#The way the beat is so steady

[daydreamdoodles]

Florence + The Machine's Mermaid makes me feral

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

re: raised in amphibia marcy who is nothing but the cores host

beyond the psychological stuff im also thinking about the physical. the evil science possibilities. im just like. canonically its hinted that the core did stuff to marcys body just in the few months it had her to make its vessel more suitable. the plug ports that were apparently in her limbs bc otherwise she would be getting stabbed by those things. "this thing needs some calibration" about marcys body??? what did it mean by that??? and like u mention her being wired up to it in the original ask

anyways im up here thinking abt how much it mightve done to her if it had her for that long. if it had the same plug things installed in her limbs as she seemed to in canon shed probably need replacements if they happened when she was young enough and grew significantly since then.

also my mom used to work in the brain-computer interface industry and well. to get really any level of highly detailed or accurate data, let alone on the scale youd need to fully interface with the entire brain, you would absolutely need to have direct access to the brain rather than trying to go through the skull. theres no way this girl doesnt have a port of some kind implanted in her head for the core to directly connect to her brain.

hell maybe it doesnt wanna deal with biological organs and the problems that might arise from them. no big deal itll just have them replaced!

Aaaaagh dude i love your asks. Galaxy brain asks from my galaxy friend mutual.

Anyway. Yes i I have thought quite a bit about Marcy's whole deal. What Andrias cares about is her brainnnn that blob of grey matter that's somehow a biological supercomputer. He has no qualms in eventually getting rid of the body and keeping the brain in a jar, immortalized as an invaluable piece of hardware with the help of some shadowfish biotechnology (shhh lemme tell you a secret: he actually does care for her and love her and takes no joy in hurting her. He just doesn't love her enough to save her :3). Anyway, unfortunately, when he found this thing, her brain was surprisingly underseveloped. He had a vague awareness that the unfortunate coincidence of bipedism and viviparity so characteristic of homo sapiens resulted in them giving birth to useless, half-developed fetuses (as opposed to fully mature, egg-born pollywogs), but surely, by age three, a human would be more mature, right? He checked his archives on alien biology and, indeed, no. An average human's brain isn't fully developed until around age 25. Marcy may be smart, but she's still, by all accounts, a homo sapiens pollywog. He consults the Core. The Core wants a host. They want a body, and they want this brain. They will do with just the brain, is Andrias is too useless to secure them the body, but even if they're willing to wait for another body (stronger, bigger, more amphibian) to come around eventually, they know it won't work as well as with the original brain-body combination.

He decides to raise Marcy to be 25. He keeps her mind sharp and body healthy, or as healthy as possible. She undergoes many week-long sessions unconscious and connected to all sorts of wires as tubes. It's so normal for her, that by age 6 she knew how to get on top of the plataform or into the tank without falling, and how to put on her own oxygen mask. She always woke up feeling weak and hungry when it was over, and with one killer headache, but her dad always held the biggest fests for her with all her favorite food when it was over! She always looked forward to her sessions. Like a dog.

In these sessions, she would undergo several procedures. There's mossman, shadowfish and amphibian biotechnology involved. The point is to 1) make her brain Core-friendly - if it has many dimensions that would make things easier! And 2) translate the data from the Core into something that can be run in a biological machine. For which they need to understand and explore said machine. She only has one port, in the back of her neck, hidden by her long hair. It connects straight into her spine and her brain. In essence, these are fitting sessions. The Core is trying out their new house. Ever since she was little, they actually did use her brain to run tests and perform different functions. Most of the times it was mostly to study it, but as she grew older, they began using her whenever a function required too much energy, whenever something that would take forever to load with its own equipment, would render almost instantly with hers. They never left any data behind, erasing all evidence of their presence, and they never fully transported anything to this new extension, using only copies of data with the original files safe in the Core. The point is to leave the Core behind eventually and fully move on to this new computer, but not yet.

A few funny side effects!

Her blood is slowly growing more and more green as the years pass. This actually has less do to with brain stuff, and more as early preparation for eternal youth and immortality. It's mean to make her last longer. When she first meets Anne at age 10 - 11, her blood is a brown-ish color, but by the time things blow up when she's like 13-14, it's just a gross green. Her kidneys filter it out with time and her blood returns to its original red color, and Anne and Sasha see her real skin color for the first time, since before she always had this weird green tint, but they didn't know enough about humans to tell it wasn't normal. Seeing her blush red instead of green for the first time is kinda magical.

Migraines! Especially after a session. Especially when she does something the Core wouldn't like, because despite how hard they try to erase their traces, Marcy's most primal survival instincts remember.

More indirect effect but going several weeks a year without eating can't be good for her. It makes her feel very tired, dizzy and weak, even if she's eating normally, because three days ago she was starving.

The port in the back of her neck itches a lot. After becoming queen, she asked the royal physician that put it her to remove it, but he was scared of leaving her paralyzed, since it was so deeply fused with her nervous system. Sasha still thinks she should've had the guy publicly excecuted or something.

Idk if it counts but ?? Andrias wouldn't touch her if she was sick, so Olivia often found ways to give her a fever in secret or something to spare her. She did it to protect her, but it does mean Marcy spent a big deal of her childhood in bed, recovering from a session or a light illness.

The Core communicates with her nervous system through electric signals, and even thought they don't want to harm it, they still make her muscles contract a lot so she feels super sobre afterwards lots of muscle pain all the time.

There is no helmet in this one. No indirect connection. When Andrias puts the Core in Marcy, he goes all the way. Straight into her brain! They got a new PC :3

[dilfsuzanneyk]

you know when you feel your own pulse? do you ever think about how wild it is that there's an organ in there working hard to keep you alive? and that little beat you feel in your fingers is proof of that? you ever think about how that small beat is proof that you Are alive?

[empresskylo]

ghost knows he’s too rough and impatient with sex. knows he won’t know how to please you properly. knows he can’t possibly do things right with you, knowing you’ve never done this before. but god, he wants to. he wants to treat you how you deserve. never thought he’d be so desperate to fuck someone good and slow like he does with you.

so he goes to price. the one man who will know all the right ways to please a lady properly. asks him to show him how to take care of you. tells him he doesn't know how to care for someone else's needs, at least with someone inexperienced like you. tells him he needs to be instructed. to see just how he should work you.

you’re nervous at first, thinking it’s an absolutely insane idea, but you can’t hide the wetness along your panties as you sit on ghost’s lap, back pressed against his chest, legs spread, his knuckle dragging down your warmth. price sits back in his chair, telling ghost exactly how to move his fingers, paying close attention to your body's minuscule movements, the way your brows furrow when ghost moves a certain way, or your eyelashes fluttering.

and this was supposed to be a strictly hands-off approach… but god, watching ghost fumble, unable to maintain the slow speed you need, keeping you from reaching your orgasm, has price on edge. he leans forward, rolling his chair with him, and tells ghost to stop. tells him to watch and to pay close attention. price tears your panties off and your eyes go wide at the contact. you swallow, expecting ghost to be furious, but his hands only settle around you and he takes notes as he watches his captain work.

price runs his thumb up your slit, circling your nub, and tells ghost to hold your thighs apart when you unconsciously try to clench them. then his finger is sinking into you and your head falls back against ghost's chest, eyes shut. you moan and you feel ghost harden beneath you. “how’s that feel, sweetheart?” price asks you. you babble out incoherently, price adding a second finger, and chuckling darkly at your response.

it becomes too much, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his other hand rubbing your clit, ghost's fingers digging into the softness of your thighs as he forces them apart. “ohmygod,” you slur, “m’gonna—“ price smirks, his eyes darkening as he watches you orgasm, your body clenching around his fingers shoved deep in your heat. "talk her through it," price tells ghost. so ghost does. you're shaking still and ghost rubs his hands over your exposed skin. "that's it, baby. you're doin' s'good," he praises.

"whata fuckin' sight," price mumbles to himself, his fingers leaving you empty. you steady your breathing, coming down from your high, completely limp in ghost's arms. price can see the way ghost's eyes have gone dark, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. knows ghost doesn't know how to be soft. sees the feral need to ram himself into you overtaking his features. "gonna take it slow with her, yeah?" price asks.

ghost breathes rapidly out, his hips begging to buck up against you. he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself if you let him fuck you. so he answers honestly. "not sure I'd be able to."

price tsks, sitting back in thought, his eyes roving over your spent body. you suddenly feel shy, wanting to close your legs, but ghost's arms tighten on you. "need me t'break her in?" price finally asks after several long beats of silence.

ghost grinds up against you, his hand sliding into your hair and pulling your head to the side so he can kiss your neck. your eyes flutter at his attempts to be so delicate with you. "want the captain here to be your first time, love?" ghost asks against your skin. you stutter when you answer. "don't you want to be?" "course I do. but I won't go easy on ya. I'd hate to ruin you, sweet girl. price will take it nice n' slow. just like you need." and after, you'll be ready to take ghost. ready to adjust to his size.

you swallow hard, ghost's hands escaping and clawing at your clothed chest. you nod. "o-okay."

price stands from his chair and begins to undo his belt. "come sit on my desk, sweetheart."

cod masterlist

[tonycries]

Can't Touch Me (Like Gojo) - G.S.

Synopsis. In which intentionally making your fríend-with-benefíts jealous ends up with more benefits than you’d think.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, FWḂ! Gojo, slight Sukuna x reader, rough VERY jealous séx, Satoru goes feraI omg, unprotected, FWḂ-to-lovers, thígh riding, fíngering, creampíe, overstím, spítting, implied thréesome, he’s a bit mean and possessive, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. Heheh, hoping y’all have a lovely week coming up <3

“-n’ there’s this really great café downtown with those cupcakes you like-”

“Toru.”

“-I’ll get ya some for that kick you need after a lecture with Yaga. Speaking of Yaga-”

“Toru-”

“-he’s the one in need of a kick. I swear, that man gave me a B on my presentation just because I caught him in the middle of his interpretive dance routine-”

“Satoru!”

At this, Satoru pauses in the middle of buckling up his jeans to throw a grave nod your way. “I know, right?” Promptly sauntering over to pick up his t-shirt from where it had been thrown onto your bedroom floor, “It gave me nightmares for a few days, too. Which is why we should go to that café tomorrow and then…”

You roll your eyes - partially out of frustration, partially out of necessity to rip your stare away from those sculpted shoulders on display. Decorated in angry, red scratches running down, down, down. Somehow, you manage to grit out, “Satoru I have a uh- date.”

And ah, was it a sight to behold - because, perhaps for the first time in the twenty-something years that Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc on this planet, he’s stunned into silence. 

Still very groggy from sleep, still very sinfully shirtless standing at the foot of your bed. His kiss-bitten lips fall slack as you plow on, “And it’s just- I can’t make it tomorrow night because he invited me to his party.” 

Party? This was the first time you canceled one of your…appointments with your friend-with-benefits - and it was for some party? Satoru could do parties, too - much better ones than this loser, he’s sure. Ones that would actually warrant you bailing on him.

Shaking away the strange thoughts ringing in his mind, he spits, “Who?” Just about all he could get out now. 

Whoever he was - it was true about the parties. Why would you want to waste any time going to something like that when Satoru was the one known for them on campus. Him and Suku-

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

It was stupid - it was ridiculous. And you don’t know why Sukuna ever agreed to this scheme, but here you were, glued to his side like his favorite lil’ plaything for the night. 

“What?” you shout for the nth time tonight, scooting closer on the couch. And you see his lips move, yet, to your frustration - despite being seated so flush against you - no sound comes out of them. 

Whatever they say about Sukuna and Satoru’s parties were true - and then some. Because right now, it was so loud you could barely hear yourself think, let alone whatever Sukuna was talking about. Heaving out a sigh, you get ready to give up and suggest joining the thrumming dance floor - before, a large, soft hand glides down to your waist. 

Fingers digging into the plush of your hips as Sukuna yanks you easily to plop down onto his waiting lap. Thighs strong and steady underneath yours, meeting your surprised gaze with his smug one, “This better?”

His hot breath fans the shell of your ear, sending traitorous shivers running along your spine - all the way down to where Sukuna was resting hand right above where your tight dress was hiking up. 

Involuntarily, you find yourself nodding along, “Y-yeah. Much better.”

“Good.”

Fuck, you could feel each and every rumble of his broad chest against yours as he continues the conversation like nothing happened. The faint tap! tap! tap! of Sukuna’s fingers drumming on your squirming hips to the beat of the pounding music. 

And it’s really hard to forget where you are, yet it hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact - when his dark eyes widen at something over your shoulders. The steady beat of his fingers halting abruptly, “Oh?”

You knew what that look meant - knew who it meant. Because, really, there was only ever one person that could command as much attention in such a hazy, packed campus party.

Dipping your head, you hastily ask, “Is he looking over at us?”

To which Sukuna finally tears his gaze away, amusement and something else so dark swirling behind his gaze when he grabs the back of your throat. Whispering against the skin, “More than looking, pretty. Satoru’s planning my funeral and dancing on my grave already.” Moving up, voice dropping to a low, low whisper, “All according to plan, of course. N’ I think…” You jolt as he bites down on your earlobe, hard. “-that we should give him a lil’ show, hm?”

You bite back a soft moan, palms smoothing over Sukuna’s pecs to steady yourself. “And just what did you have in mind?”

“A little bit of this.” he grins, eyes flickering over behind you. “A little bit of that. And some of-” Sukuna chuckles at the way you’re so responsive underneath his touch, bucking when he gives your ass a tight squeeze. Tracing right up, up, up the middle of your spine, “-this.” Lips just inches away from yours now, close. “And you get him as a new boyfriend, and I get killed for taking what I can’t have.”

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

And then immediately Sukuna’s pulling away, those lips that were just barely one yours curling up into such a sly smirk, “Yo, Satoru.”

You stiffen at the name - and the burning hole being stared into your back right now - whipping your head around to be met face-to-face with a towering Satoru. Brows furrowed, biceps rippling when he crosses his arms, lips drawn tight as he hisses through his teeth, “Seems the two of you are having a lot of fun.”

Oh, were you thankful for Sukuna’s sharp mouth right about now. Because while you’re still sitting there with your mouth stupidly agape, he muses, “Mhm, a lot of fun.” Thumbing your face back towards him, “Isn’t that right, pretty?”

Fuck, those were fighting words, ones that had Satoru looming closer - practically sandwiching you between the two men.

“I’m sure she can speak for herself.” he snaps back, slender fingers circling your wrist. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“I dunno, Toru.” And, well, maybe you were an idiot. Maybe you were a mastermind, because you only bat your lashes up at Satoru so deceivingly innocently. “Kuna here-” relishing in the way he flinches at the nickname, “-was jus’ telling me how great of a boyfriend he’d be. Right?”

The other man nods, “Since this pretty lil’ thing is single, thought I might as well take a shot.”

“Please.” Satoru was pulling you closer against him now, irritated huffs prickling waves of goosebumps across your skin. Words venomous, “Some boyfriend he’d be. I’m sure he’d do nothing other than give you weak dick and bore you to death.”

Sukuna scoffs, “Right, because yours is so much better?”

“You really think you have what it takes to satisfy this lil’ minx?”

Both men were gritting their teeth, trapping you between them. People were starting to stare now - some even pulling their phones out to start recording in case of a fight. And before the argument could escalate until that point, you catch Sukuna’s eye. Cutting off whatever next retort was on the tip of his tongue with a short, subtle shake of your head. 

“Well then…” he instead purrs, grinning as if he was in on some inside joke between the two of you - on purpose, of course, just to watch Satoru’s eyes grow harder. “Guess if I’m ‘boring her to death’ then you-” Sukuna gives you a little push, nudging you towards Satoru’s chest. “-can teach her all about fun.”

Before you can react, two strong arms are looping your waist, helping you stand up - and pulling you clean off of Sukuna’s lap. 

You’re hit with Satoru’s expensive, heady cologne - and his chest against your back, rock-hard, chest thumping wildly. You blink up at that uncharacteristically clenched jaw, “Toru?”

Now, you’ve seen him moody, you’ve seen him irritated - but never to this extent. Positively fuming, teeth grit, jolting at the mere sound of your voice as if his whole body was hit with a wave of electricity. Like some hidden, primal part of himself was being poked so dangerously awake when you softly intertwine your fingers with his. All gentle against his almost bruising hold, you question, “Are you alri-”

You don’t get to finish the question, because all it takes is another slow, leering grin flashed at you from Sukuna before Satoru mutters, gravelly. “Excuse us, then. I must have a talk with my woman.”

Starting to walk in long, fast strides upstairs - with you all stumbling and trying to keep up behind him. 

Urgent. Dangerous.

“Extra room’s unlocked, you two!” you hear Sukuna call out after the both of you. And the last sight you see of him is when he mouths a silent “You’re welcome.”. One hand flashing you a thumbs up, the other adjusting the crotch of his pants. “Have fun.”

Satoru only clicks his tongue, moving very purposefully towards where Sukuna’s bedroom was instead.

“Woah- Toru, slow down.” you yelp, out of breath at his ruthless pace. But of course, since this is Satoru, he won’t have it any way other than stopping immediately in his tracks. Turning briefly around to you - only to wrap two arms around your waist, throwing you so easily over his shoulder like some ragdoll. Large palms tugging down the hem of your ass as he continues walking. “Y-you’re so-”

So what? Mean? Jealous? Playing right into your hands?

You don’t even know - nor do you really care, because Satoru finally reaches his destination.

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

The door is flung open so hard it almost rattles off its hinges - and you aren’t faring any better. Because no sooner has Satoru stepped inside, he’s throwing you onto the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. 

The mattress dips as he slowly makes his way up to you, your legs quiver at how much he just looked like a man starved - eyes half-lidded and crazed, hair ruffled. Having finally found a full meal in years. Darkly eyeing down the way you’re splayed out like such a slut on the mattress, dress hiking up with each bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“So-” Satoru’s fingers reach out to lazily unbuckle the straps of your heels. Lingering much more than necessary. “-got anything to say?”

You bite your lower lip, holding back a delighted grin while his hands dance up your thigh to fiddle with that garter you knew he’d love. Slow. Agonizingly slow. Cocking your head in faux-confusion, “Hmm, like what?”

“Oh I dunno.” Satoru muses, saccharine sweet. And oh you could tell by his tone that he didn’t like that - didn’t want to like it. Running his fingers feather-light all the way down your legs to fling that useless garter onto the floor. “How about a ‘oh I’m so sorry, Toru, for bailing on you and acting like such a slut with the biggest asshole on campus jus’ to rile you up.’” 

You bristle at his mockingly high tone, oh yeah, your plan worked - hell, maybe too well. 

Teeth clenched, you hiss, “Well what are you gonna do about it, Toru?” Jutting your chin in defiance, “You’re not even my boyfriend. Maybe he jus’ fucks me better than you.”

“Say that again.”

Fuck, it takes you a second to even recognise his voice as your familiar friend-with-benefits. So jagged and raw. 

And yet, you’re still running your mouth - so close to his. Too close. “Maybe he jus’ fucks me be-”

Now, usually you were the one that’d shut up Satoru mid-sentence - this time, however, he’s the one crashing his lips against yours. Swallowing the rest of that sentence in such a messy clash of teeth, and spit, and desperation. 

Pulling ever-so-slightly on your glossy lower lip with his teeth, “Say it again, sweetheart.”

Oh, you knew you shouldn’t. Not one bit. But you do it anyway, letting out a muffled, “He f-”

And again. And again and again and-

Each and every time Satoru’s kissing away your mean little words, a large hang coming up around your throat to thumb apart your lips further. “Open.” he hisses against your mouth, so angry. 

It’s as if on autopilot when you do, bruised lips sagging open. Leaving the perfect lil’ opening for Satoru to spit onto your lolling tongue, once. Twice. Thrice. Until your bleary eyes are snapping open, whining against Satoru’s iron-hold fist when you pathetically try to pull away in embarrassment.

Because shit, let it be known that Gojo Satoru has perfect aim - except for when it comes to you. Letting the steady strip of spit splatter against the side of your mouth, gliding his thumb to smear it all over your lips.

“How cute.” Satoru coos, eyes hooded. He gives your pouty mouth a final, chaste peck, sucking softly on your bottom lip. Chuckling, “Makin’ me almost forget you were locking lips with some other bitch earlier.”

And Satoru has the audacity to laugh - laugh - hoarse, and humorless at the way your jaw drops open in disbelief. Humming into your throat, “Yer right, though, m’not your boyfriend.” He leaves little bite marks down your racing pulse, your collarbone, your tits spilling out of your sinful dress. Eyes just devouring you through his long lashes, “But that doesn’t make you any less mine.”

Sitting back on the mattress, all it takes him is a simple tug on your hips to seat you so prettily on his lap. Your legs trembling around his thick thighs, gasping at the feeling of something so rock-hard right under your clothed pussy. 

“Since ya like riding thighs so much, sweetheart-” Bunching your dress up at your hips, gripping your waist - tight. “-let’s see how you like mine.”

“What- oh ngh- fuck-” you’re gasping when he just starts dragging your sloppy hips down his thigh. Long, harsh movements that don’t even ease you into it. 

“Shit.” Satoru groans at the feeling of your cunt drooling, seeping into his skin already. He’s angling his head to spy on the heavenly view - hooking a finger around your drenched panties. “This damn thing is-” Pulling - tearing. “-in the way.”

You’re gasping when Satoru pulls back to look at you with a content grin, dangling the flimsy fabric around his finger like a badge of honor. “You’re- ngh- buying me a new one.”

“Oh, anything for you.” he’s grazing his teeth along your earlobe, fingers finding their way back on your hips to grind them on his thigh, back and forth. Up and down up and down up and- “Or is that what you wanted me to say?”

And shit Satoru is so mean with the way he gives your ass a sharp smack! Pulling your whiny face closer, grinning sternly against your lips. “Why don’t you ask that new boytoy of yours to buy you some, huh?” 

“B-but-”

“B-b-but-” he mocks, bouncing his knees up and down to get you to slide your cunt down his long thighs faster. Puffy folds spreading so shamefully open - so shamefully good. “You were so happy being such a slut for him before, right?” Just goading on your poor self to huff and puff in a way that made his cock twitch wildly. “So why are you here? With me?”

You’re stubbornly keeping your lips sealed shut to keep yourself from crying out - and oh, Satoru didn’t like that. Almost as much as he didn’t like seeing you giving those beautiful heart-eyes at some other bastard.

“Oh? Playing shy now?” Smack! “What happened to the slut from earlier, huh?” Bouncing his knee faster. The pads of his long fingers sting into your skin, sure to leave bruises for him to admire later - and for some people to take note of. Pulling - drawing your cunt to hump him like a bitch in heat. “Tha’s alright, pretty. I get it.” 

And Satoru - mean, mean Satoru - waits until your features soften in relief, almost letting out a sigh - before dipping a hand down to brush a thumb at your pretty clit. Hard. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to bring her out.”

“Oh- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, nails digging into Satoru’s shoulders when he starts to draw frenzied, methodical little circles on your throbbing clit. “S’too- good- oh my god-”

“‘Toru’ works jus’ fine, sweetheart.” 

But oh for how confident Satoru was talking you into insanity, he can’t help but gape in wonder down below him, awe-struck with how sloppy you were. He could see you sweet sweet juices trailing down his palm, that glossy sheen on his thigh. “You’re so dripping wet, pretty. Who’re you this wet for? Me or-” Satoru’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, turning your head to the adjacent wall, where Sukuna had a framed photograph of himself - because of course he did. “-him?”

Fuck, Satoru can’t even be mad at the way he feels your cunt clench in surprise - because the feeling is so heavenly. His pretty girl, getting off on just his thigh.

Hips stuttering as you move faster - sloppier. So, so filthily all the way from around his knee just till where you could feel the curve of his massive erection. 

He doesn’t even have to move your hips for you anymore - you’re moving as if on instinct at this point. And it makes him smirk, “Heh, such a slutty lil’ thing aren’t ya? Gettin’ off on my thigh?” Feeling you push your hips down hard - so hard. Pelvis desperately trying to hit all your sweet spots, “N’ who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

It’s all you can do to manage out a whimpering “Y-you.”

But, of course, that wasn’t enough. And Satoru’s only quirking his fingers just enough on your clit to make you cry out loud. “Yeah tha’s more like it. Louder now - who’s thigh are you riding right now?”

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

You cry out when Satoru angles his leg up ever-so-slightly to watch gravity slide you faster down his thigh. Clit catching so fucking obscenely along the fabric of his pants. Ruthless.

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

“Mhmmm, thought so.” His hot tongue darts out to catch those big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks at the unforgiving stimulation. Muscled thighs burning lightly now - faster -  fingers so erratic. Only getting even more so. “Cuz you’re mine aren’t ya?”

You cum so hard - violent, even - that you don’t realize when you are. Just that you’re letting out a broken sob of Satoru’s name while he toys so relentlessly with your clit through your high.

Flashes of white in your vision, your heartbeat in your ears. So good that you’re almost tearing apart his button-up to shreds, hips jerky and sensitive as you your sloppy cunt gushes all over Satoru’s thigh. And, fuck, you’ve never felt so much like such a slut than when you look down to catch the glossy coating all over it. 

One that Satoru swipes thumb at - pooling the syrupy slick on his fingerpad before bringing up to his pretty pink lips and-

Pop! 

“Mmm.” He groans, muffled. “Fuck, you’re so sweet - could taste you forever.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste, “Almost makes me forget that you didn’t answer my last question.”

And you don’t know what you’re reeling more from - the way that Satoru throws you around so easily, pushing you back until you’re splayed out against the plush mattress, shaky legs on his shoulders, arms around his neck. Or from the realization that shit, you’d been too busy losing your absolute sanity to answer his question. 

“I- I didn’t hear.” you make up an excuse, heels digging into the muscles of Satoru’s shoulders now. “I’m yours, Tor-”

“Now now, don’t try that with me, sweetheart.” Satoru cuts off your flurry of apologies, kissing softly at the ankle beside his neck while he pulls off your dress and bra. You didn’t need those, anyway. “Guess I just hafta prove it to ya, right?”

And fuck was he well and fully intent on proving it to you. Because the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s peeling down his drenched pants - and those unnecessary boxers right along with it, too. 

Satoru hisses when his painfully hard erection smacks against those toned abs, smearing precum in a small, filthy little pool. So so angry with the need to be inside your tight pussy - to prove to you from the inside out that you were his. 

“Ya like what you see?” he notices your fixed stare at his cock. Greedily following the precum beading at his fat, red head, making its way between Satoru’s prominent veins. To those tufts of white way down, down, down- “Hey there.” You’re startled out of your little reverie by two wet fingers being snapped in your face, “As flattered as I am, this is actually my favorite part.”

And fuck you could see why it was.

Because it felt so sinful to watch with bated breath at the way Satoru fists his swollen cock, gliding his weeping tip between your swollen folds. Letting your pretty pussy slobber all over him. Up and down. Again. And again. Teasing. 

“P-please, Toru-” you whine around the fifth time he’s “accidentally” nudging at your poor clit. Hips bucking up in need for more more more- “Enough teasing, jus’ wan’ you ngh- inside me.”

To Satoru, no sweeter words have been spoken. But he still manages to curl his lips into a leering smirk at your fucked-out, needy self. “Funny. Coming from someone who shit- pretty, you’re pussy’s trynna suck me up - who couldn’t wait to bail on me tonight for some other hah- jerk.” He presses his thick tip down on your clit, on purpose. “Would’ve fucked you ngh- real nicely, tonight, y’know? What a shame.” 

You can only watch when he draws his hips back, lining up right with your sloppy hole. “What a shame m’gonna ah- fuck you like the slut you are right now.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - to your snug cunt, to your fucking lungs it felt like. 

“Oh- oh fuck, Toru-” you keen, back arching off the bed at the stretch. Satoru’s girth was rubbing up against your gummy walls and stretching them out so good. All the way until all you could feel was the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing cock pushing between your legs. “God, s’too big-”

“No no no, you don’t get to say that.” Satoru spits into your open mouth, hips jutting forward like some animal in short, shallow grinds to bully himself deeper. “You don’t get to fuck- ngh- act all coy when you brought this upon yourself.” His words come out faster - more slurred. Falling out faster and faster as his hips do, “Not when you decided t-to act like a lil’ slut hah- n’ guess what?”

Whether it was a rhetorical question or not - you weren’t sure. All you know is that you’re mewling up tearily at such a feral Satoru, “W-what?”

To which he only smiles against your lips, hips suddenly going still. Dangerously still. “N’ that means m’gonna fuck you like one.”

Before you can even react, he’s pushing in all in one go. Fuck, it never got easier even after so long. 

“Oh- fuck I can’t take it- all-” you cry helplessly as he keeps pushing past that first ring of resistance. The curve of his cock massaging all those hidden sweet spots inside while he keeps splitting you apart deeper and deeper - not daring to even slow down. Not until Satoru’s well satisfied with the kiss of your bruised cervix against his thick head ,heavy balls smacking against your marked-up ass. 

“See? Knew you could take it, you always do.”

And then he’s moving - not with the slow, persistent determination from before, no. Satoru was so animalistic, bouncing you unapologetically on the mattress. 

Hands keeping your hips still to let him ram his entire cock inside your tight pussy. Over and over and-

“Still don’t think you’re not- fuck- mine, sweetheart?” Satoru runs a hand through his hair to see you better, to drink in the sight of your puffy folds bulging around his cock. Struggling to take in each mean thrust, “Because this seems ngh- reeeeal convincing that you are.”

You scrunch your brows in a pathetic plea, “I-I am yours, Toru- ngh-”

But he only brings his ear closer, “What was th-that? Didn’t hah- hear you-” Hands pushing apart your legs until they burned at the stretch. Until you were so shamefully on display for him, “You hah- need more convincing? Oh, I see.”

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

It’s all you can do to let out teary, broken moans when Satoru rolls his hips harder. So carefully practiced with the way he locates your sweet spot easily. 

“Yeah? You hah- like that?” he groans, words punctuated by a deep, harsh thrust. All hitting the bulls-eye each and every time. “Like me f-fuckin’ you like you’re mine?”

At this point, you’re scrambling at the damp sheets, the headrest, Satoru’s shoulders - just anything and everything to hold onto whatever’s left of your sanity - which seemed to be slipping away with each press of Satoru’s head against your g-spot. 

But it still wasn’t enough.

Languidly, he brings a hand over to pinch your ravaged clit between two fingers. Having you whine so prettily with each roll of his fingertips. “Answer the question, pretty.”

“Yes!” you gasp, feet kicking at the sheer overstimulation. “I love it- ngh shit shit shit- I love it, Toru- love it so much.”

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

Because while you may have thought that this answer would calm your Satoru down a bit - it only made him snap. Eyes widening, hips stuttering, swollen lips falling into such a fucked-out oh! - he looked like an absolute wreck.

Letting out a low, throaty groan of, “Oh fuck, you’re gonna be the ngh- death of me.” With this, he’s pressing his sweaty forehead onto yours, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs that match his merciless cadence. “Wish they could fuck- see you like this.” Ramming inside you harder - meaner. Giving your clit a light smack! before he starts playing with it once more. “I’d ah- fuck you in front of all those losers that think they have a chance just to show off how good you are f’me. Because you’re fuck fuck fuck- my good girl, right?”

You nod as much as you can, head just spinning with each brush of Satoru’s dick against your sensitive spots. Fingers twirling at your clit just as dizzyingly. Letting your slick glisten all over his wrist - his painfully squeezing balls - all the way up to his abs with how hard he was fucking into your tight pussy.

The both of you were getting so sloppy now. No care or concern for the party still raging on outside, not when your gummy walls were sucking up Satoru’s aching cock like that. 

“No one ngh- can fuck you like this.” Satoru sucks on your lower lip. Ragged, like it pained him to keep talking, but he couldn’t stop anyway. “No one.” Milking you harder and harder like he was high off your sweet moans. More desperate - depraved. “Cuz m’yours.”

And he repeats that - into your lips, into your forehead, down your neck - over and over while you cum so fucking hard all on his swollen cock. Plushy walls squeezing so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your high.

Ripping out strangled, raspy groans with each clench of your slutty cunt, “N’ you’re mine.” You think your vision gets hazy through your climax, and the only thing you can hear are those obscene squelches and Satoru’s voice. Like a mantra, “You’re mine- you’re mine you’re mine you’re mine- fuck you’re mine.”

Not straying too far behind, Satoru cums and he thinks he sees the pearly gates of heaven - with you, such an angel. 

So sweetly whining into his ear when he’s painting your walls white, pumping rope after rope of thick, hot cum into your awaiting pussy.

Blinking back his vision only to eye the way it overspills, dribbling down your slit with each harsh ram of his hips. 

“Wan’ go again-” Satoru groans. Only fucking his seed deeper and deeper and oh- he didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think he could stop with the way you were bringing out each and every single last drop like it was delicious. “F-fuck I needa go again. Swee-”

SLAM!

“Woah, seems the two of you are having a looota fun.”

Still not pulling out, both you and Satoru scramble to cover yourselves up with Sukuna’s now-soaked sheets. Well, mainly cover you up, for Satoru had no shame in staring the other man down. Scoffing out, “The fuck are you fuck- don’ squeeze me so hard, pretty- the fuck are you here for?”

“It’s my room, n’ I had a feeling you’d be here.” Sukuna lets the door shut so agonizingly slow, flashing the two of you a lazy, devilish grin. “Besides - this is my date, after all.”

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[littlelamy]

boat scene with rafe

requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 😘 part 2

credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.

“Look who’s here to take care of me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though there’s a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Thought you’d need this. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting room service,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t know you cared this much.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “You should know by now I don’t want you dead, Rafe,” you say with a wry smile. “But don’t expect this to become a habit.”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. “We’ll see about that,” he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. “So, what—are you gonna feed me, too?”

You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. “Would you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?” You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.

Rafe’s smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. “I can handle it,” he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” But you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.

You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. “Something funny?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

You shrug, biting back your amusement. “Nothing at all. You look perfectly in control.”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.

“Be careful,” he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.

For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He won’t say it, but you know he’s thankful.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now it’s warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as much as you try to resist, you can’t help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.

The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. You’re barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But there’s something else clawing at you—something that won’t let you ignore the sound of Rafe’s voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.

“Come on! Cut me loose!” His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. He’s still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you can’t. Not this time.

You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. There’s no time to think. Rafe’s call keeps echoing in your head, and that voice—the urgency, the fear—pushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.

Before you even get to the door, Cleo’s voice rings out. “No! Y/N, No!”

Pope’s voice follows, sharper. “Y/N, stop don’t let him out!”

But you keep moving. You don’t stop. You can’t. There’s no way you’re going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.

When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. He’s slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.

“Cut me loose, come on!” He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.

His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. There’s no time to waste. You don’t think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.

Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Don’t make me regret this,” you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope that’s holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.

“Come on, hurry up.” His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.

You’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafe’s eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.

“Please,” he breathes, and it’s that one word that makes everything else fade away—the roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.

The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafe’s hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough, but there’s something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability you’ve never seen from him before.

You don’t have time to say anything, to wonder if he’s really thankful or if he’s just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know there’s not much time before things get worse.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. “We need to get to somewhere safer,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.

You’re both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesn’t let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.

You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. It’s not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, it’s all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, but you don’t mind. You’re not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how you’re both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafe’s body is so close to yours.

He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. It’s almost like he’s afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself.

Rafe doesn’t respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. He’s not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like he’s holding onto you for something more. You can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that you’ve never seen before.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'baby fever' - 18+ logan x f!reader

summary: after your first baby is born, logan realises he doesn't want to stop at just one. (4.4k) tags: erm no one look at me, logan has baby fever, fluffy beginning, established relationship, breeding kink, blowjob, p in v, wet & messy, nipple play, overstimulation, creampie (lots of them oops), lots of dirty talk, clit play, missionary + doggy style, dom!logan & kind of sub!reader, crying from pleasure, rough sex, kind of body worship, for the 'home' prompt for logan promptober.

logan swears he’s dreaming, he must be. there’s no possible way he got this lucky, right? he’s holding his own baby girl in his arms, bouncing her on his hip by the bedroom window, watching on in awe as she eagerly takes in the world around her.

the light dances in her eyes while the world passes by behind the glass, birds singing, trees swaying gently, autumn leaves twirling in their yearly gentle dance. everything is new to her, and logan can’t help but be struck by such a profound love. everything feels new to him now too.

he never thought he’d have this, never thought he’d deserve it. still doesn’t believe he deserves it but accepts the role with more honour than any other role he’s been bestowed before it. a father, him, logan, a father.

her eyes droop, and his smile widens more than he thought possible. he makes his way through to her room as he mumbles sweet little words of affection to her in a voice so high pitched that no one would recognise it's his.

you watch on from the bed, a warmth spreading in your chest. you could watch him like this all day. he was a natural, the paternal instinct coming so easily to him. logan had always felt this deep-seated need to protect. though he spent so many years in solitude with no path and insisted he preferred it that way, you knew differently from the moment you met him. logan was a pack animal, through and through.

his eyes land on you as he returns to the bedroom and approaches you, standing at the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup your cheek in a loving gesture. thumb tracing across your soft skin, he speaks, “you look tired too.”

you smile, eyes closing as you lean into his touch, “maybe a little.”

parenthood hadn’t been entirely easy, but you couldn’t have anyone better by your side.

logan carefully makes his way into bed beside you, pulling you against his firm chest as his hand finds your hair and begins to thread through the strands. you hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, soothing you, lulling you, though he could achieve that with his presence alone.

his eyes settle on the window, head tilting to the side. you can practically hear it, the cogs turning. logan might have seemed like a steel trap to others, but he may as well be translucent to you. “what’s up?“ you ask sleepily.

“oh,” he murmurs, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point that you’re alerted by his silent mannerisms, “just. . . thinkin’.”

and he was, thinking about you, about the baby.

“‘bout what?” you yawn.

logan pauses, “. . .would you ever want another one?”

your eyes shoot open and you lift your head to look up at him, you find his expression and realise he’s serious.

he flushes, just a little, but you notice, “never mind.”

a small laugh of disbelief leaves you, “logan howlett, do you have baby fever?”

he flushes deeper, what did that even mean? logan scoffs and you visibly see him retreat into that shell inside his mind.

“oh baby,” you grin, cuddling against his chest as you lean your chin against his shirt to continue gazing up at him lovingly, “you want another baby, huh?”

groaning, he rolls his eyes, “quit it.” he’s beetroot red now, a sight he only reserves for you, though it’s not as though he can help it.

but damn, the baby was only born a few months ago - he was already thinking of your second? the thought fills you with warmth, but more prominently, need. your eyes land on his flushed face as you bite your lip, wondering if he is thinking about filling you up right this very second.

". . . what'cha thinkin' 'bout?" you ask sweetly with feigned naivety as your hand slides down his torso to find the- oh. oh. he's already hard. you know what he's thinking about.

logan groans and tilts his head back when your hand makes contact, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. "nothin'," he lies, his hand covering yours making you squeeze around his length through the material.

your breath catches in your throat, a heat rising in your chest. "is that right?" you whisper, trying to stay in control. the thought of him taking you, hard and deep, whispering filth about how he's gonna make you a momma again over and over is making it hard to resist rolling over onto your back for him.

and he can sense it, can see it in your face, the way your brows twitch as he grows harder under your touch. it's so cute, actually, how hard you try, knowing he's going to pounce any minute.

but he plays your game, he lets you remain 'in control', though you're anything but.

slowly, you sit up on his lap and begin to unbuckle his belt. time isn't exactly a luxury you can both often afford, what with a newborn baby, but you're too in the moment to care about speeding things up just yet.

his hands rest on your hips, digits digging into the skin as he practices restraint. he wants nothing more than to buck up into you, to throw you on the bed and take you. but he waits. like a good boy.

once he's freed from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, you hum softly at the sight of him, long, thick and ready. your mouth waters at the view, and his eyes widen when you begin to lower your head towards his begging, leaking tip. slowly, oh-so slowly.

logans large hand cups the back of your head, easily engulfing you in his grasp as he guides you lower until he feels it. your tongue. it teases across the tip before you're suddenly wrapping your lips around him. his eyes widen further, letting out a grunt as you take him by surprise.

"holy fuck," he huffs in a grin, "hungry for my cock, huh baby?"

you know now that your control is gone, given up happily and submissively. you know it in the grip he has on your hair, the way he's easing you up and down on his cock. and you'd give him everything if you could, the stars in the sky, the whole world if it were possible.

"that's it, get me nice and ready. . ." he mumbles, losing himself a little in the pleasure, the words dripping from his tongue like honey.

you're not sure what deal logan made with the devil to have the ability to talk as sweetly yet as filthy as he does, as well as he does, but you feel entirely grateful as his sinful words serve to dampen your underwear. you moan against his hardening cock, savouring the way every prominent vein feels against your soft tongue.

he pulls you back, looking into your lustful hazy eyes. you look so pretty like that, he thinks, lips red and swollen from sucking so well, eyes hooded and unfocused because you're thinking about how good that cock would feel stuffed deep somewhere else.

"c'mere," he coos, a hand on your hip guiding you forward to sit closer on his lap, "we need to get you nice and ready too, don't we?"

a growl rumbles from the back of his throat as his eyes travel down the path of your body, resting at the apex of your thighs. he purrs in delight when he notices you're already soaked through to your shorts. "wow, that worked up just from suckin' my cock, baby? you really do want me. . ."

you're bright red, shifting needily on his lap. it's always like this, he drives you to the brink of insanity with need before he's even started. you crave him, crave that thick length filling you so perfectly like it always does, and fuck, you'd give him a baby, you'd give him a hundred babies if it meant you get to experience this over and over again.

"shh," he whispers, his thumb snaking down to tease you through your shorts, applying just enough pressure to have you panting, "there we go, gettin' you nice and ready for my cock, my pretty girl. . ." his eyes flit to yours before returning his gaze to the soaked fabric.

"i am ready," you whine through a choked moan. you're literally dripping.

logan shakes his head, tutting, "tsk, tsk. . . need you extra ready for what i'm gonna do to you, you think i'm just gonna cum in you once?"

holy fuck. your head spins, reeling at his words as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. the ache between your legs grows, almost unbearable, pleading to be filled, used. his name leaves your lips in what can only be described as a needy mewl.

"no," he continues, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer, "see baby, i'm gonna cum in you, over and over. 'till you're nice and full, it's all i've been thinkin' about." his breath ghosts against your lips, "and you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you? gonna give me another baby?"

you moan breathlessly, how can you even respond to that? instead you nod quickly, swallowing hard as you try in a futile effort to stop your head from spinning.

but he loves you like this, needy, panting, desperate for his cock. sure, he might have been the one blushing earlier, but you're certainly a pretty shade of red now.

"use your words," he whispers against your lips, teasing you with the promise of a kiss, and a whole lot more.

you feel yourself clench again, his thumb still rubbing soft circles against your clit through your shorts, "please."

"please what?" logan grins, loving how your face twists in frustration.

a whine, "please fill me up, want to give you another baby, please? please, fuck, just fuck me."

he can't help but laugh softly at the needy words spilling from your lips in a desperate attempt to coax him inside. and it's working. his body thrums with pleasure as he remembers how good you feel, how he fits inside you like you were made for him, how good you take it when he gets a little rough.

"that's a good girl. . ." he hums, gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your back. his towering muscled form looms over you, your body opening up automatically, legs spreading and hands by your head. you want him to take you, take all of you. now.

"love this body, was made for me y'know. . ." logan mumbles lovingly as he kisses his way down the column of your throat, hands rubbing at your hips before they begin to inch up your shirt. it rises until it covers your face, and he keeps it there as he nips at your chest. "hm, no bra?" you feel his devious smirk against your skin, tongue beginning to flick teasingly at a nipple.

your back arches, the sensations amplified by the loss of sight. fuck, he loves to watch you squirm like this, and those noises you make. . .

he gives equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and kissing your breasts with increasing intensity, smirking all the while. finally, he pulls the shirt from your head, your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him and meet his hungry gaze.

logan begins kissing along your tummy, nuzzling against your soft skin, so close to where you want him yet so far. you want to beg, but you don't get the chance, because soon he's pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. he's greedy too.

kissing the skin that's exposed to him, his kisses trail down your mound, ending at the top of your glistening slit. "ah," he grins, eyes glowing like a man of great discovery, "there she is, she's missed me huh?"

all breath escapes your lungs as he licks a stripe along your pussy, groaning at the taste as he does so. he buries his face in you, licking and nudging your clit with his tongue as he devours you. logan swears it feels better for him than for you, could eat you out all day, but that's not what he's here for this time.

"you're so wet, holy fuck," he swallows, panting softly against your skin, "so good for me, so good, just-" giving a few quick kisses to your pussy, he pulls back and removes his shirt, "don't move."

you almost laugh, why would you want to go anywhere? with a man like logan who worships the ground you walk on, kisses you like it's the first time every time and fucks you within an inch of your life every time - you'd be crazy to want to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, where you belong.

he's worked himself out of his jeans and boxers too, admiring the view beneath him as he takes his cock in his hand, slapping it against your slit. with each squeak that escapes you, his smirk grows wider, "love those noises you make, just for me."

you gasp and arch your back as he begins to rub his tip against your wet folds. you're not sure who he's teasing more, himself or you. a moan slips from your lips each time his cock glides up against your clit, sending sparks to your core.

"that's it, feel how hard i am?" he whispers, "yeah, gonna cum so hard in that pretty little pussy, baby, is that what you want?"

you can hardly take it anymore, "god, yes."

he grins, positioning himself as he hooks your knees on top of his arms as he presses down, almost folding you in half. you gasp and grip the sheets at this new position, and gasp even louder as he quickly and easily slips inside of you. "fucking hell," logan huffs, "i hardly even had to move, you want it so fuckin' bad don't you? feel how deep i can get like this?"

and god, you can. you're not sure you've ever felt him this deep. all you know is how good it feels, his cock straining against your tight velvet walls, finally filling you.

when he begins to move, it's like nothing else. he starts at a slower pace, slow deep strokes as his hips meet yours, driving his cock even deeper as you open up to him. his eyes flutter shut and you admire him above you, knowing you're making him feel as good as he's making you feel.

you find your voice again, and speak up, "your cock feels so good baby, don't stop. . ." you get what you secretly wanted, a moan sneaks from his lips. it's soft, wanting, mirroring the need in your own voice. "fuck, love it when you moan for me. . ."

his eyes snap open, a flash of vulnerability and then his lips are crashing against yours. he kisses you with a deep passion as he moves inside you. logan loves the man he becomes when he fucks you, loves that he can let go, be soft, be rough, be whatever he feels. you'll accept him either way, because you're always a spent mess in the end. all for him.

"takin' my cock so well, always do," he huffs against your lips, driving himself a little deeper, wet sounds filling the air as he slips in and out, "gonna feel even better when i make you cum a few times, when you're so sensitive, taking every last drop i give ya."

you moan and pant, nodding, wordlessly begging him to continue.

"and you'll take it, huh, baby? take it cus you wanna make me a daddy again?" he growls, pace increasing as he fucks you harder, primal instinct taking over, "wanna make me proud and let me fill you as many times as i can? many times as i want?"

holy fuck, you can hardly think straight. in fact, you can hardly think at all. there's one thing, one thought swirling around the base of your skull, you don't want him to ever stop.

you clench around his thick cock and his brows lower, pressing his forehead against yours as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed is squeaking, begging for mercy as he continues, but you feel too good for him to hold back anymore. "baby please-"

"baby please what?" he snaps back, panting as he leans further into you, pushing your legs back until they're almost at your ears. you'd be shocked at your own flexibility if you could think at all. "please fill you up? please make you a mommy again? please what, huh? speak, baby, i can't hear you."

gasping at his tone, you feel your pussy flutter around him. he's gonna make you cum, fuck, you're gonna cum so hard. "i- baby i'm-"

but he doesn't let you finish your sentence, not that you'd make much sense at this point anyway. his cock twitches inside you, almost begging to be milked, begging to fill you until you can't take any more. "gonna cum?" logan whispers, already knowing the answer.

and you can't answer, because you're a mess, gasping and moaning and writhing as his cock makes light work of your wet pussy. his thick length glides in, and out, driving deep to meet your cervix with every thrust.

"cum on this cock," a firm command punctuated with a deep thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, "c'mon, make me cum, you wanted it, didn't you? want me to knock you up nice and good."

your orgasm approaches, a warmth spreading through your lower stomach, rising and rising each time his hips meet yours in his relentless pace. you want to tell him that it feels so good, but your words get caught in your throat. and all at once, your climax rips through you.

it comes in waves, building until your walls are spasming around him and he's cumming too, hot white ropes of cum pushed deeper and deeper as his pace quickens. you're both cursing, panting as his cock pushes it deeper and deeper as your pussy flutters and gushes.

even as the climax fades, he doesn't falter. "told you," logan growls, leaning up to grip your thighs, lifting your lower half to the perfect angle as he keeps it suspended in the air in his tight grip, "gonna cum in that pretty little pussy as many times as i can, 'till i know you're carrying my baby."

it's so overwhelming, in the best kind of way. you wriggle as he begins fucking you again, the new angle causing your eyes to roll back as he hits a certain spot that has you sobbing. it feels so fucking good, both his words and his actions causing you to throb.

"that's it, i know you can take it," he soothes you, "that's my girl, c'mon. . ."

tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure once again building to a crescendo. you don't want him to stop, don't want him to ever stop. though you're so very sensitive, and so very tired, you don't fucking care, all that matters right now is him and the messy love you're making.

he feels a tightening in his gut, his mind spiralling, obsessed with the idea of having another child with you. "you like it when i breed you?" he whispers suddenly, testing the waters.

fuck, that word. did he just say he was. . . breeding you?

logan feels the way you clench around him at the mention of the word and he grins, "yeah, you like that don't you? take that fucking cock like a good girl, let me breed you."

"please-" you beg, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. he's really into this, and so are you, unlocking a whole new side to one another as he fucks you fervently.

how can he resist when you beg so sweetly? he's so sensitive, but his need for release chases him, overwhelming him with how intense his second orgasm is. he spills into you, gasping and grunting as his grip on your thighs tightens. "oooooh f-fuck," logan groans, "feel that? feel me fucking my cum even deeper?"

you're both lost in pleasure now, and with his stamina you know he's not done yet. he grips your hips, flipping you onto your tummy as he grabs your ass, pulling it up for him. keeping his cock nice and warm inside you, he pauses for a few moments.

"can you take another one?" he asks, panting. he'd never push you past your limits, leaning down against your back to give you a gentle kiss on your neck.

your second release is coming, and though you're exhausted, you need more. "yes," you reply, gripping the pillow as he immediately begins to move.

his head tilts back, his palm sliding down your spine, feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused hand and the sensation of your body bouncing back against him. one hand grips your hip as he begins his movements, slowly fucking you, taking his time.

he knows you're close, and he knows your second release will have him cumming a third time, so he focuses on your pleasure. "that's it baby, taking it so well. . ."

you groan into the pillow beneath you, muffled by the fabric. it all sounds so wet, both your release and his dripping from your aching cunt. you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but who the fuck cares? he's fucking you so good you're not sure you'll ever be able to think clearly again.

he's reduced you to a puddle, wet and begging for more.

"such a good girl for me, lettin' me breed you. . ." his hand trails around your front, tickling down along your tummy until he finds your clit. it's swollen, sensitive, and as soon as he begins to play with you, you're a squealing mess.

he grins against your ear, groaning roughly, "you can take it, know you can, make me cum one more time."

you bounce back against him, feverishly chasing each movement, each time he pounds you sending you spiralling further and further into pleasure.

"gonna fuck a baby into you," he kisses behind your ear, "feel all that cum?"

a whine is all you can manage, sweat causing your hair to cling to your forehead, whole body hot and desperate. all for him, always for him.

"yeah you do, take it," he snarls, huffing as he feels his own release build once more. oh god, this one might destroy him. you feel too good wrapped around him like that, the way your wet pussy takes him in so gladly, cause it's his. you're his.

"'m gonna cum-" you cry, sobbing into the pillow as your thighs shake till you can't take it anymore. you're flat against the bed now, his body behind you, taking, pounding against you relentlessly like a man deprived.

but he can't speak, can only communicate in growls and gasps as he explodes inside you, sending you propelling towards your orgasm. it hits you like a bullet, deep, hard, teetering on painful but quickly replaced with so much satisfaction that your screams sound like howls.

he continues working your clit beneath you, slowing his pace until you're both a sweating, panting mess of limbs.

it takes him a while before he can find words, bringing a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see those features of yours he loves so much. "you alright?" logan asks with that rare soft voice he adopts when he's caring for you. his warm baritones make everything better, voice alone better than any sex.

"mh," you nod, world slowly returning to you in bits and pieces. he pulls out of you, taking a second to admire how very full of him you actually are. he can't help but bite his lip at the sight, watching as his cum leaks from your tight hole, fluttering from the loss of contact.

"didn't go too hard?" he asks, carefully and tenderly turning you onto your front as he grabs some spare pillows.

you shake your head, a smile curling on your lips as you bask in the afterglow, loving how sweetly he takes care of you. he lifts your hips with ease, placing some pillows below.

your eyes lock on one another and he grins, "what?" he asks, "said i was gonna get you pregnant, didn't i? gotta keep your hips elevated, keep me inside."

a flush falls upon your cheeks and you laugh breathlessly as he relaxes into the bed beside you, nuzzling into your neck. he fits against you so perfectly, arm wrapping around your waist while he presses gentle kisses to your skin.

but you feel a mischevious smirk tug on his lips against you, "what is it, logan," you ask in a drawl, grin taking over your features.

"well, was just thinkin'-"

"never a good idea, you, thinking. just leads to trouble," you tease.

he scoffs, "shut up," before continuing, "what're we gonna name out third baby?"

your eyes widen, "third?" he must have made a mistake, maybe he's too fucked out to think straight. you know you are.

"yeah," he grins, his hand snaking from your waist to rest on your tummy, giving it a gentle pat, "after this one."

"more?!" you gasp, slapping his hand with a giggle. "logan howlett." ugh, he's the worst.

he loves that reaction from you, he thinks it's cute you assume he's joking.

except, he isn't joking.

"yeah, c'mon, you think i'm gonna be able to stop at just two?"

you flush deeper, feeling his warm palm splay across your stomach as you tilt your chin down to look into his eyes.

"need names. lots of 'em." logan's eyes sparkle, he's trouble, always has been, and you love it. but you start to wonder if you should have bought a bigger house.

"start makin' a list. now."

[amaranthinespirit]

size difference with könig and virgin!reader

he knew it was going to hurt; any man the size of him would reflect that under his belt. any woman, no matter the body count, would be in for it during a night with a brute like him.

but when you came along, doe-eyed and so much smaller than him, something stirred on the bottom of his abdomen. behind the zipper of his jeans, his cock chubbed up at first glance.

he was already huge enough to see the outline of his bulge through his jeans, or whatever cargos, he wore, but his growing erection made it that much more obvious.

he had never been one to notice before, but with you, he couldn't help it. the way he dwarfed you as you stood by his side, your (much) smaller hand completely engulfed by his giant one.

despite the size difference, he was gentle—as gentle as he could be. a brute as big as him with a tiny doll like you—like porcelain, you were going to break. and he was going to be the one to break you.

he ruts his hips against yours, his bulbous tip collecting your slick along his cock. a whimper, or mewl, escaping your throat whenever he grazes your clit. his breathing is heavy, muttered curses and phrases in german under his breath.

"so eine hübsche muschi, nur für mich..." his voice is hushed and low, as if he's talking to himself about how heavenly your puffy lips are against his girthy cock.

he keeps a large hand around the base of his girthy dick, the other planted on the bed, just above your hip as he steadies himself. the bed is dipping heavily with the focused weight.

he finds himself growing impossibly harder at the sounds of your strained squeaks, watching the sweat bead down the side of your face before his eyes find where his cock lays heavy against your sopping cunt.

your thighs slick with arousal and previous climaxes as he had worked you open on his tongue and fingers, his skin glistening under the light. your juices painted his chin, his fingers pruned from being buried deep in your sensitive pussy, desperately swallowed by your spongy walls.

he hummed lowly, almost a groan as his hand around his girthy base slapped his cock against your slick labia, the head of his cock beating against your swollen, hypersensitive clit he'd been toying with all night.

"diese muschi gehört mir, nicht wahr? hmm...?" you knew not what he said, but his tone was smug, cocky as he gave your cunt a few more slaps with his dick, humping his length between your folds.

you were squirming under him, not even fucked by his huge cock yet, and you were already on the brink of overstimulation, teetering along the lines of being too much. but it was just right.

his hand propped on the bed found your waist, stilling you as his hips halted, dragging his tip down your pussy to your leaking slit. evidence of previous orgasms spilled from your hole, "shhh, sei still, mein schatz..." he cooed, a callouses thumb tracing along the soft, supple skin of your waist before digging his fingers into your flesh.

he needed self control as he lined his cock with your hole, teasing along the folds before beginning to split you in half. whimpers falling from your lips at the mere task of just fitting the tip past your entrance.

he groaned loudly at the way your pussy welcomed him, swallowing his bulbous head with a squelch and a tight pulse as he stretched you open. the previous rounds of his finger and tongue doing nothing to aid the sheer stretch of your cunt around his dick.

it hurt like hell as he inched his cock deeper, reveling in the way your face contorted, strangled cries leaving your lips as tears pricked your eyes. your face flushing pink as salty trails glistened down your heated cheeks.

it was like you were practically impaling yourself on his thick, meaty cock. your body being split down the middle to accommodate for such space he took up in your cunt, your spongy walls clamping tightly around his dick.

"Scheiße, schatz...du bist so eng..." he cursed, his hand around his girth retracting to his hip.

he watched as his cock sunk deeper past your puffy lips, the way your pussy swallowed him with a sickening, lewd squelch that made his eyes flutter shut. his hips bucked, followed by curses as he couldn't help himself from rocking his hips. speeding up to a comfortable pace.

the skin of your backside quickly flushed red as his pace became more and more relentless—he had told you before he wasn't good with virgins. you assured him you could handle it, and he promised he would try to be gentle. key word, try.

well, he had tried, and failed as his hips desperately rut into your heavenly, slick pussy with lewd sounds of your skin coming together rapidly. his full, heavy balls slapping against your backside with each time his hips pounded into your cunt.

he was a lost cause, muttering incoherent phrases of half-german, half-english. most of what you could pick out was praises to your pussy, how you were made to fit his cock in your tight hole—though you were too cock-drunk, babbling nonsense into moans under him to hear a word he said.

"verdammt, deine muschi ist der himmel, kleines mäuschen..." he praised in a coo, his body now leaning to cover yours, his heavy weight pressing your back further into the mattress, "so verdammt eng und nass..."

his hand on your waist slid down to your stomach, he swore he could feel the skin warp under his calloused prints as his bulbous tip slammed your cervix.

when his eyes finally left where your two body conjoined, up to your pretty face where tears streamed down your cheeks, disheveled hair splayed across the pillow behind your head and matted to your forehead. his eyes fluttered shut as his dick twitched and throbbed against your spongy walls.

your pained cries turned to whimpers and hiccuped moans, hands clawing at his back to pull him impossibly closer in a desperate attempt to feel him deeper.

it wasn't long until you felt another warmth building in your lower abdomen, familiar in feel to the previous, but so much more hammering as it built, and built, and built.

könig could feel how you sunk your nails into his back, as if you feared he would deny you the ecstasy of release. he felt the way your cunt clamped around him, pulsing in sync with your heartbeat—his too.

his hips faltered—he had never finished this quick, but then again, your pussy was like a fucking drug, and he was an addict.

"das ist es...that's it, mauschen..." he whispered breatlhessly into your ear, his heavy, warm breath against your skin as he waited for your release to boil over with his.

he moaned loudly against your sweat, sticky skin, uttering more praises under his breath as he felt his cock twitch. he watched the way your jaw went slack, how your body shuddered under him before going limp, boneless under his weight.

a shuddered breath slipped past his lips as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls a creamy, thick white as he filled you. his eyes fell back to your pussy, watching as he's milked dry of every last bit of his pearly, white cum.

he rubbed a rough thumb over your clit, watching you flinch and squirm from the sensitivity as he kept an eye on how his gooey release oozed from your hole, despite the fact his cock was still plugged inside of you.

he hummed lowly in appreciation as he took two fingers to spread the thick substance to coat your folds.

fuck, maus, you were ruined for anyone else now, guess you're stuck with him.

[iamthedukeofurl]

Discworld is an interesting beast in the age of ACAB. Like, the city watch books are a story about police and the way in which a good police force can help and protect people. Which would make it copoganda. And I'm not going to say that the City Watch books are completely free of copoganda, but they also do something interesting that fairly few stories about heroic police officers do, and I think it has a lot to do with Samuel Vimes. A lot of copoganda stories like, say, Brooklyn 99, are perfectly capable of portraying cops as cruel, bigoted, and greedy, but our central cast of characters are portrayed as good people who want to help their communities. The result is that the bad cops are portrayed as an aberration, while most cops can be assumed to be good people doing a tough job because they want to help protect people from the nebulous evil forces of "Crime". The police are considered to be naturally heroic. Pratchett does something very interesting, which is provide us with Vimes' perspective, and present us with an Unnaturally heroic police force. In Ahnk-Morpork, the natural state of the watch is a gang with extra paperwork. It's the place for people who, at best, just want a steady paycheck and at worst want an excuse to hit people with a truncheon. Rather than be an army defending people from the forces of Crime, the Watch is described as a sort of sleight-of-hand, big burly watchmen in shiny uniforms don't stand around in-case a Crime happens in their vicinity, they stand around to remind people that The Law exists and has teeth. The Watchmen are people, when danger rears it's head, their instinct is to hide and get out of the way. When faced with authority, their instinct is to bow to it out of fear of what it might do to them if they don't. Carrot is a genuine Hero, but his natural heroism is presented as an aberration. Normal Cops don't act like Carrot does. The fact that the Watch ends up acting like a Heroic Police Force is largely due to the leadership of Sam Vimes, but Vimes himself is a microcosm of the Watch. The base state of Sam Vimes would be an alchoholic bully of an officer, one who beats people until they confess to anything because that makes his job easier. Vimes The Hero is a homunculous, an artificial being created by Sam Vimes fighting back all those instincts and FORCING himself to behave as his conscience dictates. Vimes doesn't take bribes or let his officers do the same because, damnit, that sort of thing shouldn't happen, even if doing so would make things a lot easier. Vimes doesn't run towards sounds of screaming because he WANTS to, he forces himself to do so because somebody needs to. It's best summed up in Thud “Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Your Grace.” “I know that one,” said Vimes. “Who watches the watchmen? Me, Mr. Pessimal.” “Ah, but who watches you, Your Grace?” said the inspector with a brief little smile. “I do that, too. All the time,” said Vimes. “Believe me.”

In the hands of another writer, or another series, this exchange would be weirdly dismissive. To whom should the police be accountable to? Themselves, shut up and trust us. But from Vimes, it's a different story. Vimes DOES constantly watch himself, and he doesn't trust that bastard, he's known him his entire life. The Heroic Police are not a natural state, they're an ideal, and ahnk-morpork only gets anywhere close. Vimes is constantly struggling against his own instincts to take shortcuts, to let things slide, but he forces himself to live up to that ideal and the Watch follows his example. Discworld doesn't propose any solutions to the problems with policing in the real world. We don't have a Sam Vimes to run the NYPD and force them to behave. We don't have a Carrot Ironfounderson. But it's at least a story about detectives and police that I can read without feeling like I'm being sold propaganda about the Thin Blue Line.

[kateschi]

midnight check-in

synopsis: in the middle of the night, you are woken up by a call from your husband.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the phone buzzes on the nightstand, dragging you from the edge of sleep. squinting at the glowing screen, you see katsuki’s name flashing across it.

it’s late—past the time he should have been home, but not unusual given the unpredictability of hero work. swiping the call open, you press the phone to your ear, voice still heavy with sleep.

“did I wake you?”

his voice is rough, but familiar, crackling through the line like static.

there’s no apology in his tone, but you can hear the subtle hint of concern buried underneath, like he’s weighing whether he should’ve waited until morning to call.

“no,” you lie, sitting up and adjusting to the quiet darkness of the room. “it’s fine. what’s up? are you coming home soon?”

there’s a brief pause on the other end. you hear the faint shuffle of his gear, like he’s shifting in his seat, maybe still in the office or the agency car. “yeah, I’ll be home in a bit. just… wanted to check in.”

check in? katsuki doesn’t just check in. the man’s explosive, stubborn, and blunt to a fault—never the type to dance around what’s on his mind. so, when he calls you this late just to ‘check in,’ something feels off.

“everything okay?” you ask softly, leaning back against the headboard. your fingers toy with the edge of the blanket, tracing small patterns over the fabric.

“yeah, just a long-ass day,” he grumbles, his voice a little lower now. he’s tired, you can tell, but there’s something else lurking in the background of his words.

“didn’t mean to be out so late. I know I said I’d be back before—”

“katsuki,” you cut him off gently. “you don’t have to apologize for doing your job. I know how it is.”

he lets out a frustrated huff, and you can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s feeling restless.

“still,” he mutters. “I said I’d be there, and I’m not. doesn’t sit right with me.”

your heart softens at that. even though his words are gruff, katsuki has always had a way of showing he cares—usually in his own roundabout, katsuki-style way.

“you’re here now,” you say, your voice a little warmer. “that’s what matters. I’m just glad you called.”

another pause, this one heavier. there’s a slight crackle from his end, like he’s shifting again, probably leaning back in whatever chair he’s stuck in, the tension still clinging to him.

“yeah, well… I didn’t wanna wake up and find out you’re pissed I didn’t get home.” there’s a touch of humor in his voice, and you can practically hear the smirk on his lips. “figured I’d save myself the trouble.”

you chuckle softly, shaking your head. “you’re not getting out of trouble that easily, katsuki.”

“darn,” he clicks his tongue, but the familiar grumble in his tone makes you smile. it’s his way of saying he missed you, without actually saying it.

for a moment, there’s just comfortable silence between you.

the sound of his steady breathing on the other end of the line makes your chest ache a little—wanting him here, not just on the other side of a phone.

“you almost home?” you ask quietly, the warmth of the blankets doing little to fill the empty space beside you.

“yeah.” his voice softens, dropping just enough that you can tell he’s not as guarded anymore. “should be there in about ten.”

“good,” you murmur, stifling a yawn as you sink further into the bed, imagining him walking through the door any minute now. “I’ll wait for you.”

there’s a beat, a moment where his breathing catches ever so slightly, before he grumbles again, but softer this time. “you don’t have to stay up for me, y/n.”

“I want to.”

the silence that follows feels different—warmer, like he’s smiling, even if you can’t see it. and maybe it’s the exhaustion in your voice, or the way you said it so matter-of-factly, but something in him shifts.

you hear him let out a quiet breath, the kind he only ever lets out when he’s alone with you.

“...you’re such a damn idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to it. just warmth.

you smile into the phone, eyes already half-closed. “takes one to know one.”

he snorts at that, a rare sound of amusement that you love catching him off-guard with. “whatever. just keep your ass in bed. I’ll be there soon.”

“mhm,” you hum, already feeling the drowsiness tugging at you again, but there’s something in the comfort of his voice that keeps you tethered.

you shift slightly, hugging the blanket closer, waiting for the familiar click of the front door. before you drift off entirely, you murmur, “love you, katsuki.”

there’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he’s hung up. but then, quietly, with all the weight of a promise, he replies.

“yeah. love you too.”

the call ends with a soft click, but even after, the warmth of his voice lingers in the quiet room. you smile to yourself, feeling the space beside you growing less empty by the minute.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[kitasuno]

dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed. 

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas. 

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market) 

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once?? 

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you. 

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?” 

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone. 

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.” 

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh. 

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?” 

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate. 

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?” 

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent. 

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.” 

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck. 

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?” 

he smiles. “with flying colors.” 

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?) 

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him. 

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?” 

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

 is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease. 

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir. 

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone. 

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes. 

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?” 

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom. 

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!” 

he nips at your neck. 

“bedtime. now.” 

zayne

3 years older than you 

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car. 

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend. 

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you. 

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.” 

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!” 

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place. 

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car. 

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine. 

“drink up. doctor’s orders.” 

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. 

“thank you for waiting for me.”

[helladventurers]

Taking a couple days of break from Mario + Rabbids was a good call, I'm feeling a lot more refreshed and ready to take on the horrors of world 3 😤👏 I've almost reached the part I quit last time, I'm gonna make a executive decision and leave whatever stage I get stuck in for too long for later, so I don't lose any momentum

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

[kbwrites]

The Lord's Favorite CH.3

Synopsis: “And there you were, lying underneath the terrifying king, a man of immense power and ruthless intent, who would watch the world burn on a whim.”

prev ← → next

⚝content: trueform!Sukuna x f! reader, nsfw, mild language, voyeurism, sukuna has two cocks, pure smut, gentle sukuna

⚝wc: 2.2k

⚝a/n: please the messages I’ve been getting from this series have been so unhinged?? I love it

“I believe your presence is precisely what I crave.”

And you swear your brain ceases to function. When you regain awareness, you find yourself against the black silken sheets of Ryomen Sukuna’s enormous bed. The air is thick with the scent of incense, and the dim light from flickering candles casts long shadows across the room. And there you were, lying underneath the terrifying king, a man of immense power and ruthless intent, who would watch the world burn on a whim.

He looks down at you, two of his strong arms gripping your hips, the rough pads of his fingers digging painfully into your flesh. Your gaze flickers down to his body, taking in the sight of his rippling muscles, flexing with each subtle movement. His broad chest rises and falls at a steady pace, a stark contrast to the thunderous beating of your own heart. His crimson eyes hold a possessiveness, the gaze of a predator stalking its prey, intense and unyielding.

Ryomen Sukuna was alreadyterrifying fully clothed, but his naked form elicited a different fear in you altogether. Two thick cocks stood proud and eager. You try to take in every detail, thick veins running up the sides, flushed angry red tips dripping pre-cum down his monstrous shaft. Your breath catches in your throat, all of your saliva drying up as you force a swallow. His lips curl into a smile that sends shivers down your spine. He lowers his head to your ear, his breath searingly hot against your skin.

“You are aware I do not like waiting.” He growls.

“W… what would you like me to do My Lord?” The uncertainty in your tone is evident. He pulls back slightly, his gaze piercing through you with a mixture of disbelief and dark amusement.

Yes, you were younger than the other women in the castle, most of whom had come to serve after being widowed or hardened by life. But he assumed you’d had some knowledge. He had no need for concubines with no experience, anyone else who would dare enter his chambers without it would be swiftly dealt with. ‘Training pets’ was of no interest to him. But he couldn’t seem to ignore the way his cocks twitched at the thought of being the one who would ruin you. With a swift, almost effortless motion, his four powerful arms shift your position. Within the span of a heartbeat, he flips you over so that you find yourself straddling him, the change in position startlingly abrupt.

You’re momentarily paralyzed, a jolt of panic surging through you. What exactly were you supposed to do now? Theoretically, you knew what was expected, the steps that were supposed to follow, but… how?

༺═────────────═༻

On occasion, you found yourself wide awake during the night, the sound of the bed frame creaking and exaggerated moans muffled through the door connecting your room to Sukuna’s. Of course, Curiosity, that dangerous and ever-present impulse, got the better of you—and you innocently pressed your ear to the door. And of course, your eyes found their way to a convenient crack in the dark mahogany.

‘You should be ashamed, spying on your king’

You cursed yourself as you watched him. He laid on the bed, a woman—who you’d seen enter his chambers multiple times was bouncing up and down on his length. Crying out as her hands rested atop his broad chest. Two arms guided her hips and the other two rested behind his head. Her loud moans of pleasure, a stark contrast between his low grunts. Your hand clasps over your mouth, suppressing your gasps as your own hand reached under your nightgown.

The sounds of skin slapping, squelching, and the woman’s theatrical wails acted as cover to your own quiet moans. As it continues Ryomen's head suddenly turns to the side, eye locking directly onto the door. A menacing smile spreads across his lips. Your blood runs cold as you make direct eye contact with your lord.

You cease your movements, tiptoeing back to your bed. Squeezing your thighs together, to desperately cool the unbearable heat.

“My…. lord… what are you looking at?” She gasps in between thrusts. You only hear a slap before covering your ears and praying it was just coincidence his eyes fell on that part of the room.

And from his lack of mention, you thought you had gotten away with it.

༺═────────────═༻

And now you sit between his two muscular legs, the same way you saw that woman do. Staring down his two thick members. A shaky hand wraps around one, unable to grip him fully. A soft moan escapes his lips as you feel his cock twitch under your touch. You begin to pump slowly, your movements hesitant. 

“Don’t..act so coy, I know you’ve seen this before.” And your heart drops in your stomach. You search for an excuse, a denial, but they all die in your throat. He only grins in response, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. One arm reaches behind your head, gently pushing your face mere inches away from his throbbing length. Your eyes flicker up to him then back down to his angry red tip, after a deep shaky breath you gather some spit in your mouth allowing it to flow onto him. He groans at the sensation, hand gripping your hair tightly. 

You loll your tongue out, smearing the spit and pre-cum around his tip. Your other hand wraps around as well. Sukuna growls as your mouth engulfs him, tongue swirling around his head. He pushes your head down slowly, your mouth stretching at his size. Tears well up in your eyes as he hits the back of your esophagus, sinful gagging noises emanate from your throat. He hums amused.

“This view suits you…” He chuckles lowly as his hands guide your head up and down his shaft. He sets the pace, before letting go of your head. You look up at him through your fluttering eyelashes, the tears pooling in your eyes. Sukuna lies against the plush pillow, hands giving attention to his aching second cock. His breath hitches as his hips buck up, his length pushing even deeper into your throat. A sudden feeling of choking causes you to come up for air, coughing as oxygen finally enters your lungs again. A wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

How pathetic you must look to your king, not even able to provide him with pleasure.

Ryomen grabs your waist, pulling you back under him. His eyes, darken as he pushes his body closer to you. A low thunderous rumble reverberates from his throat as his spit-soaked length finds friction against your stomach. You feel your own arousal pool between your legs as you are overwhelmed with a dangerous mix of fear and desire.

His lips capture yours in a rough kiss, sharp teeth baring down on your bottom lip as his tongue explores your mouth. Your soft moans are swallowed by him as his strong hands roam your naked body. He parts from the kiss, a trail of spit still connecting you two. He looks upon your panting form, without a second thought diving into your neck nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. Two hands grope your breasts, rolling the swollen buds between his fingers. He squeezes gently as you whimper under him, moving his mouth to encircle your nipple. The heat between your core nearing unbearable.

“My.. lord… p-please..” You cry out, his teeth graze your nipple, a warning. He huffs against your skin.

“Do not rush me, woman.” His mouth moves to your other breast. Staring up at the high, ornately decorated ceiling of Ryomen’s chambers, you find yourself drifting into a daze. Suddenly coming to when you feel a rough hand reach between your wet folds. Sukuna purrs lowly, gathering your slick between his fingers. Your gaze meets his once more, you desperately squirm against his hand.

“Already so eager… surely you realize you’ll break if I try to fuck you.” His voice laced with playful menace as his fingers tease your entrance. Your vision hazes as you look up at your king, your bruised lips part taking in shaky breaths in anticipation.

One thick finger enters, pumping into you slowly as you feel your whole body turn to jelly. Sukuna chuckles darkly as you writhe under him, he adds another thick digit giving you just a second to adjust to the slight stretch. You feel a pressure building in your abdomen, similar to the one you felt the night you spied on your king.

“You’re close, aren’t you… How disappointing it's just from my fingers.” He coos bringing his other hand to your throbbing clit. He speeds up his ministrations, slipping in a third finger to bring you closer to the edge. A slight curve upwards is all it takes for your sinful walls to clench around his fingers, your back arches as you are delivered to a place you’ve never been before. The unfamiliar feeling of orgasm, the pleasure of release washes over your body.

Ryomen removes his fingers from you, watching as your hole flutters around nothing, he brings the slick-coated fingers to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste the fruits of his labor. You catch your breath as you feel his weight pushing you deeper into the sheets. His crimson eyes bore holes in your soul as he looks down at you with pure hunger in his gaze. One of his cocks rubs between your folds, gathering your arousal. A flash of hesitation crosses your face.

“I do not expect you to take both your first time.” He attempts reassurance. His cockhead rubs up and down, kissing your clit before pushing into your hole. 

He growls as he slowly enters you, feeling the warmth of your walls enveloping him. You wince at the stretch, tears pricking your eyes. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb wiping away the tears as they fall. He hushes your cries with a gentleness previously unknown to him.

“Relax little one… I hnng am going as slow as possible.” He moans as more of his length is surrounded by you. The way your warm walls clench around his thick cock makes his eyes roll, you were so tight, a temptress made to bring him to his knees. A vision of utter seduction. Buried deep in your pussy, you could ask anything and surely he’d grant every one of your desires. “You.. fucking minx.” He curses as his tip kisses your cervix.

Your hands claw at his chiseled chest as you feel him reach the depths of your cavern. 

“Lord Sukuna! T’much!” Your words come out jumbled and slurred as he begins to thrust into you. His pace slow, painfully so. His face etched with utter concentration as he tries to control his urge to split you open. With each long stroke, you feel every vein as he drags along your walls. Feeling deliciously full as King Sukuna pumps purposefully into your cunt.

“F…Faster please my lord..” You whisper shamelessly, his eyebrow quirks up in amusement.

“You dare…order your king?” He sneers, picking up the pace anyway. His hips stutter as he feels your cunt squeeze around him. Sukuna pulls you up to him, now resting on his heels as his two strong arms hold your back and the others hold your hips in place. Your arms snake around his neck supporting yourself as he pistons into you.

His thrusts become less rhythmic as he nears his breaking point. He grunts louder, his breath quickening.

“You belong to me… fuck… you hear me woman?  All mine. Mineminemine...” He groans and babbles as he delivers one last thrust, his cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot sticky seed. Your back arches in his hold as you reach your climax. He watches as your body convulses, melting like putty into his hands. He lowers you back onto the mattress, watching as your chest heaves. He slides his cock out of you, still semi-hard now covered in a mixture of your slick and his cum.

You take in the sight above you: his slightly damp pink hair, tattooed arms now bearing tiny welts from your scratches. And the look on his face—his red eyes nearly black from arousal. Gods, you wished you could take a picture, a snapshot burned into your brain for eternity.

He sinks into the space next to you, catching his breath. You are quiet for a moment, mind still reeling from the events that just transpired. Should you stay? Were you meant to just up and leave after? Unease coils in your chest as you sit up, gathering yourself for the short walk to your room before you hear his voice again.

“ Where do you think you’re going?” His voice laced with a hint of annoyance. You glance over your shoulder to see him propped up on one of his hands, his gaze dark.

“I thought you’d want me to—”

“You will stay. You will… sleep here with me.” he commands softly, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulls you onto his broad chest. Your ear presses against his pectoral, the strong, steady beat of his heart thrumming through you like a soothing lullaby. You look up at him, his eyes are closed as he rests his hand atop your head. 

“Sleep…” he murmurs, his voice a deep, husky whisper before his soft snores soon rumble in his chest. You close your eyes as well, drifting off as you lay on the man who’d watch the world burn… for you.

taglist (I added who I could, some blogs were unable to be tagged!! FULL NOW IM SORRY) @quinnyundertow @devastyle @bokuatsubro @alt-her @novembersavior @twinkyjohnson @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @bubb13gumb1tch @kalulakunundrum @flowerpot113 @caratinluv @koyukilove @memers666 @saikilover7878 @smolbeanzzz @byul9158 @shadava @bellinghambby22 @pastelbunnelby @jvg02 @ohmykwonsoonyoung @goldenglow149 @imnotabot28 @s1urpjuic3 @nctislifue @szired @mold-ed @fuyuji-ii @samisfunky @junni-berry @call-memissbrightside @wil10wthetree @iamthehybrid @poemzcheng @00frenchfries00 @greentea-ellie @worldean @klutzylaena @heyheyheyggg @hillmiaxoxo @lashaemorow @kuudere-raia @didielly @thejujvtsupost @malazloje @dumplings4life0520 @kum1ko-chan @paprikaquinn @damnshorty @dumbmi

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

[rinasauruss]

closer than quiet

summary: Rafe is so tall he has to lean down to hear you better. that's it.

warnings: none, me thinks. just a suggestive line at the end ;P

word count: 590

A/N: I couldn't help myself, so I wrote this blurb! this is my first time writing Rafe, let me know what you think! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. feedback is appreciated!

The soft hum of the waves was a steady background to the crackling of the bonfire, the flames dancing as the heat mixed with the cool bite of the night breeze. You stood near the fire, feeling the warmth spread through you, but the presence behind you was what made your skin tingle the most.

Rafe was close, an arm wrapped around your waist with a casual ease that made you feel both safe and exposed at the same time. His thumb traced slow, absent circles over your stomach, his other hand holding a beer with the same relaxed grip he used when he wasn’t thinking about much at all. Topper and Kelce were deep in conversation, their voices more distant than usual, as if the world around you had faded into something quieter. Rafe barely added to the chatter, content to stay in his own head—or maybe it was you who had his full attention. You weren’t sure, but it felt like you did.

You turned your head, looking up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You good?" You asked it quietly, as though you already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it anyway.

Rafe didn’t immediately respond, the sound of the ocean filling the silence. Instead, he leaned down, tilting his head as if to catch the softest whisper, even though you’d only spoken in your normal tone. His presence grew even more intense with the movement, his height hovering over you, his face drawing closer in that effortless, unspoken way that made you feel smaller and more drawn in with each inch.

"Hm?" His voice was low, just above a murmur, the sound of it vibrating through your chest.

You flushed at the gesture, a subtle warmth rising in your cheeks. His closeness, his height, the way he made the space around you feel like it shrank to just the two of you—it was disarming in the best way. His breath fanned over your skin, the warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine, and you could almost feel the heartbeat beneath his chest as he leaned in further.

You swallowed, your voice a little shakier this time. "You doing good?" You repeated, hoping your tone sounded steady, but there was no hiding the way he affected you.

Rafe’s grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he felt the slight hitch in your breath, his arm tightening around your waist, pulling you even closer. It was as though he knew exactly how much he was making you feel.

"Yeah, m'good, baby," he hummed, his voice deepening in that way it did when he was in his element. "Just thinking."

"About?" you asked, a whisper now, almost afraid to ask but too curious to hold back.

He tilted his head again, moving in just a little further, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. The closeness, the heat of his breath, was enough to send a shiver all the way down your spine, leaving you breathless.

The moment stretched between you, charged with unspoken words and everything that lay beneath the surface. The bonfire crackled, the night air was cool, but Rafe’s presence was all you could feel now, the pull of him drawing you in further than you’d ever planned to go.

His voice was soft, smooth, laced with that teasing edge that always made your heart skip a beat. "Just thinking about how much fun I’m gonna have taking this little dress off you later."

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