguru rolls his eyes at your choice of words, though he smiles fondly. "Surely he wants you, rockerboy. You're new – a novelty."

"And you're something familiar in an unfamiliar situation. Why wouldn't he choose you?"

"Can't I have both?" Satoru says quietly, though he blanches when your shared attention turns to him. "U-Uh, I mean—"

Suguru turns to you thoughtfully. "Hm?"

Your eyes glitter. "Hm."

—

"That's it, sugar," you chuckle, sliding a warm palm up Satoru's side to wrap around his throat. He gasps as you grip his jaw, forcing his lips to part, and maybe you're stronger than he'd like to admit – one hand on his shoulder, one around his throat, and that's all you need to lift him plain off the bed. His fingers scrabble at the sheets, barely brushing, and in his desperation, he grips your waist. The position only has him arching even further, your cock slamming into his bruised and sensitive prostate.

"Ah, ah, ah," he moans, eyes fluttering and silvery hair sticking to his damp temples. "Ah – Suguru, d-don't watch...!"

You wrench his head up, forcing a cry from his throat. You click your tongue, shaking your head. "Tsk tsk tsk. Look at him. Look, Satoru."

He mewls and obeys despite the hot shame and arousal crawling around his guts. The way you say his name makes him dizzy – not soft and purring like Suguru, not reverential or tense like other sorcerers. To you, he's just a brat, and you're firm with him in a way that nobody else has ever been. Not cruel – just firm.

When Satoru lifts his watery gaze to Suguru, he finds him staring down at the length swinging between his legs. His hole clenches as his thighs attempt to close – to hide himself away. You hiss in pleasure, knocking his knees apart with your own.

"Fuck," you rasp, stroking his lean hip and admiring the way bruises bloom red on his pale skin. "Look him in the eye, Satoru. You wanna make him come, right? We're doing this for Suguru. Don't be so selfish that you forget who you're serving."

"S-Sorry," he hiccups, shakily arching his back and exposing his bare, leaking cock, deep red with want. His gasps and moans are loud, echoing off the walls, almost drowning out the sound of your thighs smacking his ass. "Ah—! S-Slow down, I – nngh!"

Satoru's cock throbs painfully. The cockring you'd placed on him strangles his base, and his heartbeat pulses in his dick. He wants to come really bad.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Suguru's foot nudges his pulsating cock, pressing roughly against it. A teasing smile plays at his lips and he hums as Satoru chases the friction with a miserable, choked noise, whimpering when you drag him back towards you.

"I-I – it feels—" He can't think straight, head spinning like he's been slammed against concrete one too many times. His breath snags on the thick air as your fingers dig into his jaw. Your dick punches the breath from his lungs, dragging the painful pleasure up from deep in his belly. He sniffles softly, hazy eyes welling with crystal tears. "Ahn – Suguru," he sobs, so weak and pathetic even to his own ears that it makes his cock swell within its cage, its tip drooling incessantly.

How cute – begging his best friend for help. As if he'd listen.

"Don't slow down," whispers Suguru, voice like silk. "He can take it. He's the strongest."

That means nothing to you, but Satoru's gut clenches violently. Humiliation curls around his thoughts, burning the fringes of his mind with an electrifying shame.

Suguru slinks forward, sliding his thigh between yours in the mess of legs. His touch flutters over Satoru's warm cheeks and he presses close. You slow your pace to a snail's crawl, dragging against and kissing Satoru's swollen gummy prostate.

"I can't," Satoru whimpers, weak in your hold. He leans into Suguru's gentler touch. "I can't do it. I can't. It's too much."

"No, it's not. Don't be silly," Suguru hums, taking his cock in his hand and making Satoru sob and jerk. He aligns it with his, rutting against it lazily. God, he's got another fucking piercing right beneath the glans of his dick – it catches, smooth and hard, on the ridge of Satoru's tip. His bright eyes lose their focus and his hips twitch. "I'm not letting you go until I think you're done. Just try not to pass out, okay?"

"He won't. He's a good bitch – barely needs any training. He takes me like a fuckin' champ." Your cock punches into his guts and he squeals, his cries high and melodic even as he falls limp in your hands, his fingers scrabbling at your hips and thighs. Suguru moans at the contact, his fist wrapped around both his and Satoru's lengths. "F-Fuck – you're both so damn pretty like this."

Satoru gasps as Suguru smiles and leans over his shoulder to kiss you. Pressed between your bodies, Satoru can hear every wet smack and soft moan of your kisses right in his ear. His cock throbs violently, leaking a constant stream of pre.

Suguru's hands rest on his hips, gently guiding him back and forth between your cock and his. His cock is warm and velvety, and Satoru whimpers as Suguru presses further into him to kiss you deeper with a pleased sigh. Your grip tightens on Satoru's jaw, pulling him into your chest, and he mewls, squeaky little moans falling from his lips as your cock fills him up over and over again, fucking him like he made you angry.

"S-Suguru—!" He can't get the rest of his sentence out before two thick fingers shove into his mouth. His yelp melts into a moan as they press down on his tongue, silencing him.

"Hot," Suguru observes, parting from you to catch his breath and watch the way his friend sucks and drools on your fingers, his cerulean eyes dazed and glossy. "Kiss me again."

You oblige, twisting your hand in his long, loose hair and pulling him towards you. His lips are warm and plush, and his breath hitches as your tongue rolls across his, flicking the silver piercing there. You pull back for air but he doesn't let you, yanking you back in and tracing the length of your tongue with a debauched moan.

Satoru can hear it all. He can't watch – no, not with your firm grip on his jaw – but not being able to see makes everything ten times worse. He feels like a toy, his high withheld and his sight limited. For all his gifts, he still has to fucking turn to see things, and he wishes really, really badly that he knew what it looks like.

He can imagine it clearly. Your faces flushed, your hair mussed. Suguru's delicate features relaxed into a wanton expression, his piercings glinting in the low light as his tongue twists with yours. Your brow furrowed, your lips swollen, as you suck on his tongue.

Desperately, with tears in his eyes, he slobbers around your fingers, gripping your wrist in both hands. Saliva runs down your knuckles and Satoru chokes as you push your fingers deeper, sliding over his tongue possessively. He adapts quickly, muffled moans high and needy as your cock slams into his guts.

He swears you can't be a non-sorcerer. How else could you ruin him so easily? How else are you tracking every little twitch that gives away his most sensitive places? How else are you still going?

You've backed off now, instead staring at Satoru and the way his lips close around your fingers like they're a cock. Suguru, equally mesmerised, licks his lips.

As if you're one being, you remove your fingers from Satoru's slick mouth, and Suguru cups his face and kisses him.

Kisses him.

Kisses him.

He can't think. His body moves on instinct, his teeth clashing with Suguru's in a messy and uncoordinated manner, but he is kind, and he coaxes control from him to teach him how to kiss. Blue eyes made even bluer with the red ringing his lashline, Satoru moans and scratches at Suguru's shoulders, cock throbbing as the ring bites into his raw shaft. Suguru's fingers brush against his tight, aching balls and he blubbers like he's going to die.

"Please," he manages to choke out, gasping and jerking as Suguru scrapes his nails down his dark red length. "P-Please..."

He doesn't even know what he's begging for. More? Less? For Suguru to stop looking at him as if he'd hung the stars? He's a sinful, degenerate mess, he knows it – far from the perfect and powerful sorcerer the world expects. The Gojo clan heir, ruined on something so obscene and mortal as a big, thick cock.

You turn his face towards you, watching the tears fall over the flushed apples of his cheeks. He's so pale that every little touch burns him with lust, and his embarrassment spreads from his cheeks to his chest and down his shoulder blades.

You press your lips against his and he whimpers, a hand shooting up to grip your hair. He kisses back, moaning as you swipe your tongue over his lower lip, and the slick sounds of your lips smacking makes his walls flutter and clench around you.

He's clumsy, but eager. He whines like a puppy, bouncing on your cock, and leans into your touch when your hand smooths over his stomach, shiny and slick with his pre. He pants into your mouth. You swallow his moans.

Firm and swift, Suguru snatches Satoru's chin and pulls his face towards his. He makes an ugly sound as Suguru wraps his hand back around their cocks, forming a loose hole for them to fuck into – Suguru's release is thick and creamy, and it feels filthy when he smears it over both their cocks.

He came! He came, he realises joyfully, relief and arousal flooding his veins in equal parts – he came because of him! Satoru melts into the kiss, lips slick and parted as they pant and moan, sharing hot breaths between them. The air is muggy. Suguru licks into his mouth, hardly human, and tears stream down Satoru's cheeks, his brain so mushy he can't tell your limbs from Suguru's, or his own from the bedsheets.

Barely letting him breathe, you grab Satoru's face and stick your tongue down his throat. He hiccups, eyes rolling back as you grind into his ass and come with a grunt in hot, thick spurts. His toes curl and his lips pout pathetically, chasing yours when you pull back to check on Suguru. He whines and tugs your hair to make you turn those pretty eyes back to him again, your warmth spilling into him and making him yours. You allow it, your tongue running over the slick nubs of his teeth.

Suguru scrapes his canines over Satoru's pale throat, only marred by his blush. That won't do. He drags his pierced tongue down his jugular and across his Adam's apple, made more pronounced by the angle of his neck – Satoru sobs into your mouth, chest heaving as he grips Suguru's hair and feels the sting of hickeys bitten into his fair skin.

Through his tears and dizzy pleasure, he's given back to Suguru, who coos at him and kisses him sweetly – no tongue this time, just their swollen lips moulded together as if they belong right there and nowhere else. He twitches as your teeth sink into his shoulder, decorating his other side with love bites. He's never gonna be able to hide them all.

Passed around like a cigarette, like a whore, Satoru barely realises it when Suguru slips off the cockring – with some difficulty, as his cock, stomach, and thighs are so wet with pre that it makes everything feel like a damn waterslide. The moment it scrapes over his swollen tip, he's crying out and tensing, sobbing as heavy spurts of sticky come spray Suguru's stomach and thighs.

He tries to say their names – because they're so kind, so good to him, he has to say thank you and be grateful because they could've left him there all by himself – but the first syllables of their names devolve into relieved, babbling moans. Suguru strokes his hair, holding him close, as you help him ride out his bliss, your pace gradually slowing as he twitches and jolts in your hands.

As his high peters out, he slumps into Suguru's arms, whining shakily as you pull out with a slick pop. He clenches around nothing, his hole gaping and abused, and clutches Suguru like a lifeline.

You hum, pressing a thumb against Satoru's dark puffy hole and pulling gently. Feebly, it clamps around nothing, and a dribble of thick white come leaks out, joining the mess between his legs.

Man, those legs. He could be a model with a body like that. Despite being taller, Satoru's slimmer than Suguru, and he feels tiny and fragile in your palms, shuddering and trembling. You squeeze his slim thighs, watching his fair skin dimple under your touch like marble, and his muscles twitch, unsure whether to pull away or press into you. He decides on the latter, moaning softly when you grab his ass appreciatively.

"Such a darling," Suguru hums, voice light and adoring as he brushes the tears from Satoru's warm red cheeks with his thumb. "You did well, Satoru."

Giggling dreamily, he nibbles on his lower lip, pushing his cheek against Suguru's shoulder. He reaches blindly behind him, and when he finds your hand, he pulls you in behind him, forcing your arm to wrap around his little waist. He purrs, perfectly pleased now that he's squished between two big, warm bodies. "Yeah...?"

Suguru nods, his long hair falling over Satoru's shoulder too. "Yeah."

Eyelids half-closed and nose buried in Suguru's neck, Satoru follows easily as you lead them to lay down on the bed. When your arm loosens around his waist, however, his hand shoots out with startling speed and accuracy.

"W-Where are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded afraid.

"Bathroom. Gotta get you two cleaned up before it gets gross," you reply gently. He has Suguru to ground him. That doesn't seem like enough, though, because his large blue eyes well up again and his lower lip trembles. His grip tightens around your wrist and you're surprised when it almost begins to hurt.

"Stay," he whispers, slender pale neck craned to look you in the eye. It's covered in bruises and bite marks.

"I'm not leaving," you chuckle, stroking his inner wrist with your thumb. "You're in my bedroom. Nowhere else for me to go."

He shakes his head, stubborn – they're both like that. "Don't care," he whimpers, tugging insistently. "Come back. Clean later."

"But you're the messiest one here, Satoru," you point out, amused, and you don't miss the way he shivers when you say his name. "Surely you don't want to stay that way?"

"Don't care," he repeats in a mumble. He hums as you obey his iron grip and return to the bed, lying down in front of him. He snuggles into your chest, sighing soft and content as Suguru shuffles closer behind him. He feels your arm join Suguru's, resting over his waist. The heavy weight of them combined and the radiating warmth from your chests fade his thoughts into pleasant nothingness.

"Suguru?" you murmur.

"Hm?" His chest rumbles delightfully against Satoru's back.

"I've got him. You can get washed up if you like."

"It's alright. He'll pull me back down, just like you. It doesn't feel bad – I sorta like it. I've been covered in worse, anyway."

You curse under your breath, arm shifting around Satoru. "Do I wanna know?"

"No."

You chuckle lightly, and your next words are soft and teasing. Suguru responds in kind. Satoru's eyes flutter closed, the rest of your quiet conversation becoming hazy background noise as it lulls him to sleep.

Surrounded by warmth – a very human warmth that Satoru's been chasing for years – he can't help curling up like a cat, breathing soft and even as your rumbling voices pass over his head. Yours is deeper than Suguru's smooth, easy cadence, something of your musical talents emerging in the depths of your voice. It makes it easy for his subconscious to follow – at least for a while, before they blend into one lilting track.

Dreams come easy to him. How could they not when this pretty fantasy of his has just come true, tucked in the arms of Suguru and his dreamboat of a boyfriend?

Well, it's like Suguru said: can't get rid of him. He's yours, now – no takesies backsies.

[iamthepulta]

/sucks in breath

..... mining as a corruption

I WANT TO WRITE ALL THESE. THERE'S LIKE THREE PLOTS NOW. WHAT IF. WHAT IF PRODUCTION FUMES ARE TURNING PEOPLE INTO SHADES.

[m0llygunn]

The Blackout (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

Summary: A state wide power outage during the hottest days of the year leave you and eddie getting on each others nerves with only one way to work it out...

Warnings: 18+! smut, mature language, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral (f receiving), p in v sex (no protection), creampie, sweaty sex, porn with plot, both eddie and reader are kind of mean to each other, no y/n. Author’s note: its summer and way too hot out so i wrote this idk wc: 3.3k

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

“Its so fucking hot.” He groans.

“Eddie, if I can’t say I’m bored you can’t say you’re hot.” 

I didn’t say I was hot, I said it was hot.” Eddie snaps, heat driving him to agitation.

“Go for a fucking walk then, I don’t know what to tell you.” You snap back.

The power’s been out for three days, with the outage reaching across most of the state. 

Three whole fucking days during a record breakingly hot summer. 

With the power being out, that means no A/C, no TV, no phone, no radio, no nothing. They’re calling it ‘The Blackout’ by what you gathered from neighbours. It is truly a moment of history that you’re sharing with Eddie, and it’s been fucking miserable. 

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie groans, standing from the opposite end of the couch. “It’s just as fucking hot out there, why would you even think a walk would be a good idea?” 

“Stop being pissy.” You warn. 

He shoots you a glare before pulling his shirt off over his head. Why he even bothered putting a shirt on after his shower, escapes you. The only thing that has kept you both from completely withering away in the stifling, suffocating heat has been taking showers. The only downside of it is that the water heater obviously uses electricity so the water is uncomfortably cold. 

You watch as he crosses to the kitchen.

“Do you think the milk would still be good?” He asks, hand on the fridge door, looking in your direction.

“Why would I know?” You reply snarkily, still mad over him snapping at you. 

“Holy shit, it was just a question.” He groans. “Fuck— and you think I’m being pissy.” He mumbles under his breath as he quickly opens the fridge, grabbing the milk and shutting it just as fast to try and preserve some of the cold air inside. 

“I heard that.” You yell back.

“You were supposed to.” He retorts. You watch him as he sniffs the milk, nose scrunching in response.

“It’s bad?” You ask.

He doesn’t respond, he just starts dumping it down the sink, slamming the empty carton down onto the counter.

It’s been so hot you both haven’t had the energy to do anything besides argue. The first day you both thought it was semi-interesting seeing everything out of power and watching people gathering outside to excitedly chatter about it, but as the remaining cold air from the air conditioner turned hot, it wasn’t fun anymore. Then the bickering started. 

You continue watching him as he opens the fridge again, this time grabbing a beer, and quickly closing the fridge like last time. 

He cracks the can and you can tell from the scowl on his face as he takes a sip that it’s warm. 

“It’s warm?” You ask, purely just to annoy him. You have to admit, his pissy mood is helping with your boredom, he’s serving as quite the entertainment. 

You watch as he slams the can down on the counter.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?” He asks, brows pinched, eyes narrowed in on you.

“Are you being annoying on purpose?” You mock, pitching your voice up into a nasally tone. 

“Fucking stop it.” He scolds, brows pinching even more harshly. 

“Fucking stop it.” You mock quietly, turning in your seat on the couch to face away from Eddie.

You hear what sounds like him gulping the beer before heavy stomps heading straight for you.

“You’re pissing me off on purpose?” He asks. 

Out of your periphery you can see him standing beside you, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m not doing anything.” 

“You are.”

The corners of your lips tug up and as much as you try to stop it, you can’t.

“Do you think this is funny?” Eddie asks bewilderedly, not even the slightest bit amused by you. 

“I don’t think anything about this is funny, Eddie.” You reply, your smile maturing into a smirk.

Eddie huffs, moving to sit back down beside you on the couch, making sure to sit as far away from you as possible. He exhales a deep sigh and you can tell he’s pissed by the way his jaw repeatedly clenches. 

You slowly shift so your feet are up on the couch. Eddie's eyes are set forward, ignoring you on purpose.

Inch by inch you stretch your legs out until your toes are poking him in the side. He doesn’t react so you wiggle your toes, digging them in harder. 

Without even sparing you a look, he grabs both of your feet pulling them on his lap, holding them tightly so they can’t move. 

“Eddie, let go.” You whine as you try to escape the grips he has around your ankles. He ignores you.

You have two choices. You could lay here quietly or you could make things exponentially worse. 

Exponentially worse sounds more entertaining.

You huff a breath and notice the way Eddie’s jaw clenches right after. You sigh, and he does it again. 

You breathe comically loud and you swear you see his eye twitch.

One more sigh and you’re sure he’ll break his little silent treatment, so you let out a soft breathy sigh.

Nothing. Not even a jaw clench this time. You’re positive he’s just trying his best to ignore you now but you know two little words that have driven him up the wall for the last three days. 

“Eddie, I’m bored.” You whine, and sure enough he breaks. His head turns in your direction, eyes burning into you. 

You think he’s gonna say something but instead he pulls you by the feet, grabbing your arm so you’re practically sitting in his lap.

“You’re bored?” He coos, taunting you. He pulls at your limbs, getting you to straddle his hips, your hands landing on his bare chest. 

“Don’t.” You warn, despite your increased heart rate at getting the exact response you were looking for. 

“Aw but my baby’s bored, doesn’t she just want a little attention?” He continues his taunting, looking at you with a faux concern. 

“You’re all sweaty.” You say, feeling his sticky skin under your fingertips.

“Baby, it’s cause you got me all worked up now. Pissing me off on purpose just for a quick laugh, right?” He says, pulling you closer to him with his hands on your hips. “What wrong, sweetheart? Where’s that smile from earlier? Seems to have disappeared now that you got what you wanted.” He teases.

“Wasn’t trying to piss you off.” You huff. 

“Baby, you got what you wanted didn’t you? No use in lying.” He proceeds with his taunt. 

“M’not lying.” You whisper, watching your fingers as you skate them down his sweat slicked chest. When he sternly says your name you look up at him.

“Baby, there’s no way you just said all that stuff without purposefully saying it to annoy me.” He says, cutting out all the coos, teasing, and taunting.

“Oh, so you think I’m annoying?” You say, raising your brows at him. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie groans, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat. 

You watch him as his brows pinch and his eyes squeeze shut to try and calm himself. You're about to speak again to scold him, but his hips shift below yours, his hard length pressed between your thighs.  

“Oh my god.” You gasp. “You’re hard?” 

His eyes shoot open, glaring at you for pointing it out so flagrantly. You didn’t think he was getting this worked up. Truthfully you were just doing this for a quick laugh, not a quick fuck. 

“What did you think I was doing?” He asks, hands squeezing your hips, eyes still burning into you. Evidently you both were on separate pages but feeling his length still pressing into you, you're quickly switching over to the same wavelength as Eddie, but not without a little more entertainment. 

“Accusing me of being annoying and a liar.” You shrill, tilting your head at him. 

“Oh my god, you need to stop talking.” He says, hands pulling you by the cheeks towards his face. He presses his lips to yours and only then you process what he just said.

“Don’t tell me to stop talking.” You say, pulling away from the kiss. 

“Shhh.” He hushes, pulling you back in, his lips pressing back to yours

“Don’t tell me to shush.” You say, pulling back once more. 

Eddie groans, head falling forward to rest against your chest.

After a few deep breaths he pulls away. When he looks at you again, you can tell he’s still annoyed but he’s trying to relax his features.

“Do you want to fuck or not?” He asks, purposefully softening his voice. 

“Ever the romantic.” You scoff.

“Baby.” He says, starting to reduce to a whine.

You find both amusement and pity in him, opting to grind your hips against his. His hands fall to your sides again, guiding you against him. 

“So is that a yes?” He asks, mouth falling open as you pass over his length. 

“You told me to stop talking.” You reply, smile tugging on your lips. You spread your thighs further, dropping your weight onto his crotch and he gasps, chasing it with a deep exhale.

“Talk, don’t talk, I don’t care, just keep doing that.” He grunts, lifting his hips enough to meet yours. 

“Don’t be fucking rude.” You say, lifting your hips from his. When you watch his face, his annoyance falls into desperation and defeat as he attempts to chase after you with his hips before deflating into the couch with a ‘humph’.

"Fuck, please, baby.” He groans, pinching your skin between his fingers with his harsh grip on your thighs. 

“Say you’re sorry.” You demand, hips still lifted from him. 

“I’m sorry baby, let me show you how sorry I am.” He whines, bringing his face to sit against your chest, pressing kisses into your skin wherever he can reach. 

“Fine.” You reply, smiling to yourself as you place both palms flat on his chest to guide yourself as you resume your grinding. 

He lets you continue the glide of your hips against him for a moment before his hands rise to your waist, lifting you up and peeling himself from the couch. 

He flips you, sitting you back against the couch while sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you. 

“C’mon baby, let’s get these off.” He says lowly, fingers tangling in the lace of your panties under your oversized shirt. You lift your hips and he quickly pulls them off, throwing them beside him. 

He grabs your hips again, pulling you to the edge of the couch, immediately connecting his mouth to your cunt. 

You whimper as his tongue licks up your slit, swirling around your clit. He’s quick to introduce his fingers, plunging two inside of you, bringing them in and out at a pace he knows you like. 

“Look at you, all quiet and happy now.” Eddie laughs. You look down at him between your legs and his eyes are focused on you, pupils blown wide and sparkling in amusement as his skin glistens in a sheer sweat. 

You don’t respond to him, you just watch with a slack jaw as his mouth works against you, fingers massaging that sweet spot inside, drawing all sorts of whimpers and moans from your lungs. 

Your pleasure keeps building and building, tension becoming a hot blur inside of you until Eddie’s mouth stops completely. A whined cry escapes your lips as the crescendo of your high is pulled from you. 

“How do you have me showing you that I’m sorry? You’re the one who was purposefully pissing me off.” Eddie questions, brows furrowed. It’s not a sly tease or a playful trick of the moment, it’s a genuine realization that’s just come to him. 

“Eddie.” You whine. 

“No, seriously. You’re the one who started this, why am I sorry?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groan. 

“No.” He retorts, brows pinched. You sink your weight into the couch, exhaling through your nose before looking back at Eddie. 

“Eddie, I was so close to coming.” You whine, bringing your hands to his face to push his sweaty bangs back, trying to will him to continue.

“Say sorry then.” He says firmly, ignoring your hands on his face.

“Eddie.” You whine again. He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly and you sigh harshly bring your arms to your chest, folding them in a pout. “Do you want me to give you a blow job, is that what this is about?” He blinks at you slowly before opening his mouth. 

“I want you to say sorry.” He pushes, refusing to be distracted by your offer. 

“Sorry.” You mumble, annoyed that he’s really making you apologize mid fuck. 

“What was that, couldn’t quite hear you.” He says, smile ghosting over his lips as he turns his ear to you, cupping it with his hand.

“I said sorry.” You snap. His smile turns into a dimpled grin as his eyes bleed pure amusement. 

“Get down here.” He laughs, pulling you down the couch further, wrapping his arms around your back and maneuvering you to the floor.

“Eddie!” You shriek as your body hits the floor, his hands guiding you downwards. You’re greeted with a coolness against your back that feels refreshing against your boiling hot skin. 

“It’s cooler down here.” He says, lowering his face to kiss at your shirt clad chest before his hands grab at the hem. You sit up enough for him to raise the shirt over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you bare on the floor in front of him. 

He sits up, unbuckling his pants, tugging them down.

“Gonna fuck you right here on the floor, baby.” He mumbles, fumbling distractedly with his pants that stick to his sweaty skin. It takes him a while, but when they're finally off, boxers removed with them, he wastes no time running his fist up and down his length before bringing it to your core. 

“Ready, baby?” 

“I was ready about 5 minutes ago before you started fighting with your pant—” You sneer before Eddie pushes into you, interrupting your snarky comment by punching all the air from your lungs. 

“Baby, you really gotta quit that attitude, it’s too fucking hot in here for that.” He grunts, punctuating every other word with thrusts into you.

The stretch of him filling you up and the force behind each jut of his hips leaves your head spinning. 

“Eddie.” You moan, feeling your lost pleasure resurface quickly, tension already building in your lower belly.

Your heavy breathing gets buried under the echoes of sticky skin slapping together with each of Eddie's pistoling movements. His plunging thrusts working his cock deep inside of you, the adrenaline of your non-stop arguing working as fuel for him fervently fucking you. 

Reaching your arms up to him, you bring your hands to his back, grasping for purchase against his sweaty skin, resorting to using your nails to keep you tethered to him as he fucks you into the carpeted floor. 

“You like that, baby? Just wanted me to fuck you, huh? Getting me all pissed off so I can give it to you nice and hard.” He grunts, one of his hands releasing the tight squeeze on your thighs to graze over your chest, the heat of his hand searing your skin, leaving you tingling under the trail of his touch.

“Mhmm” You moan, agreeing mindlessly, lost in pleasure. You look up at Eddie, his brows furrowed in pleasure, mouth dropped agape, hair stuck to his face and you feel a burst of adoration for him. 

“Eddie.” You whine, using your grip on him to pull him down. “Kiss.” You add, and he lowers to you immediately. His lips meet yours, both of you working your lips together in a salty kiss tainted by the mixing sweat of your upper lips. He continues thrusting into you, the new position as he licks into your mouth offering an added friction to your clit with each plunge making you gasp and moan into his mouth. 

“Fuck.” He groans. “Feels so good, baby.” His kisses stop but he doesn’t let his lips leave you entirely, breathing his words into your mouth. 

The sweltering hot knot in your belly grows impossibly tight, each thrust of his hips reaching deeper inside of you while his hot breath funnels directly into your mouth leaving you absolutely dizzy.

“G-gonna cum, Eddie.” You stutter, lower belly tensing so harshly your breathing only comes in harsh pants.

“Cum for me, baby. Need to feel you cum.” He groans.

You let go, body vibrating, and in the heat of the house it feels like everything inside of you is boiling over in an orgasmic haze. Your skin prickles, as Eddie’s thrusting grows more erratic.

You grip harshly against his skin, fingers slipping and nails digging in harder with every final thrust bringing you through your searing high. 

“Fuck. Fuck, squeezing me so hard, baby.” He whimpers, hips meeting yours as he pushes deeply inside of you, balls tensing and cock twitching as he fills you up with the warm milkiness of his cum. He thrusts in and out of you, hips stuttering as he rides through his high before collapsing on top of you. 

His chest pushes against yours with every gasp of air as he catches his breath and you slowly but surely come back to reality. Reality— which is an absolutely sweltering hot, sweaty man on top of you. 

“You’re so sweaty.” You whisper, feeling the stickiness of his face press against your cheek, his hair sticking all over his face and your face. He laughs, the hot air of his breath fanning over the dripping sweat on your neck. 

“You too.” He says, pushing himself up with his arms to look at you. With drips of sweat beading down his temples, bangs sticking in all different directions, every hint of annoyance is gone from his eyes, leaving behind a hazy contentment mixed with adoration. 

“I think you gave me carpet burn.” You say, smiling despite the stinging burn on your back that you only notice now as he shifts on top of you, relieving you of his weight. 

“I think you drew blood.” He laughs, mirroring your smile. He sits up on his knees, pulling out from you with a mirrored gasp between the two of you. 

On his knees, he twists his upper body showing you the angry red lines you drew on his back with your nails. You gasp and he turns back around, looking at you with a knowing smile. 

“Here, sit up, baby.” He says, holding his arms out for you. You take them and he tugs you up, peering behind you at your back.

“Yup, s’all red.” He laughs. 

“Shower?” You say, pulling yourself closer to him. He pulls you up from the floor, slippery grip making you slide from him until he boosts you up, reclaiming a firm grip on your ass. 

“Fuck yeah, we need a shower.” He breathes as he walks you to the bathroom, kicking the door open. 

You and Eddie spent the next few hours sitting in the tub finding salvation from the muggy heat in the freezing cold water that runs from the tap. It was an uncomfortable fit in the small tub but with your knees pressed to your chest, your back to his front, and one of his calves hanging over the ledge, you both sat together, chattering quietly until you both were pruny and ready to get out. 

By the late evening, you were on better terms, arguing reduced to nothing but a playful teasing lilt.

Just as you both started to get ready for bed, the lights turned back on along with the beautiful melody of the air conditioner vibrating from the window. 

The room cooled down drastically, leaving you both happy and allowing for you to cuddle in bed, completely sweat free.

As soon as your heads hit your pillows, with your bodies relaxing into each other as you nodded off to sleep, everything that transpired in the heated power outage reduced to a moment of the past that you two will grow to laugh at over time. 

You did gather one thing though, getting Eddie riled up before sex is extremely entertaining. 

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

One of the girls (Dean Winchester x female reader)

You dress up as a working girl for a case. It brings up some memories for Dean, as well as some new fantasies of you.

My SPN masterlist

CWs: Dean and his history with sex workers, nothing actually happens but Dean's fantasizing. Some seemingly unrequited pining. 18+. 3.7k words

You’re leaned against the side of the Gas Mart, legs stretching long and naked from the high leg of your jeans shorts and the second-hand cowboy boots you picked up God knows where - Dean’s never seen them on you, but he loves them immediately. You’re wearing a sheer red top, tied at the waist to reveal the soft-looking skin of your stomach and to top it all off, a fluffy, short leopard print jacket, that Dean hasn’t pressed his nose into, but can guess exactly what it smells like: dusty, plastic-y and perfect. 

To cut a long story short: you look absolutely delicious, a juicy piece of bait that no blood sucker in the world could possibly resist. Dean sure as hell knows he wouldn’t be able to.

This was your idea, even though Dean had it first, and he’s half sure so did Sam. But they’ve both seen enough early 2000s comedies to know that suggesting you dress up as a prostitute would get them slapped. But then you suggested it, and didn’t even make it a big deal. Just shrugged, said: “the vamps clearly have an MO. So I should be the bait, dress up accordingly.”

Sam and Dean made a big show of gallantry about how they couldn’t let you do this, how it was too dangerous. You just raised your eyebrows, a cheeky smile on your pouty lips. 

“No offense,” you said, “but I don’t think you’re their type. Not that I wouldn’t pay for the privilege to see you try.” Your eyes roamed over both of them, and while Sam scoffed, then chuckled, Dean couldn’t help but wonder if you really were imagining him in some skimpy, slutty outfit. He sniffs, now, pushes the thought away. Maybe something for another day.

He sits there now, in the driver’s seat of the Impala, his brother next to him, parked far enough away that they can see you but won’t scare away any potentially fangy customers. Both brothers are quiet in the dark of the car, watch you there in the light of the gas station, the way you pop a wad of gum, smacking your cherry red lips so practiced, so perfect, so much like the real thing that Dean wonders, not for the first time, where the hell you learned this.

He knows where he learned it. Learned about this type of woman. They called them hookers back then, but he’s pretty sure that’s not the word you’re supposed to use anymore. Sam would know, but he’s not about to ask him. Because there’s some things his little brother doesn’t need to know.

Dean grew up in the weird intersection of not having a single woman as constant in his life and wanting to fuck pretty much every one of them he came across, his budding sexuality something he suddenly came upon, no warning, no guidance. Only ugly bathrooms, TV blaring in the next room, doing it dry, then with lotion, once with soap that got into his urethra and made him sure he was gonna pass out. Life was just an endless string of faceless women, and that was even before he started having sex. Waitresses, hotel maids, neighbors in adjacent rooms. And the hookers. Prostitutes. Shit, he’s not sure which, but they were a constant.

They were sweet to him and Sam. Especially when they were kids. Short skirts and high heels and bra straps and sometimes wigs, but also when they stayed somewhere for a little longer, they knew him and his brother by name, would praise him for taking such good care of Sammy. He’d grin at them, and they’d tell him he’d be a heartbreaker when he grew up.

So now there you are, the sweet girl he’s had his eye on, at least until you joined Sam and Dean full time. Relationships are something fleeting to him and he can barely stay interested. Any woman he gets close to, really close to, is assigned a familial role - mother or sister. He knows there’s something deeply fucked up about that, but he’s too fucking old to change.

He keeps watching you. The gleam of the light reflected on your skin. The way you lean to accentuate your tits and hips. The slight flutter of your eyelids to seem attractive and like you don’t give a shit at the same time. There’s something so innocent about it all. Something pure.

“I’m gonna go see if there’s anything on the other side,” Sam says into the quiet dark, and Dean just barely nods, only half listening. He hears Sammy move, the frame of the car squeaks and then the door, opening and shutting. He’s too busy staring at you.

Sam’s got this whole thing about not paying for it, but Dean doesn’t really get why he’s so uppity about it. Sure, he loves the chase - a low lit bar, drinks, that connection in the air. The kissing. He really, really loves the kissing. But the truth is, it also fills his gut with anxiety. He knows he carries a certain appeal to women, and it’s not often that he’s rejected. He manages to be forward without being creepy and he’s pretty sure he does a good job once he gets down to business too.

But the simplicity of the transaction, the clear lines - there’s something about it he misses. He hasn’t done it in years, not even sure how he would do it anymore. Is all that stuff online now? Or could he still find someone in a motel lobby or a parking lot?

There is one experience he often goes back to, when he needs a little inspiration. She was older than him. He must have been maybe twenty, so it’s hard to say now how old exactly, because to him everyone past thirty seemed ancient at that time. But she wore a wig, he remembers that, blonde so bright it was almost white, short, revealing her slender neck, a little heart tattoo just under her hairline. Had soft lines around her eyes. She smelled of menthols.

She took him to the room she worked out of. Told him to lie on the bed. She took his dick out of his pants and when he reached for her, she tutted, pushed him back down on the bed by his shoulders.

“That’s alright, sweetie,” she said. “Let me take care of you, okay?”

In a way, Dean knew what she was doing. Getting him close with her hand so she wouldn’t have to fuck him for long. But he just couldn’t seem to care. When he finds a hook up, there’s so much he needs to do. He wants the women to have a good time, remember him fondly. 

But this woman, kneeling on the bed by his hips, jerking him off, she was taking care of him. Her hands were soft and slippery from the lube she’d used. She kept muttering sweet things to him, calling him sugar and honey and other things.

He was close to coming when she stopped, reached for the condom. Rolled it down on his erection, making a whimper escape him from the sensitivity. Then she climbed on top of him.

She told him how good he felt and how hot he was, but Dean knew it wasn’t real. Still. She was doing it for him. Yeah, she was being paid. But there was something about that. It felt like kindness.

He takes a deep breath, still watching you. Those vampires don’t seem to be in any hurry. You switch your weight from one leg to the other, roll your shoulders. Sigh, and Dean can see even from this distance that you’re getting bored. He grins. 

The image comes to him without warning. Him, coming out of the Gas Mart, the same one he’s looking at now, maybe just tugging away his wallet or looking at the receipt. You approaching him from the side and he looks at you, alerted by the movement. He’s only mildly surprised to see you’re wearing the white-blonde wig in his little fantasy. You smile at him, lip gloss freshly applied, eyes wide and lashes flicking suggestively at him. 

“Hey there,” you’d say with that sweet voice of yours.

Dean’s hand wanders to his crotch, rubs along the rough fabric of his jeans. He shouldn’t, and he’s not gonna, of course he’s not. He’s just teasing a little, just pushing down on the feeling, but he’s not gonna do anything. He leans his head back, eyes still half open. It makes you blurry in the low light in the distance. But you’re clear as day in Dean’s head.

“Hey yourself,” he says, a small smile on his face. He’s not about to act shocked that you come to talk to him. He thinks it must be pretty darn scary walking up to random men at a gas station in the middle of the night, so he wants to make sure he doesn't make you nervous.

You pop your hip, one hand going to it, allowing him to take in your body, your shape. You’re fucking gorgeous, the prettiest he’s ever seen.

“Looking for some company?” you ask, a little smile tugging at your lips at the cliché sentence, but the truth is, Dean likes it. He purses his lips, looks to the side, then back at you.

“What if I was?” he asks, teasing, and you smile at that, take a step closer to him and Dean gets just a whiff of your perfume - cheap and sweet.

“Then I’d say you just got extremely lucky,” you reply, a broad grin breaking over your face. Dean can’t help himself but chuckle a little. Both of you are going through the motions, but it’s clear that this is a sealed deal. He nods.

“Lead the way,” he says.

You walk ahead of him, and it gives Dean a chance to stare at your ass, your waist, the bit of your neck he can see with your hair tugged into the wig. And more of your smell. He’s not embarrassed to say that that alone is enough to make him chub up. He presses his hand against himself. Does the same in the Impala. But he’s not really there.

You get to your room, unlock the door, push it open. Don’t turn on the light when you do and Dean steps in after you. It’s bright enough to still see you - these places always are. It never gets fully dark out here, always some neon light buzzing, a headlight shining in. It makes you look ghostly, highlights the parts of you he can see.

Dean closes the door behind him, then steps closer to you. You take the time to shrug off your jacket, and while Dean’s kinda sad at the loss of the cheap material, he loves what he sees underneath. He can see the outline of your bra, a severe push-up number, under the sheer shirt. More skin. 

He stands close, so close you’re almost touching but not quite, looks down at you, you up at him. It’s quiet in the room, the tension between you drowning out all background noises. Only breathing. He hears the wet noise of your lips pulling apart, the cheap lip gloss separating.

Your hand goes to his chest and you begin pushing him back. He follows the movement until the backs of his legs meet the bed. He plops down on it, and all of a sudden he’s looking up at you, not the other way around. 

He raises his hand, carefully. Lays it on your hip. Runs it down, slow slow slow, until his fingertips touch the skin of the back of your thighs. It tickles you and you shift in place, and that grin is back on your face.

“Lie down,” you say. “Lemme take care of you, honey.”

Dean lets go, then shuffles back on the bed. Lies down, head meeting the knotted pillow the motel can’t be bothered to replace until it’s fallen apart. His hands go to his belt as he undoes it. Pops the button of his jeans, then opens the fly before he rests his hands on his chest, lies there and waits.

You appear in his periphery, and he’s not sure where you came from. Dean looks up at you, the way the low light frames you so beautifully. Without breaking eye contact, you climb onto the bed, kneel next to him.

Your hands go to his jeans, and he feels himself twitch in anticipation. You drag down his pants and his underwear and then your hand goes in and you take him out. Your lips part and your eyes go from his face to his cock. You bite a little at the bottom one and then you begin stroking him.

It’s testing, a little too dry, but honestly, Dean doesn’t care. He feels himself harden in your hands, watches as your chest rises and falls. You like this as much as he does.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” you say and Dean nods, his hair scratching against the pillow under him. “We’re gonna take our time, take it slow.” Dean swallows. Young him doing this would be terrified at the clock running out and not being able to pay in the end, or needing the money for food or anything else, and he really doesn’t want some scumbag pimp on his case. But he knows he doesn’t have to worry about that with you. So he nods.

“So nice and hard,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, so low in fact Dean misses some of the softer consonants, but his brain fills in the missing parts. “Gonna take good care of you, baby.” 

His breath shudders, stomach clenches. Your movement is smoother now, your hands gliding, and Dean’s not sure if it’s his pre-come or if you got lube from somewhere, but he couldn’t care less, because your shirt is suddenly gone. He can see the globes of your breasts unhindered, looking endlessly soft. He reaches his hand out, runs it over the left one, the satiny fabric meeting your satiny skin. Fucking perfection. 

You lick your lips, pick up your speed a little and Dean’s eyes flutter shut, just briefly.

“Fuck,” he gasps under his breath at the slight twist of your hand, holding him just a little tighter than is comfortable, but he loves it this way. 

“You’re so good, Dean,” you say and he blinks his eyes open. “Feel so good. Just relax. Just relax. Let it happen.”

Dean groans, feels the first tug in his balls, the pressure in his stomach. It’s accompanied by buzzing pleasure, but he has just enough wherewithal to not let it take him immediately.

“Can we–?” he says but you shush him.

“I know exactly what you need,” you say. “Don’t I always know what you need?” And Dean can only nod, because of course you do.

You slow your movement, then stop completely, giving him that strange floating feeling he gets when suddenly the stimulation is gone. But it’s not for long.

You’re naked, suddenly, except for the wig, and Dean doesn’t know when that happened, nor does he care, because you raise your leg, straddle him, the impossible soft insides of your thighs pressed against his hips. He kinda wishes you were still wearing the cowboy boots, but he doesn’t have time to focus on that, because your fingers go to your mouth as you collect some spit, bring it to his cock and the feeling of your warm saliva nearly makes him roll his eyes up into his head.

Then you take him in your hand, line him up and start sinking down on him. There was no need for the spit since you’re warm and wet, and that’s about the last coherent thought Dean has for the night. 

You moan loudly as you sink lower, envelop him, the most intimate embrace. Dean’s hands go to your waist, to steady you as much as himself, because this? It’s the best he’s ever had. 

Your hands rest flat on his stomach and then you’re all the way down, Dean buried as deep inside of you as he can go, and a soft shiver goes through you, one that Dean can feel where he’s snug inside of you as well as hear in your soft gasp and see in the dreamy smile on your face. You could be moaning and frowning and screaming his name, but right now, he wants you all soft and happy.

You start rolling your hips and Dean needs to press his head back into the pillow again, your wet heat dragging along him, the walls of your pussy kissing his cock. A soft whine leaves you too but when Dean looks up at you again, you’re still smiling. 

His hands are still on your waist and he uses the hold to push you back a little. You understand a second later, lean back, one of your hands going to his leg instead. He can look at you perfectly this way and from the slight way your eyebrows go together he knows the position is having exactly the effect he wants it to have.

“Oh fuck, Dean,” you gasp, surprised by your own pleasure, maybe. Dean lets one of his hands wander lower as you concentrate on riding him. He presses it close to your entrance, where he’s appearing and disappearing inside of you, the fucking most perfect sight in the world, and when some of your wetness transfers to his thumb, he brings it up to your clit, presses against it.

It makes your movement stutter, makes you gasp, and then you find your rhythm again, a soft chuckle leaving you as you adjust to his touching. 

“Baby,” you say and now it’s Dean shushing you. He wants you to concentrate on how good you’re feeling, not on singing his praises. 

You keep going, keep rocking against him, and then your noises start becoming louder. High noises, feminine noises, soft, girly noises, sounds he’s never heard you make in real life, hiccuping. Dean feels you grow tighter around him, warmer, and he picks up the flick of his thumb, the fingers of his other hand pressing into your skin. Despite the fact that the position is so perfect, you lean forward again, hands on his front. Because you want to look at him.

You’re going fast now, mouth open as you keep his gaze, sweat building on your chest and on your brow. Dean just keeps helping your movement, keep the rhythm, keep it steady.

He reaches one hand up, his index and middle finger connecting with the strands of the wig, pulls gently and it drops off you. Your real hair opens from how you rolled it up to get it in, falls and it’s really you, all of you, there on top of him.

“Right there,” you gasp, you fingernails digging into his skin and then Dean pushes up into a sitting position, arms going around you as he holds you tight, thrusts up at you and you cry out, one hand on his shoulder, one in his hair, and holy fuck, you’re about to come, he’s about to make you come for the first time ever. He presses his mouth against the skin between your perfect tits, drives up hard and then for a moment you sound like you’re in pain, shaking, then no sound and then the loudest, longest moan he’s ever heard, and he’s right behind you, just a little more, just one more thrust, one more and–

Dean flinches at the knock on glass, eyes flying open, heart punching him in the nipple for a second with how hard it’s beating. He looks to the side, and it’s Sam, arms widening in what is clearly the sign language equivalent of what the fuck. Dean looks down - no, his jeans are closed, and although his hand rests dangerously close to his crotch, he doesn’t seem to have made a mess.

Well, the other reason he can tell he didn’t come is cause he’s hard as a rock. 

He rubs a palm over his face, sniffs, just as Sam rounds the car, opens the door on the other side. Did he fall asleep? Is that what happened?

“Dude,” Sam says, just as he folds his long body into the passenger seat. “We’re on a case with vampires and you decide this is the perfect time for a nap?” Dean opens his mouth to sass right back, when the door to the backseat opens too and you get in. 

No wig, no cheap perfume, but you duck your head, scoot to the middle of the bench. Dean swallows, awfully aware of the circus tent he’s sprouting. 

“Get off his ass, Sam,” you say, taking off the leopard print jacket - the t-shirt underneath is a lot less sheer than Dean remembered, plus no sight of tits pushed to the high heavens. You reach for the jeans jacket you abandoned and lay it over your shoulders. You push the leopard number away with two fingers. 

“That thing was giving me an allergic reaction,” you say, throw a quick smile at Dean. He huffs.

“What, uh, what happened to the vamps?” he asks, looking at Sam. He takes a deep breath, sighs. 

“No sign of them,” he says, shaking his head. “Looks like we’re back to square one.” You lean forward, arms crossing over the backseat of the car.

“Maybe my acting just wasn’t good enough,” you say, raising your eyebrows at Dean in a self-deprecating manner. All he can do is grin.

“They’re missing out, is all I can say,” he says, not aware how that sounds before it’s out. 

He can feel Sam throwing him a confused, potentially disturbed, look, but Dean doesn’t care. Because you look surprised and then amused.

“Mmh,” you say and then Dean needs to turn around, get the car started because he’s pretty sure if he keeps looking at you he loses any chance of hiding his erection. He turns the key, Baby starting to purr under him, and starts driving her off the lot. 

Only once the lights of the gas station are far behind he dares to look in the rearview mirror. You’re leaning against the bench, looking out into the night. There’s a soft smile on your lips and when you suddenly turn your head, look back at him and meet his gaze, Dean swears he can feel you back in his lap, where you belong.

[dykeadvocate]

vampire!abby x reader HCs (NSFW & SFW)

CW; blood kink (obviously), mentions of killing, mentions of wounds, restraints, strap-on sex, vibrators, somnophilia, pantie sniffing, eating out on period, fingering, CNC.

A/N; i love writing about monster fucking so much

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

• abby is insanely possessive over you. she'll fight any vampires and she'll kill any human that takes an interest in you.

• whenever you're around other vampires, she makes sure she leaves visible puncture wounds on your body as she needs everyone to know that she owns you.

• her stamina is crazy in bed. she could go multiple rounds without breaking a sweat.

• abby enjoys restraining you while she feeds. sometimes she'll tie you up and hold a vibrator to your clit, or she'll hold your hands behind your back and help you ride her dick.

• she isn't much of a dirty talker. she occasionally whispers praises in your ear, but besides that she just makes noises.

• since she doesn't sleep, she enjoys watching you sleep. she likes seeing how peaceful and innocent you look.

• sometimes when you're sleeping she gets so horny that she touches herself whilst watching you. her fingers don't feel as good as yours but she get desperate.

• she's trimmed. she sometimes waxes but after living for hundreds of years she tends to not care.

• she's adapted to modern language but sometimes uses old english words. she gets slightly embarrassed when this happens because it makes her feel old (which she is), but you think it's cute.

• since your body needs at least a days rest, she pulls you into her lap and sniffs at your neck. if she can't taste your blood, she wants to smell it.

• she has so many personal stories about big events in history. you love listening to her ramble.

• she loves holding you. if you're both sitting down, you're in her lap, no matter where you are. she also refuses to let you sleep without her holding you to her chest.

• although she doesn't like to admit it, she likes it when you hold her too. she likes to lay on your chest so she can hear your heartbeat.

• she fucking loves when you're on your period. it's like her favourite time ever. this woman will be in between your thighs for hours every day until your period is over. she loves the taste of your cum mixed with blood.

• she loves it when you bleed so heavily that it leaks into your underwear. she'll keep them in her pocket to sniff it throughout the day.

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 3: Missing Moments

a little something for @bucktommypositivityweek 💜 tommy POV after their first date + buck calling about meeting for coffee

**

Tommy's not moping. He doesn't mope. Especially not over a relationship that wasn't even a relationship yet. It was one date. Arguably less. Half a date with a guy he's hung out with—if he's counting very generously—a grand total of four times.

A blip, as far as relationships go. He has more history with that guy he used to trade semi-frequent blowjobs with who's saved in his phone as Nose Ring.

...Come to think of it, he should delete that guy's number. They haven't spoken in years. He's pretty sure the last text in their message history is—yup. Dick pic. From Nose Ring. They'd gone six months without contact, then he sent a picture of his penis and nothing else. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to be even vaguely interested, and there's been no communication since.

And that's really that's the problem, isn't it. His dating history is riddled with guys like that. Dead-end hookups and bad dates with people he didn't click with no matter how much he tried to force it. And people who just...didn't care enough. Then Evan...

Alright, he's moping a little bit. He's only human.

He's been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much since he got home. It's not late enough that he's tired, really, but he's also exhausted. In a soul-deep sort of way.

It was nice. He had a nice time, sitting across from Evan, letting him stutter his way through all the usual first date talking points like he was reading them off a list in his head. It was cute, how seriously he took it, how he'd pause and smile and get that soft look in his eye when he was listening to Tommy talk.

It would have been so easy to be greedy and keep spending time basking in that warmth he seems to radiate. Evan was clearly willing to push himself way past his comfort zone, but. Tommy wasn't. Isn't. His stomach twists just thinking about it.

But maybe he's being selfish either way. He wants more than Evan can give him, so he's pulling away completely, retreating before he can get too deep into planning a future Evan isn't ready for.

He sighs, feeling around next to his pillow until his fingers close around his phone.

Maybe Evan will reach out again. Some day. Eventually. Once he's more at ease with himself. Or maybe Tommy already ruined what could have been before it even started. Probably safer to just assume the latter. Restrict himself to hoping they can still be friends after this.

He scrolls aimlessly through his contacts. There's quite a few numbers in there that he should delete. Names he's not sure he recognizes anymore. Ones he wishes he could forget.

For some godforsaken reason he still has Sam Westbrook in here. Just reading the name puts a pit in his stomach. He doesn't remember everything about the three horrible months they spent together, it's mostly just flashes. The taste of too much beer on his tongue, saturated and clumsy in his mouth. A sharp smile and a sharper suit, always pressed and starched and better-than-you.

Tommy was newly out and far too hard on himself about how difficult it was. Guys like Sam seemed to sniff that out, made his personal shame all about them. It didn't always work, but Sam was particularly good at it. He always left Tommy feeling gutted and guilty and far too willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him the next time they saw each other. It's not a relationship he likes to think about.

But it's a reminder that he did the right thing tonight.

And...

Maybe he'll call Evan. Not yet, not right away. Tommy needs time to square away his own messy feelings, but maybe in a couple weeks. Just to let Even know he's. Around. If he needs someone to talk to about all this.

They can be friends. He'll make it work.

He deletes Sam's number, and tosses his phone aside.

Two weeks.

—

It's only two days later when his phone rings, Evan Buckley written across his screen in big white letters. He stares at it through five long buzzes while his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

This...wasn't the plan. And to make matters worse, he's at work. He catches one of his coworkers side-eyeing him curiously, and that pretty much guarantees he'll have at least three people ask him what was up with the phone call before his shift it over.

Well. He should at least give them something to gossip about. A guy called me and I watched it go to voicemail isn't much of a story.

He swipes to answer, before he can make himself any more nervous.

"Hey."

"Tommy! Hey!" Evan's voice crackles a little through the phone with a surprised intake of breath, like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches. "H-how's it going?"

Tommy spent four hours yesterday taking apart his neighbours' lawn mower because he'd convinced the man it was making a weird noise and he could fix it. There was nothing wrong with it, but he checked every inch anyways, and put it back together well-oiled and exactly as pristine as it was before. That morning he'd gone grocery shopping with a paper list and his phone at home so he'd stop obsessively combing through all his files trying to find things to delete.

So, he's having a very normal week, clearly.

"Good," he says instead of explaining any of that. "I'm actually at work right now, so—"

"Oh crap, I forgot you were working today, sorry. I—I can call back later if you're busy."

"No, it's okay. Slow day so far." He pauses. "One might even say qui—"

"Ah, don't jinx it!"

Tommy snickers. Apparently Eddie wasn't exaggerating. He's known a lot of superstitious people, but most of them didn't take it this seriously. Evan sounded less panicked about flying directly into an actual hurricane. "Right, the dreaded Q-Word."

"Did you hear about the power lines that fell on our engine?!"

"Yes." He'd seen the pictures too. Pretty much everyone had, the 133 were sending them around all day after they took that call.

"And then some guy stole it later that same day, y'know. It was a terrible shift."

He'd heard about that too, but not that it was the same station. Damn. "Alright, alright. No tempting fate."

"Well. Good. Too many things can go wrong with helicopters."

Tommy squints up at the rafters, feeling unbearably fond. Like he's full of something warm and syrupy and too big for his chest, like he's spilling sunlight between his ribs.

He should ask why Evan called. Polite check-in after their date ended so abruptly? Another storm he needs Tommy to fly into? Metaphorical or otherwise. Hopefully it won't involve stealing anything else. They got way too lucky the first time for Tommy to trust it working out again, and he kind of likes his job.

He slips his free hand into his pocket. "How are you doing, Evan?"

"Oh." He lets out a soft exhale that comes through as quiet static. "I, uh. Good, actually. B-better, um. Listen, are you free tomorrow?"

Tommy stops breathing, lungs seizing for a long moment before he very carefully reminds himself how to use them. "Yes."

"I wanted to. Talk. To you. Um. In person, preferably."

This really wasn't the plan.

But it's fine. It's more than fine. It's...

He'll just have to deal with wanting to kiss the living daylights out of someone who's off-limits, it's not like he's never had to do that before. If Evan needs something from him he's not about to say no, he just didn't expect it to happen so soon, if it happened at all.

"I, uh, would've just popped by your house unannounced, but I thought this might be more polite," he continues, a teasing lilt in his voice. Tommy purses his lips against the smile threatening to overtake his face. "Also, I don't know where you live."

"You could've asked Eddie."

"Oh, so you're saying I should have ambushed you then?"

"No, that's very rude. Who does that."

Evan's delighted laugh is bright and infectious, and has him grinning at his feet, sunlight spreading down to the tips of his fingers.

"So, coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Alright."

"Cool. Awesome. I'll text you the details?"

"Cool," he echoes, purposefully deadpan. "Awesome."

He can hear the smile in Evan's voice when he pretends to be offended by the mocking. It's there all through their goodbye too, and Tommy finds himself coiled up around his anticipation at the thought of seeing that smile again.

It's going to be a long 18 hours. But it's worth the wait.

[hells-wasabii]

hii, hope you're doing well. May I ask for alastor x reader where reader is way more powerful than alastor? and weird thing for al is that r didn't sell their soul to anybody or make a deal, they just slayed and managed to become very strong overlord just by themselfs. Could be fem or gn reader, please

Thank you, have a nice day/night <33

A/N: I went with a gn reader, wasn't too sure how to incorporate a specific gender into this one, but i hope you enjoy!

Character: Alastor

Type: Headcanons (Alastor x stronger reader, General)

Now, this was certainly interesting! It seemed to Alastor that history really did have a way of repeating itself! Just like himself, a new soul had arrived in hell and stirred up quite the commotion! And during his seven-year absence no less! You were one powerful demon, quickly rising in the ranks of the overlords and eventually even making your way to Pentagram City. Only where Alastor had stagnated in power by himself, you kept rising. You were stronger? Than him? Now he really was interested.

But what intrigued the radio demon the most was the source of your power. Where did it come from? He had heard the rumors that you had no souls, but that just didn't make any sense to him. Not in the slightest.

Souls equal power, plain and simple, whether it means obtaining the souls of others or selling your own. but you had done neither. quite the anomaly you were. He just knew that he had to meet you!

The moment that he even stepped into the same room as you, the radio demon was filled with a sense of dread. He could feel the power radiating off of you. Alarm bells rang in his mind, he knew you were a danger. But this also meant that he knew exactly who you were when he saw you. The overlord with no souls, power with no strings attached. You certainly did not disappoint, that was for sure.

Now, Alastor was not a demon to form alliances, but one with you would he certainly wouldn't mind making an exception for. Whatever he could do to get close to you. He'd sniff out any possible opening and poof, suddenly the radio demon was ingrained in your afterlife.

He would be looking for any opportunity to worm his way in, trying to find out why exactly you were so strong. Trying to get you to make a deal. It didn't matter to him if he had to start small, as long as he could get in it was a start.

He knew one thing for sure. You were exactly what he had been looking for. He had to add you to his collection. And he would do anything to have you.

[wihellib]

The first 4 kings already met Minhyeok.

Do you think the other 3 kings (Lulu/Belph/Asmo) would like him? or hate him? or just neutral?

As a recap of the Halloween event and the meeting between Minhyeok and the first four Kings:

Mammon thinks Minhyeok is interesting, but in a child/pet sort of way. He mocks him by saying that being MC’s oldest friend is the only thing Minhyeok got from them. But Mammon also acknowledges that, because of Minhyeok’s history with MC, he should be civil and kind to him. Minhyeok gives him chocolate and Mammon ruffles his hair before leaving.

After Beelzebub saves them from angels and learns that Minhyeok is MC’s childhood friend, he sniffs all over Minhyeok’s body and realizes that he smells like MC and that really pisses him off. He grabs Minhyeok by the hair and starts lifting him off the ground and asks, “How can this human still smell like MC?” Ppyong pleads for his friend but Beel only releases him after Minhyeok explains that they smell similar because they stayed in the same space for over a decade. Beel still isn’t happy but muses that he can always change MC’s smell himself. Like Mammon, Beel also thinks Minhyeok is interesting and ruffles his hair after Minhyeok gave Beel chocolate and referred to MC as ‘my MC’. Like Mammon (again), Beelzebub mocks Minhyeok for the platonic nature of his relationship with MC.

Leviathan comes to save Minhyeok, thinking he was MC (because his smell is similar). He tells (threatens) Minhyeok to cherish MC after they return to Earth (but not be too close to them). Levi reasons that since Minhyeok is MC’s guest that means he’s also a guest of all of Hell so he welcomes him… and then immediately tells him to go home. Leviathan leaves before Minhyeok can give him chocolate. As a side note, Leviathan was much more subdued in this encounter than I thought he’d be.

Satan is not happy about MC’s closeness with Minhyeok. But he sees how much MC misses Minhyeok so he puts aside his jealousy and arranges for Minhyeok to come to Hell for Halloween. Satan saves Minhyeok from the angels and praises him for making it all the way to MC. He good-naturedly punches Minhyeok in the shoulder and kicks him in the butt, saying that this is how men become friends and welcomes him to Gehenna. Satan tells Minhyeok that it’s time to go back but says that he can’t take him because he has to stay to protect MC. Minhyeok earns Satan’s respect by showing his protectiveness over MC when he says that he understands and to please continue doing that in the future. Satan decides to give Minhyeok his powers temporarily as a goodbye present by kissing him.

So from most positive feelings towards Minhyeok to least, we have:

Satan —> Mammon —> Leviathan/Beelzebub

Technically, Levi should be above Beel based just on this encounter, but we also know that in other parts of the game he’s much more combative about Minhyeok.

Now, moving onto the three other Kings:

Asmodeus loves humans and I think he’d be a big fan of Minhyeok. He’d immediately suggest a threesome between him, MC and Minhyeok. MC better hope they’re nearby in order to act as a distraction, otherwise Minhyeok is getting his virginity taken by Asmo.

I think Lucifer would be pretty neutral. Polite and civil, mainly for MC’s sake.

To me, Belphegor wouldn’t care about him. He’d be asleep mostly. Beleth would have to tell him about Minhyeok and their encounter later.

So, including my predictions, from most positive feelings towards Minhyeok to least, I think that we have:

Satan/Asmodeus —> Mammon/Lucifer —> Belphegor —> Leviathan/Beelzebub

[sunandflame]

Shards of Glass, Chapter 9

Summary: Kyojuro Rengoku, History Teacher on the Kimetsu Academy, is constantly having strange dreams about a Slayer who looks exactly like him. He thinks nothing of it until he recognizes a very specific person from these dreams and feels a very unique connection to her.

Pairing: History Teacher Kyojuro x Teacher Fem!Reader

Trope: Reincarnation / Sequel to Flame and Water (can be stand-alone)

Word Count: 3851

Warning: smut

Pinterest Board of Shards of Glass

Crossposted on AO3

Masterlist of Shards of Glass

“Could you take in two strays who were caught up in the rain?”

He looked at her in shock and immediately stepped aside to let her in, which she did. She was the last person he would expect here, but he wasn't expecting anyone at this late hour. He closed the door behind them and studied her, noticing how wet she was from the rain. Her hair stuck to her face and she shivered noticeably. Something black jumped out of her arm and immediately explored the area until the cat ran along Kyojuro's legs and purred at him.

So that was the second stray she was talking about. Kyojuro smiles at the feline and kneels on his haunches to pet the cat who is immediately smitten by him. The moment he looks up at Y/N his face turns serious as he rises up to clasp her arms in both of his hands. It’s obvious that something happened but he does not dare to ask, not now when she was shaken.  “You are freezing.” He rubs her arms to create warm friction. “How about you first take a shower while I make you some hot chocolate to drink?” Y/N nods with teary eyes and he leads her into his little bathroom.

~ ~ ~

The warmth of the water jet was a blessing to her chilled skin. She had surveyed the bathroom and had noticed how sporadically everything was arranged, as if he had just moved in here. She noted the two bottles that were on the floor of the shower and smelled them before using them. Amber and pine trees. An interesting combination, but one she had already smelled on him. She remembered the first time when his scent hit her nose as she stood close to him while they talked. She had to resist the temptation to move closer to him and sniff his neck, knowing how odd that might have looked. The fact that she now had the chance to use his shampoos and smell like him made her blush. Especially when she slipped into his hoodie and sweatpants after showering. She couldn't help but bury her nose in the soft material and sniff the soothing smell of Kyojuro.

She couldn't help but think of how he had looked at her earlier. His eyes wide in surprise. His golden-red waves that were in a messy bun. His white shirt that was so tight around his muscular pectorals, showing off the definition she never noticed before and oh god… Those gray sweatpants that sat so dangerously low on his hips. She felt the heat go to her head again and was about to jump back to take a cold shower, but this wasn't her apartment. She was only a guest. Y/N took a deep breath and looked into the bathroom mirror for a brush and combed her wet hair with it.

Shimizu purred and constantly rubbed against his legs as he prepared the hot chocolate on the stove. As he stirred the dark liquid with the spoon, several thoughts ran through his mind. What happened to her? Why was she outside at this time? Threatening herself with sickness? Why was she crying? Was she hungry? His thoughts were interrupted as he saw a figure from the corner of his eyes.

“She seems to like you a lot.”

Kyojuro turned to her and saw her standing at the door frame. His clothes were definitely too big for her, her eyes still puffy from crying and yet she looked beautiful. To see her in his clothes like this stirred something deep inside him and he felt his cheeks growing warmer. “Yes, it seems like it. I like her too.” He looked down at the feline with a smile and reached down to scratch her under her chin. “Just make yourself comfortable on the couch. I will come in a minute and then we can talk. If you want.”

She nodded and seated herself on his couch. Kyojuro seated himself next to her and handed her the cup. “Here, this should warm you up.”

With a grateful nod she took the cup and sipped on the hot chocolate. He didn't know why, but he watched her closely as she closed her eyes in pleasure, running her tongue over her upper lip. “Delicious…” she sighed out and gave him a smile. “Thank you very much, I really needed that.”

“You are welcome. If you need anything else, let me know.” He smiled back at her.

“Thanks, but I think the hot chocolate should be enough for now.” She took another long sip and remained silent. Kyojuro didn't know what to say either. What was he supposed to say anyway? She was the one who came to him drenched from the rain with troubles weighing on her shoulders.

The silence became more oppressive until Shimizu jumped between the two of them and meowed very loudly. They both looked at her in surprise and then started to laugh. “I’m sorry Shimizu, I should have offered you something too.” He got up and the feline followed him immediately. He put a bowl with water and some cooked rice that he had from the day before and watched how she started to eat. As his gaze turned back to Y/N, he saw her staring at a picture that was on the drawer. He went there and gave her the frame. It was a picture of his family.

She picked it up reverently and looked at it closely. “Senjuro and you took after your father. It’s like he copy-pasted himself.”

Kyojuro’s smile turned nervous as he scratched the back of his neck. “Yes, the Rengoku genes are actually very strong. This hair color goes back to the Sengoku-era.”

“Really?” She looked at him in surprise and chuckled. “I need to confess something. The first time I saw your hair, I thought that you dyed the tips red, but then I met your little brother in one of my classes and realized that it must run in your family. I always wondered if it was your father or mother.” Her gaze went back to the picture and her smile softened. “Your mother is so beautiful.” 

“Yes she is…” But his eyes were not on the picture, but on her. How she held it carefully in her hands, as if she knew how important it was to him. She put it carefully back and sat down on the couch, her smile dying out slowly. 

Her gaze became distant while she tightly grabbed her mug. Kyojuro was visibly concerned, still debating if he should ask her what happened. The silence did not make the situation better as the worst scenarios were going through his head until he decided to finally ask her. 

“Y/N… Why were you running so late outside in the rain? Did something happen…?” He didn’t dare to finish the sentence.

“Everything is fine…” She gave him a smile to reassure him, but this smile didn’t reach her eyes. 

He scrunched his forked eyebrows. “You are a bad liar.”

Now she couldn’t hold it back any longer and started to laugh. While she laughed, he was able to hear her pain and the tears that she was not able to shed anymore. “But probably still better than you.”

Now he couldn't help but smile at the inside joke that had developed between the two of them. “Y/N you know that you can talk to me, right? You are my friend and my confession didn’t change that fact..”

You are my friend.

I love you, Y/N.

Those words still lingered in her mind. "Kenji and I… We were fighting a lot the past week. The fights became bigger and bigger..." She finally spoke.

"He did not-" Kyojuro was assuming the worst.

"No, no," she immediately corrected him. "I... broke up with him..." She was still not looking at him. 

Kyojuro was surprised and he should be sad about hearing this. A break up, especially if someone had been together for such a long time, must be painful. He remembered how heartbroken he always was in his past break ups. A long silence occurred before Kyojuro decided to open his mouth. "I am sorry to hear that."

She put the mug on the table and leaned back to turn her head to him. "Are you really, Kyo?"

His eyes were now fixated on her plump lips that called his nickname so seductively. So inviting... imploring even. But he stopped himself before turning his golden red hues onto her eyes. "No, I am actually not." 

Was it her who came closer or was he moving towards her? He really shouldn’t do it. He really shouldn't take advantage of her in this situation. The air was filled with tension, the longing was in both of their eyes. 

“Kyo…” Her lips were whispering his name, waiting for him to finally make a move. Fuck it, he thought to himself and took her face in both of his hands and kissed her. Their lips clashed together and something inside them was like ‘finally’. As if his soul had been waiting for it over 100 years and was so desperate for her. The kiss turned hungrier and the sensation was so exhilarating that it strictly stirred his cock, which already started forming a tent in his gray sweatpants. 

It didn't make it any better when she grabbed his hair and desperately pulled him closer so that he fell on top of her. His hardened dick pressed against her. Only the thin layers of fabric separated them, but not preventing the delicious friction that made them both moan into the kiss. “Kyojuro…” Her voice is so whiny and desperate for him that it evoked something primal in him. 

Kyojuro felt as if a flame had ignited inside him, a flame that had been smoldering from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Now it was burning bright, consuming any lingering doubts and restraint he had left. He eagerly kissed her back, his tongue exploring her mouth while his hands gripped her waist tightly. His lips didn’t leave hers as his hands wandered down to her waist and hips. “Not here.” He was not sure if he said that more to himself than to her. It did not matter as he quickly stood up and grabbed her waist, to pick her up. Y/N immediately wrapped her legs tightly around him, kissing his lips, jaw, neck and everywhere else she was able to reach. That elicited a groan from him, making him dig his fingers into her thighs, where he was holding on desperately. It was hard to focus and if he didn’t have an ounce of self control he would have simply fucked her against the wall. However, this was their first time together so he opted to carry her into his bedroom.

Once in his room he draped her slowly onto his bed, his mouth wandering from her lips to her neck where he sucked and kissed the sensitive skin, eliciting all those sweet sighs and moans from her. He moved away from her, his body hovering over hers, to take a little to look at her. Again the sight of her in his clothes just made his heart clench in a way he never expected. His hands roamed over her body and pulled the hoodie over her head. He stared longingly at her bare breasts. Her nipples were already hard and eagerly pointing at him as they begged him to suck on them. He couldn’t take his eyes from her, before he snapped out of it as he realized that she was blushing under him. “Gods… You are so beautiful…” Murmuring words that were so familiar, creating a flashback in the back of his mind where he had said something like that before, but that didn't matter. What was important was that they were both here in the now.

There was something so intimate about being laid bare in front of him, seeing the desire and admiration in his eyes as his hands roamed over her body. Her blush deepened under his words, and she gently pulled his head down towards her chest. “Kyojuro… Please touch me…” She wanted his touch, nearly burned for the sensation his warmth gave her. He didn't need to be told twice and lowered his head down to take her nipple into his mouth, circling the hard peak with his hot tongue. The sudden shock of his touch sent waves of pleasure through her body and made her lower lip quiver. Her gasp only spurred him on further. His hand moved down to her waist, sliding under the fabric of her sweatpants to caress the sensitive skin there. He could feel how wet she was through the fabric, and the thought of it made him harder, if that was even possible.

He could feel the growing need to be inside her, to feel her from the inside, and the realization that they were on the same page seemed to fill his mind. He watched the response from her body and how she writhed under his touch. Those gasps and moans that he so craved; he wanted her to make more of those sounds. More, more, more… His hand on her waist began to slowly pull her sweatpants down, revealing more of her skin. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in every inch of her naked form. It was like being mesmerized by the most beautiful work of art in the world, and yet, it was the fact that this beauty was his to experience, to explore, that made it so much more intoxicating. 

He began to slowly undress himself as he watched her beneath him on his bed. His gaze was like a physical touch, as if he was already trailing his fingers over the skin he could see. He wanted to make her feel just as wanted and worshiped, as he continued to slowly strip, revealing his toned body. She couldn’t take his eyes off him. His hand moved down and gently caressed her inner thigh, the touch gentle yet possessive.

"Gods, you are so beautiful."

He could hear how she gasped as his mouth moved down her body, and the sound of her voice only made his body react more to her. He lifted his head a bit, looking at her flushed face, and watched her lips part as she took a deep breath while he spread her thighs apart. He could already see her glistening folds, so beautifully exposed to him. The sight sent a wave of desire through his body, and he had to take a moment to gather his own self-control as he leaned down closer, his breath ghosting across her sensitive skin.

“So beautiful," he echoed, his voice thick with need, "I want to taste you…"

Without giving her time to respond, he lowered his mouth to her core, his tongue swiping across her sensitive flesh in one slow, languid motion. The taste of her was so sweet, so intoxicating, that it took all his self-control not to just devour her right then and there.

As he continued to lavish attention on her, he felt her hands in his hair, gripping and tugging at the strands. The pain and pleasure of it only added to his own arousal, and he groaned against her skin.

"You taste so sweet…" he whispered, "I need more."

He continued to explore every inch of her, his lips and tongue relishing the sweetness and warmth of her body. As he listened to her moans increase in volume, he intensified his efforts, his tongue moving with more purpose and pressure, trying to draw out as many of those delicious sounds from her as possible. And with each lick and stroke of his tongue, he felt her legs shaking and trembling. He could tell how close she was to the edge, and he kept going, determined to bring her over that precipice. Her gasps and moans fuelled him as he worked his mouth between her thighs. He wanted to make her scream his name, to hear her come undone beneath his touch.

As her moans grew louder and more desperate, Kyojuro knew she was nearing her climax. He continued his assault, not letting up, determined to push her over the edge. He felt her thighs tremble and constrict around his head as she neared her release.

"Let go, my water lily" he murmured against her skin, not knowing where the pet name came, "Let me hear you come…"

And as if it was a command she cried out his name, pulling at his soft golden locks. “Kyojuro!” His heart nearly stopped as her voice, screaming his name, filled his ears. He could feel her body tense and shudder as she came, the sensation of her fingers in his hair sending a jolt of satisfaction straight to his core. He continued to gently lick and suck at her, drawing the orgasm out as long as possible until she finally collapsed back against the bed, completely spent.

He slowly pulled away, his lips and chin glistening with her juices. He stared down at her, admiring the sight before him, the view of her trembling body and flushed skin. The beautiful sight of her coming undone because of his efforts, all because of him. It filled him with a sense of pride… and an overwhelming need for more. "So exquisite…" he murmured, his eyes skimming every inch of her body. The sight of her, so undone by his touch, was enough to make him throb with desire.

He moved up her body, his lips moving along her stomach and over her chest until they found her mouth. He kissed her gently, letting her taste herself on his lips and tongue. His body was still throbbing with yearning, and he was fighting hard not to just push himself into her right then and there. But it was not him, but her who took the initiative. The feeling of her legs wrapping around him instantly spread an unsung fire through his body. He leaned down and his lips found the skin of her neck, kissing and sucking on the sensitive spot behind her ear. His hands roamed over her figure, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its track. He groaned into her skin as his hips involuntarily ground against hers.

"I… need you, now," he whispered huskily.

He could feel the slickness of her against his stomach, and it only increased his need to be inside her. He shifted slightly, his hands gripping her hips tightly, and lifted himself up to position himself between her thighs. His eyes locked with hers as he slowly pushed his cock into her, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he held himself back. The sensation of her tight, warm walls surrounding him was almost overwhelming. He buried his face in her neck groaning how perfect she felt. As he slowly started to move his hips, he felt as if he was losing his mind. The feeling of being inside her, having her completely at his mercy was almost too much to handle. He leaned down, his lips finding her neck as he nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin. He was lost in a hazy fog of ecstasy, the sound of her moans and gasps in his ear driving him to go deeper, faster.

His own control slowly slipped away as the pleasure consumed him. His hands roamed over her body, touching and exploring every inch to memorize the feel of her flesh underneath his fingers. He lifted her legs around his waist, getting a better angle and the new position drove him even deeper into her. And he continued to thrust into her, the pace and force increasing with each movement. He was completely lost in the moment, his mind completely overtaken by the pleasure of feeling her completely. His lips found her neck once more and he nipped and sucked at her pulse, leaving behind a trail of love bites in their wake.

Mine… his mind whispered fiercely, possessiveness creeping into him.

As he continued to dominate her with his body, he could feel her tremble and quiver under him. The sounds of her moans and gasps, the feeling of her body's response to his touch, it only fueled him to go harder, deeper. He could feel himself nearing his limit, the mounting pleasure becoming nearly unbearable. His breaths were labored as he tried to hold back his release, continuing to move his hips with each deep stroke. But the way she felt, her skin against his, the sound of her gasps and moans in his ear… it was too much.

"I'm… close…" he panted, his grip tightening on her hips as he tried to hold on just a little longer.

He could feel her body tightening around him, clenching and gripping him as if she was desperate to keep him inside. It was an incredibly delicious sensation that only added to his mounting pleasure. With each powerful thrust, the coiled heat within him grew stronger and more intense.

"I'm gonna…" he gasped, "Oh Gods… I'm gonna come…"

“M-Me too..!”, she cried between her moans as he felt her tight grip on him. Her voice sounded so desperate, needy and it was all it took for him to lose any remaining control he had.

He leaned down and his lips found hers, his tongue delving between hers, tasting her moan as he pushed himself deeper into her one final time. With a low, guttural groan he let go and succumbed to the pleasure, his body shuddering as he came hard, releasing himself inside her. He held himself there as the release hit him, his body shuddering and tensing as waves of ecstasy washed over. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breaths ragged and unsteady as he slowly came down from his high.

He collapsed on top of her, his body trembling with exhaustion and satisfaction. They lay there for a few moments, both of them trying to catch their breath and come back down to earth. He nuzzled his face into her neck, pressing soft kisses to her flesh as he tried to form words. But it was not possible. They simply stared at each other, her hand roaming over his face and pushing a blonde strand behind his ear. 

A profound, unspoken connection flowed between them. Their eyes locked in a gaze that spoke volumes more than words ever could. They marveled at the raw intimacy they had just shared, a sense of wonder filling the space between their breaths. Still panting from their lovemaking, their hearts seemed to beat in unison. Their shared silence was suddenly broken by soft laughter, a tender, joyous release that bubbled up from the depths of their souls. The giggles were not just amusement, but a shared acknowledgment of the beauty they had found in each other. 

A/N: Hello, my sweethearts! Who would have thought this story would ever get an update? (Not me!) I know it’s been a while, and I’m deeply sorry about that. Everyone who has been following me knows that I’ve been going through some real-life stuff, but things are getting better. I’ve been constantly thinking about this story and how much I love the plot I’ve built here, and I don’t want to disappoint anyone. But forcing myself was a big no-no, which is why it took so long. Again, I’m really sorry, and I hope I can make it up with this smutty smut. Since there’s no regular schedule for this story, please reply if you want to be tagged or not. Much love, your (Mommy) Sunny <3

Taglist: @flametrashira @mamayan @love-me-satoru @camilo-uwu @genshinsimpforlif @curlyblaze @oggy4god

[sethdomain]

the narrative that c!tommy used c!techno is kind of diabolical tbh, people often forgot that c!tommy is fresh out of exile and doesn't consider the place that he's in.

He's running on pure instinct, fresh from suicide attempt and running from his abuser and the only one he can confide in is c!techno the criminal that destroyed his home country. Despite their history c!techno still took him in, but why? He could of just kick c!tommy from his house and let him run lose in the tundra of snow and let him survive on his own while c!drm sniff over his trails of footstep. But he took him in and protect him from the looming threat of his abuser.

And its sad, its very sad that even if c!Techno took c!Tommy in he used it as an opportunity. An opportunity to use c!Tommy as a pawn in his quest for anarchy. Now, you might be thinking, but c!techno took him in, take care of him and even defended c!tommy ,why are you painting him as this heartless villain that used an abused child for his own gains? Frankly, I try not to and maybe its also in the way i'am awful with articulating my words into something that make sense. I truly do not think c!Techno is heartless and his relationship with c!tommy does have a sincerity in it.

But I think my main point is that, there was a power imbalance between c!tommy and c!techno that people often overlooked. Like I said c!Tommy is fresh out of exile n traumatized n stuff and he's in a weaker position and his only hope in escaping his abuser is c!Techno since he is the only character thats is deadass near logstedshire and also one of the most powerful people in the esempi.

And also I just do not think painting an abuse survivor trying to find help as an act of... That, is a nice message you know 😁 haha- not to get real and get to the implication of stuff- but ahahaha, yk haha. ANYWAY.

I don't think c!techno is a heartless monster, like I said i think his relationship with c!tommy has sincerity within it. I think as time goes on, i think techno grew actual care toward tommy evidence by his interaction with tommy as time goes on growing more closer and affectionate and his strong reaction when tommy left him for tubbo.

But still, c!Techno treats tommy more of a pawn in his quest for anarchy, you also have to remember that he will send off c!tommy to his abuser again without a second though if c!drm used his favor. Of course, if you were in c!tommy place, why would you stay with a guy like that? He goes againts everything you stand for and you don't even know if you're safe with him. Maybe because he saved your life? Do you really owe him that much that you are willing to destroy your home and even fight your own best friend for him? Was it all transitional? Do I worth anything? Do I not matter as a living breathing human being? Am I not worth of safety?

I just wanna talk about my feeling about c!tommy and c!techno relationship in post-exile arc, because i think i find the narrative a bit icky if you are maybe a survivor of abusive relationship. I also wanna talk about the interesting bit of sincerity their relationship actually kind of have, that despite c!techno using c!tommy as pawn he does actually cares in the very end. Which is sad to think about

[rinasdigitaljournal]

journal entry #01: sevika drabble/imagine...potential fic?

take my hand and walk with me here, okay?

imagine, high school teacher sevika who teaches an specific country's history. maybe african american studies along with south asian...just something that relates to her and her background and she's hella passionate about it yk. obviously coming from (and still living) an under privilege neighborhood comes with its challenges and now dealing with wealthy people drives her up a wall but the students actually enjoy her class and have a genuine desire to learn and find her gruff, no-nonsense, give it to you straight attitude a breath of fresh air from the posh and authoritative teaching that they are used too (although some don't but does she care, no.) the parents don't really understand why so many students genuinely enjoy her class when she's like scary asf? and most teachers in the department look down upon her bc of her background but hey, the credentials and degree's speaks for themselve (plus they're too scared of her to say anything directly too her). her one friend in the department is mel who teachers african american studies but AP level bc mel's just that girl, ANYWAYS.

the two are chatting one afternoon in the teachers lounge and mel casually mentions the new english teacher working and how interesting she was too talk too. sevika tried to pry a little bit more but given how tight lipped mel is (and her cocky smile), she genuinely didn't give a fuck until her students begin coming to class with this new teacher on the tip of their tongues. how she's so sweet, kind, funny, and the work is interesting? yea, she has to go sniff the newbie out herself just to make sure those knuckle heads aren't ripping their teeth into her. she's already envisioning some soft, big doed eyed, fresh out of college teacher with no actual teaching experience and letting those kids walk all over her.

so imagine her surprise when she takes a peak into..paradise? a cozy and comfy classroom with a colorful rug, throw pillows, bookshelves lining up the wall with poorly but cute hanged up novel posters with a mixture of string lights nad lamps? yea, sevika already decided the woman was fresh meat thrown into the wolves until her eyes found their way to a woman sitting next to a student, on a small makeshift couch mind you, with her arms wrapped around the crying girl's shoulder. the woman was still soft looking with a grandpa sweater on along with a maxi skirt, the colorful glasses didn't help either or the dangling star and moon earrings but her voice was warm and firm. her eyes were gentle but full of fire and her lips were turned into a genuine smile with a smirk edging the corners of her face. whatever joked she shared made the student laugh and wipe her own tears away and when the new teacher turned to stare at sevika, feeling a presence staring into her, with an arched brow in*challenge* her presence, she could've sworn she felt her heart skip a beat.

journal footnotes: could this be something...maybe. do i have another work in process fic for another fandom, yes. do i still imagine this plotline and characters every single hour of my being...yes. is this self indulgent, yes, but hey this is a form of self-care.

[amphitriteswife]

Teacher (and subjects) head cannons!:

(I’m from the netherlands and the school here has a different grading system. Also collage and highschool are one thing. So highschool is 4,5 or 6 years depending on which grade you get on tests and stuff in elementary so please bear with me)

Poseidon:

You would think that he would teach biology but you would be wrong. He would teach Physics or some high level math.

The type to not let anyone in after the bell rings

Doesn’t care if you end up dead in the class you will not go to the bathroom during his lesson

Stands by the door to make sure you put it in those phone pockets thingy

Gives the most homework out of all the teachers

Wears formal clothes, always. Suits, blazer, slacks ect.

You will never catch him on a bad hair day

If he catches you cheating on a test, you can say goodbye to that grade because he will give you a zero.

He does sometimes turn a blind eye if you’re on the brink of not passing and don’t choose his subject. (You do need to be on the brink. So not like a 3 or sum)

Hates electronics so he just wants everyone to use a paper and the book. No laptops.

Only talkes to some teachers like Hades and Thor

Students think he’s either the worst or just eye candy

Has won the the contest of best man titties by students

People actually ended up crying in his class and he didn’t give a damn

Sends people out 2 minutes before the time and doesn’t care if they beg.

If you have him as a substitute you can start praying because you’ll miss your regular teacher

Types with one finger if he’s on his phone (rare sight)

Checks homework. As in not just looking but actually reading your calculations.

He sometimes even grades your homework or puts them for bonuses

He sometimes reads if it’s work time and he finishes his lecture

Got drunk one time during school dance and started breakdancing. Hades was supportive and filmed it.

Hades

Teaches history

Is well with his colleagues and is well liked by students

He’s not strict with phones but please don’t use them in his class

You sometimes do work. He mostly explains and writes notes on the white board for you to write down

Is very, very passionate about certain topics. His favorites would be the world wars and the greek/ roman empire.

Is that type of teacher that you could tell anything. School, home, hobbies. He won’t mind and he’s equally interested.

Has a mentor class every year and he helps them a lot.

His class is very popular and lots of people choose his subject, so popular that people who don’t take it sometimes ask if they can stay and also follow it for fun

Almost never gives homework

He makes planners, notes, power points. Anything that may help his students.

He even lets the class watch films so that they understand it better, he usually choses for oversimplified if he needs to explain the word wars

You can eat in his class as long as you keep it clean and don’t throw stuff

Smells like rituals. Flowers. Very addictive and good. Sniff

Is present at the school dance and school parties. He helps with carrying and making sure the students don’t do stupid stuff

He doesn’t even need to discuss about his students’ grades because all his students do good in his class

Is rated to have the biggest dick by the students.

Also wears formal clothes. So like a suit, but if he crosses his legs you can see that he wears funky socks. Like a bright purple with colorful cupcakes on it or a bright blue with yellow ducks on it.

Gives extra lessons if you don’t understand.

You know how when someone asks teachers about their life? If you do that he gets so happy and explains a lot

Shows pictures of Melinoe and Zagreus from when they were babies.

He brought a 4 year old melinoe with him one time and the class played with her. If she was not playing with the students she was probably in her father’s lap.

He also shows pictures of Persephone. Every time he talks about her you can hear the love in his voice. (I’m Persephone reincarnated)

Hermes

Teaches music ofcourse

You would think that music was easy but it really isn’t. You need to able to read music notes. You get 2 tests, playing and theory.

Helps well if you need assistance with your instruments

Gives surprise tests to see if you actually did the homework

He loves and i mean looooveeees gossip

He doesn’t say much but listens when a student says something about another teacher

Handles the school musical

You actually need to put effort if you want to pass

Doesn’t take away your phone if he sees you with it. Just stares from behind on it until you notice.

doesn’t sent people out of the class, just gives them extra homework

He never, ever stops smiling. The class is being too loud? He’ll sit in his chair and simply drink his tea while glaring with a smile.

Some students find him scary because of how polite he is, because they can feel that underlying anger.

Knows how to make a student’s life miserable if they make his class unbearable.

You threw paper at him and made the class disruptive? Boom 4 chapters done by the next lesson and all the texts should be 4 times written. In cursive

He is usually seen with the principal (Zeus)

Buddha

Geography teacher

Why? Because he often travels for different kind of reasons.

Eating is allowed, as well as chewing gun

Is great with the students and most people just choose his subject because he’s chill

Doesn’t prepare lessons. He just talks and the students get it

If he does have a powerpoint he promotes his insta, tiktok and his snap

Loves to know about different cultures

Had a diss battle in his class once and almost got into trouble

Called someone emo

If you eat in his class prepare to share.

Asks people if they can bring him coffee from the teachers’ room

You cannot tell me that dawg didn’t pull up in Jordans

Is also present at the school dance and actually bribes the dg for some songs

Doesn’t really care if you skip his class. He either doesn’t care or doesn’t notice.

He too has a mentor class. He has private talks and doesn’t mind if you tell him his problems and genuinely tries to help

Doesn’t give homework unless it’s necessary.

Beelzebub

Creepy Science teacher

Got called emo by Buddha

Doesn’t hesitate to threaten students

He never cares if you don’t show up, but he will rat you out because funny

Has been detected to smile when he does weird stuff. Like cutting things open

Is always in his lab and he’s the only one who can enter with a key

Someone made a sticker of his face and the whole school used it, again he doesn’t care

Had like those weird pots with stuff in it

Doesn’t allow anyone to touch them. He does demonstrate stuff if you ask nicely

Let’s you go early but it’s not in a nice way. He’ll only do it because he doesn’t want to teach anymore for the day

Doesn’t even go to lunch, he just remains in his lab

He only goes to halloween parties

Cyberbullies people. Teachers and students included

Runs the anti *insert school* accounts

Will not care if the school burns down. He hates everyone and everything. Except Hades, because he’s cool

Doesn’t care if you eat or drink. (He may or may not have put something in it for his experiments)

‘Students are like little monsters’ is his motto. He’ll treat them like it too

If you fail his tests he’ll sometimes give you one to retake

Thank ya’ll for reading :p

I’m gonna make a part 2. I think. Maybe some with the human fighters

[anya-nya-nya]

NSFW themes but without detailed description of intimacy, borisin! reader, virgin! Jiaoqiu, yandere, no angst just horny, abo dynamic! (slightly?? at least a scent thingy)

Let's pretend the new generation of borisins is normal and walk around freely for this one.

Jiaoqiu with his need for spice always teetering on the edge of danger, if another indigestion could be counted like that. But the hellbent rush in the food aspect didn't scare him as much as the same reckless need in his romantic life.

He never skipped the history lessons, but he doesn't remember hearing about differences in borisins’ pheromones. Cause there's something CLEARLY wrong with your Lupitoxin and the way it erupts not even a sliver of fear in him, but unbeknown obsession. Talking with you to have another sniff of it is like cooking a dish and adding a new herb he didn't have time to check for the level of spice. An implacable thrill to risk and taste.

Maybe he just saw the kindness and comfort he didn't expect to find in someone of your race, and got lured by it? But the need that nagging the depth of his guts is too strong to be justified by such silly guesses. It was your scent that dragged him closer, and only then your personality that kept him in this new place without even a thought of running away.

The hunger for your taste wasn't that much of romantical firstly, directed by his arousal, but the more time he spends listening to your voice and thoughts - that weren't as cruel and rabid as the ones Hoolay was barking long ago - the more he becomes drawn to you completely in all ways.

He becomes needy - and jealous. These wild jackasses from your pack are too frivolous with their touches, and Jiaoqiu doesn't even want to hear that this kind of behavior is a norm among you all. Moreso, the fear of your mind getting occupied by the culture of your race to the point you would shift your attention from him to one of the fellow borisins made Jiaoqiu's guts boil with such a strength it's a miracle he didn't turn into a hotpot. Your culture profess to have a strong, fierce partner, and he's a fucking blind foxian. Nothing hurt him more than newfound insecurity of not being able to suit your choices, as every time you pay a visit, he could smell not only the pleasing taste of your body, but also the tastes of others. Did you spar with them again? Let them sleep near you when you spend a night in your pack?

They all have such an ugly scent, as despite the wide kaleidoscope of natural odors humanoid species can get, borisins always got the most acrid ones. Even you had a musky one, but the soft edge it had didn't make him indisposed. Huge contrast to fruity, dulcet fragrances foxians usually have as signature. Huge contract to the one Jiaoqiu had himself.

But if initially you were interested in him, then maybe you have a sweet tooth? Maybe all Jiaoqiu needs to do is coax you the same way you cough him - by the foxian's smell that naturally would erupt instinctive hunger in your blood?

The history of his ancestors made him loathe the idea of being claimed by anyone, but if it's you then Jiaoqiu is more than happy to submit entirely till all you can think about is his, his sweet, sugary, so differ from fetid borisins, smell. Jiaoqiu knows how much of an appetite love can arise in one's soul so he would let you even bite: but only if you would never look at anyone else.

Fuck it, Jiaoqiu wouldn't mind losing his virginity with you despite knowing how important the first time is for the foxian race culturally: the pheromones of the first partner stain the skin forever, and not even thousands of partners would wash away the scent you got during first intercourse.

Anyone who Jiaoqiu would decide to sleep with after this night would smell it and know he was taken by the enemy, but he didn't care. As if he ever would sully his loyalty by letting anyone warm the bed he saved only for you.

Jiaoqiu has no appetite for this plain tasteless filth other foxians can offer him. His crave only for your musky spice.

[heykaya]

Degrees of Lewdity Screenshots

See also: Degrees of Lewdity - Text Based Masterpost

💛: Appears more than once on the list.

❗️: Contains World Lore

——————————— ~* Love Interests *~ ———————————

🌻 Alex the Farmhand 🤠

Drunk Alex Dialogue

Alex Somnophilia scene

Alex reacts to a Remy related tattoo

Breaking down to Alex

💵 Avery the Businessperson 🥂

💛 Avery vs Robin

💛 Whitney vs Avery

Meeting Avery (Park, Street Harassment)

Rejecting High Rage Avery

Avery's Date - Game Night: Intro

❗️Avery's Date - Game Night: Avery Wins/Remy's Masked Party

Avery's Date - Game Night: Bailey Wins

Avery's Date - Game Night: Leighton Wins

❗️ Avery's Date - Game Night: Quinn Wins

Avery's Date - Fine Dining

Avery's Date - Ballroom Show Off

Avery's Date - Hotel Room

Dismissing Avery

🌲 Eden the Hunter 🪵

Meeting Eden through Bailey

Recaptured by Eden - Low Love, No Permission (Forest)

Recaptured by Eden - Town Stalking Event

Recaptured by Eden - Town (Low Love)

Recaptured by Eden - Town (High Love)

Eden locks you in a cage

Making Breakfast for Eden

Bathtime with Eden

Eden Re-Collars You

Eden hunts you in the forest (virgin PC)

Eden comforts high trauma PC

Eden saves you from the Underground Farm

Eden saves you from the Asylum - Bomb Method

Eden saves you from the Asylum - Towel Method

Eden saves you from a non-con encounter in the forest

Going on a date in town

Scamming Eden

👁 Kylar the Loner 🦠

💛 Sydney and Kylar kiss

Meeting Kylar (Bullied at school, Bumping into him)

Kylar sniffs your bedsheets

Kylar sees you streaking in the park

🧸 Robin the Orphan 👶

💛 Avery vs Robin

Meeting Robin (Shopping Centre, Lemonade Stand, School Canteen, Orphanage)

Rescuing Robin from the Docks

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Intro

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 1: Dinner Party

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 2: Eden & The Landfill ⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 3: Remy's Farm & The Pillory ⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡ Part 3 ⟡ Part 4 ⟡

Bailey's Punishment (PC & Robin) - Punishment 4: The Underground Brothel

Robin's Trauma

Robin finds the player at the Brothel

⛪️ Sydney the Faithful/the Fallen 👅

💛 Sydney and Kylar kiss

Meeting Sydney (School Library, Passing Out, Attending Mass)

Leighton's Spanking

Swimsuit Shopping

Defends you from a Perverted Monk

❗️Temple Advancement - PC becomes an initiate ⟡ Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 ⟡ Part 3 ⟡

Sydney comforts high trauma PC

Passing out in the school library

Pure Path: Rite of Promise

Pure Path: Rite of Promise - Broken Promise/Cheating on Sydney

Sydney and Doctor Harper

Sydney gets bullied in school

🖕 Whitney the Bully 👄

💛 Whitney vs Avery

Dismissing Whitney + seeing him in the Underground Brothel

Sending Whitney to the Pillory

——————————— ~* NPCs *~ ———————————

Bailey the Caretaker

Annoying Bailey

Bailey's Payments when you live at the temple

Bailey at the Park

Doren the English Teacher

Doren's Concern (unlocking Doren's flat)

Jordan the Monk/Priest

Watching Jordan Shower

Jordan gives you oral (Fallen Angel Transformation)

Mason the Swimming Teacher

Unlocking Mason's Pond

Hanging out with Mason

Everybody swims nude in school

Locker Raid + Mason's Shame (stealing underwear & getting dirty with Mason)

Mason Removes Winter's Chastity Belt

Leighton the Headteacher

Blackmailing Leighton

Being Blackmailed by Leighton

Sending Leighton to the Pillory

Mickey the Hacker

Meeting Mickey (Police Infiltration Quest, Negative Fame)

Remy the Farmer

Returning to the Underground Farm after escaping

River the Maths Teacher

Unlocking the soup kitchen

Maths Competition

Masturbating in class to make River faint

River's Soup Kitchen scenes

Meeting River (School, Soup Kitchen)

Winter the History Teacher

Meeting Winter (School, Museum)

Masturbating in Class - Winter's Chastity Belt

Wooden Horse Demonstration

Ducking Stool Demonstration

Wren the Smuggler

Meeting Wren (Docks, Remy's Estate, Prison)

Wren cums first - submitted by kingdomofpink

screenshots are free to repost on other websites/to use in your own content. no permission or credit needed :)

(If any links are broken please let me know.)

[cod-dump]

I have a little funny question

What dogs would you think the 141 + Laswell, Graves, and Nikolai would be?

-🫠

Hmm… interesting question. I don’t exactly have particular breeds in mind for everyone but I have some that feel right.

———

Soap is a labrador retriever (or at least mixed with one). He’s energetic, very smart, a great family dog but also protective. Definitely was trained to sniff out bombs and after he was retired he went to a home with a big family with tons of kids who love him to pieces. He sleeps with the family’s four year daughter and is her constant shadow. He loves to go camping with his family, run around in nature and get filthy… then he has his humans chasing with him to try to get him clean.

Ghost is a rottweiler. Gets a bad rep for being dangerous (and he is, don’t forget that), but he is also very sweet and playful. Was in the dog fighting ring for a couple years before it was broken up, then he was bounced between shelters and foster families until he was adopted by a veteran who needed a companion. That man became Ghost’s entire world. He brought out the sweetness, the playfulness. During thunderstorms they cuddle and wait it out, and when it passes they step outside to breathe in the air.

Gaz is a Belgian Malinois and he was given to a college girl by her parents so she wasn’t alone when she moved out. He is very protective of her and very judgy of any new person she introduces him to. Without a doubt Gaz is her best friend and has been her rock for years. When her wedding day came, he was there. Best man? No, best boy. Her fiance worked on winning him over since day one, and it paid off because now Gaz has two people that he loves fiercely.

Price is a live stock guardian of some kind. Was born on a farm and given to a family friend who just lost his old guardian. Price was raised with a small herd of goats and they became his world. The family who owns the farm he lives on has a couple kids who come out and spend time with him. There are plenty of pictures of Price laying around with baby goats running around and jumping on him. He has jumped the fence more than once to chase off anything that might be a threat to his family.

Laswell is a mixed breed between a German Shepherd and a standard pitbull. She’s scary smart and very protective. She’s lived with the same old couple since she was a puppy. Laswell is very laidback at first but she’s very anxious and constantly moving between rooms to check on everything. She loves when her owners’ grandkids come over and latches onto one of them until they leave.

Graves is a pitbull. He’s big, scary, and a dork. Very protective and sassy. He’s owned by a police officer and that man is his best friend, Graves wouldn’t hesitate to fight someone over him. He has fended off an armed robber, getting stabbed in the process. But he did not stop fighting until he knew his human was safe. He has a gnarly scar as a reminder of that night but he doesn’t have any care. Though he’s much more jumpy at night, his human doesn’t mind it, he feels safe when Graves is on the job.

Nik is a mutt. He’s big, fluffy, and very laidback. He was passed around for a few years before a teenager bought him on impulse. His parents were very nervous about their son bringing home a huge dog whose history they had no knowledge of, but they quickly got over it. Nik is their gentle giant who loves to nap all day, though he is known to have occasionally zoomies that rock the house. He loves his family and would fight for them is the need came up… but he hasn’t had the chance to. One bark and anyone or anything that was suspicious tends to run off.

[blueikeproductions]

Since I saw grifters being stupid about it, let’s go into the conceptual history of female Transformers.

Ladybots have a very … clumsy origin, but not as clunky as stuff like the Matrix or 13 Primes.

Transformers fiction started with the Marvel Comics, and when asked by Bob Budiansky, the main creator of the general lore, if female robots were a thing at all, and Hasbro said no.

So Budiansky and later Furman just accepted that with the American Marvel comics not including female robots.

Later on, taking advantage of the humanoid Pretenders, Budiansky wrote this above part clarifying Transformers don’t do the same things we humans do in romantic terms. The comics much earlier clarified Cybertronians reproduce using the ancient Creation Matrix, with the cartoon using the equally ancient super computer Vector Sigma.

Cloudburst’s comment about TFs not having men or women wound up creating a misconception that lingers to this day, that Transformers collectively are a genderless species.

It’s not in my wheelhouse to understand the logistics of how that works, but it’s something I’ve never really agreed with due to the species still using masculine pronouns, which suggests, at the time, they’re an all male species. Some modern material like Aligned and IDW unhelpfully tried using this also, claiming the Transformers had no concept of gender as we define it and only began implementing it after contact with organic species. This also led to the controversial IDW Trans Arcee, and IDW’s flimsy retcons about how gender DID exist on Cybertron but biological (technological?) females went… extinct (?), with trans women filling in the gap, while bio-technological females naturally existed on the various colony planets. IDW was not shy on Cybertron being a planet of gay men in its later years, so take that as you will, same with the fandom misconception of Caminus being the “Amazon woman” planet due to it bringing in other females in IDW.

All that said however, female characters were tinkered with in the early concepts of the series. Budiansky had tinkered with females, with his original intent for Ratchet being a ladybot, as he was meant to be a reference to Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.

This is where the cartoon comes in, as female robots were meant to be part of the story from the start. A recently unearthed script and pitch bible for the cartoon reveals the Autobots were meant to include a girl named Firecycle. Firecycle as a female medic and mutual love interest to Optimus Prime, with her shtick being she took her medic role so seriously she’d stop to repair Decepticons who were clearly faking it. She also valued life above all else, so she didn’t like to walk/drive on grass, fearing she’d hurt it. It should be noted Firecycle originates from the early story bible and pitch episode “A Robot’s Best Friend is his Dog”, repurposed from the Car & Cable pitch that had Muffy instead of Bumblebee.

This pitch also included the human cast from Car & Cable Matt Conroy, Eddie and Wendy Fairchild, and their dog Burt, hence the dog part. Burt was able to sniff out Decepticons hiding in Vehicle Mode, with this early pitch also leaning into the idea of Autobots and Decepticons being genetically distinct, as surmised by Matt.

This pitch also included a Decepticon called Whirlpool but we don’t know their gender, personality or vehicle mode. I like to think they were the first female Decepticon, but we won’t know for sure unless more of the early concept work is unearthed.

In the end, Firecycle never made it through, Hasbro presumably still not wanting girls in the boys’ clubhouse. It wasn’t until the cartoon staff put their foot down later on, citing girls liked Transformers also, including their daughters, that Hasbro eased off on it.

From there we got Arcee, Elita-1, Beta, Chromia, etc.

The inclusion of ladybots later in the series did come off as something of a retcon, as to explain why we hadn’t seen them before, Shockwave would muse on thinking they were extinct this whole time, with the show later clarifying female robots were around from the start.

Most future cartoons would follow the G1 cartoon’s lead, not really dwelling on where ladies came from, but including them anyway. There was still a predominant male over female robot slant, with most females being generics that persisted in stuff like the Unicron Trilogy.

Some much later American retcons for the anime and toy line would state that several Mini-Cons, Alexis’ partner Sureshock among them, were female, with Galaxy Force’s Override, AKA Nitro Convoy, being gender bent from male in Japan to female in America to boost female presence in the show.

What’s interesting is the female robots pushed were exclusively Autobots, as the G1 cartoon never included female DECEPTICONS. It’s never been explained yet why this was, but I partly suspect that Hasbro was only ok with girls so long as they were Autobots, and didn’t want little girls being naughty due to girls in Megatron’s employ.

Japanese manga would surprisingly include the first female Decepticons for the Victory manga.

Though they were depicted as civilians, and never actually fought the Autobots.

Still the ball was slowly rolling from here to depict Ladycons, with Beast Wars BlackArachnia in particular as the more prominent representative for a while, with her inspiring the Decepticon Airachnid. Strika from Beast Machines also contributed to increased female presence among the Decepticons.

Interestingly Japanese media tried to split the difference, where while we did have BlackArachnia and Seacon Scylla…

…most of the female presence was limited to the Navi computers, who are similar to the Beast Machines Diagnostic Drone in being little side kicks that help the Maximals and Predacons for their missions.

RiD01 had a similar concept in T-Ai, the friendly AI that was pals with Koji and helped Optimus lead the Autobots against the Predacons.

Slowly but surely though, steps were being taken to include female Transformers on top of the female rep in humans like Carly, Sari, Miko, Kelly and so forth. Animated and RiD15 saw a particular increase in female Autobots AND Decepticons both as major toys and fun background/in-show only characters like Lightyear, Glyph, Filch and Glowstrike among others.

And then Aligned and IDW happened.

The creation of Solus Prime on the surface somewhat muddled things, as she’s the defacto female robot of which all female Transformers are descended from in the same way animal types and Mini-Cons descend from Onyx and Micronus. On top of being The Fallen’s girlfriend who fell to his (unintentional) domestic violence, early concepts also state she helped birth the entire Cybertronian race, so yeah none of that helps. Some more recent stuff seemed to catch on this mild stereotype and focused more on her forager status, being the inventor and gadget gal of the group. That didn’t stop her in modern times from becoming an exclamation/swear word in RiD15 and Cyberverse in “Sweet Solus Prime!” Her biggest contribution was primarily her giant Fixit Felix hammer, which was a reoccurring relic in Prime wielded by both sides, with Megatron using it in a scheme to build his own weapon.

Solus was also credited with building the Star Saber and Apex Armor, though the later in Prime was said to be built by Decepticon scientists, conflicting with the Solus claim…

IDW didn’t help either, as mirroring Marvel, Arcee was the first female robot, born from a forced gender transition reformatting by Jhiaxus for skud and giggles just to see what would happen if gender as defined by organics, was suddenly introduced into the Transformer species. Arcee was understandably none too happy about this, her identity being violated and viscously hunting down Jhiaxus to exact revenge.

She would finally get her revenge thanks to Dead Universe shenanigans, getting to kill the undead scientist over and over again until she was satisfied.

Furman penned this story way before the modern social justice warrior/grifter stuff took root, with most agreeing Furman’s more sci-fi way to create females in a robotic species didn’t work, and mostly ignored it. It wasn’t until the modern hoopla we’ve been stuck in kicked in did IDW writers try to fix the problem. My issue with it is they wound up over correcting it, continually drawing attention to a matter most would rather have left ignored until the end of the original IDW run.

The retcon ultimately became that Arcee was an ancient Transformer from its prehistory, who was a mighty warrior alongside his brother Galvatron. At some point, Arcee wanted to be reformatted into a female body, and out of desperation sought out Jhiaxus intentionally rather than being captured at random. The earlier anger and rage was reinterpreted as Arcee instead being loopy from bad software used in her reconstruction.

Not helped either was a slip up confusing the matter if other ladybots existed on Cybertron pre-Arcee, with MTMTE, TAAO, & OP explaining them as trans ladybots also, and that Cybertron’s females either way left the planet or became extinct. Whatever the case, the planet became populated by male robots who were unfamiliar with females, creating a Vandread situation when Ladybots were shown to still exist on colony planets I don’t think was at all intentional…

Simply put it was a mess.

A mess IDW and later Skybound sought not to repeat by just having Ladybots of all makes and models exist from the start, no mental gymnastics needed.

It’s this heavy insistence though on trying to make trans woman rep, good intentioned but hopelessly flawed, that got grifters and some veteran fans cheesed off. On top of the bizarre situation with Arcee, the main trans rep besides her were Anode and Lug, new characters for MTMTE/LL who were met with revulsion because most readers found them incredibly annoying (though some were mad at them for being trans also, let’s not dance around that). It doesn’t help at the height of the feminism stuff in the mid 2010’s saw news outlets claim female Transformers were being introduced into the franchise by IDW, a horrible misunderstanding, and shows that most weren’t really aware of Arcee, Elita, Firestar, Blackarachnia, Thunderblast, Airrazor, and more from older material…

Another frowned upon thing from this era that persisted to EarthSpark was the habit of gender bending legacy bots into females, with Skywarp, Frenzy, Ravage, Swoop, and Jazz as particular standouts, alongside Nova Storm (a generic in the scheme of things but still noteworthy). There was also a peculiar push from modern cartoon writers to make Thundercracker a girl, but Hasbro put their foot down on him specifically. This is partly why Nova Storm occupies the modern Jet trio, to make up for the lack of a lady Thundercracker. It’s this modern flippant gender swapping that annoys people, as it comes off as an artificial attempt to boost female robots in a time when we have plenty more preexisting ladies to choose from. (And I say that aware of the era Override came from.) Clearly it doesn’t matter unless it’s a popular male character turned female, which is why I’m surprised Hot Rod, Grimlock or Soundwave haven’t gotten gender bent yet. It’s also why I side eye Mae Catt’s sole lament on ES being unable to bring back trans Arcee, the one thing everyone just wants to escape from… Read the room, Mae. There was room for a trans robot, but Arcee wasn’t it.

Still, despite the very bumpy ride getting there, female Transformers did start becoming more common place, with the Autobots typically having Arcee, Windblade or Elita-1 as the token chick of the team, while the Decepticons were a toss up. As of typing, they still haven’t settled on a defacto female Decepticon, despite experimenting with Airachnid, Nightbird, and Shadow Striker in those roles.

Still let it be known the next time a grifter starts trouble, female Transformers were supposed to exist from the start, it just took them a little longer to drive by was all.