#Wrote this in 20 minutes

[ffsg0jo]

tw: suggestive and also pretend everything ended after gojo was unsealed and that everyone's alive !!

you shouldn't be feeling this way. the entire world was in disarray, still recovering from the aftershock of chaos and destruction stomping hand in hand through the streets.

but your husband had changed drastically. since escaping the prison realm, he'd gotten thicker, bulkier, his frame now matching his larger than life ego.

the way his t-shirt deliciously hugged and stretched against his biceps. the baggy, white martial arts pants (which are almost see-through in the sunlight) left so much to the imagination, and god, you couldn't stop imagining what was underneath.

the pretty little bow tying it all together was just calling you, begging you to untie it and sink to your knees, revering him the way he deserved to be. you wanted your husband so badly that you couldn't focus on any of the tasks at hand. major damage control and cleanup were needed, but your mind was only on your husband. it was pathetic, and you felt ashamed, but you needed him, entire world be damned.

it was like a switch flicked in your brain. the 20 days he was locked up, you spent it all in a constant state of panic and worry, fighting to stay alive and to keep your students alive too. and the moment you saw satoru, you were taken aback, rooted to the spot.

there he was, your satoru in all his infinite glory. as he ran and gathered you up in his arms, you couldn't help but slightly whimper at the feeling of his taut muscles pressing against your softer form. he felt so good against your body and finally in your arms.

satoru, well versed in your body language, immediately understood what was going through your head. the same could be said for him, too. he spent hours upon hours alone in the prison realm, his body devoid of your touch, aching for you. not a second went by where he didn't think about your lips pressed against his heated skin and indulging in your soft, silky, warmth.

he could feel the blood rushing south as he heard you whimper. satoru wanted to kiss you so bad, but he knew if he did, he'd end up taking you right here, right now in front of everyone.

he pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, another stamped lovingly onto your hairline. satoru held your face in his palms, forehead pressed against yours. his blue eyes shining with unshed tears, mirroring yours. god, he missed his wife so much. his sweet, sweet girl.

satoru's gaze softened, drinking you in properly now. he sees the bags under your eyes and tear tracks engrained into your cheeks. his soul breaks, as he realises how devastated and hearbroken you must have been.

"i love you so much," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your soft lips. "and i'm not going anywhere, my love. i promise."

you couldn't stop yourself leaning up and capturing satoru's lips in a frenzied kiss, you both groaning at the contact. satoru angled your face closer to his, his nose pressing deliciously into yours. he deepened the kiss, gasping at the way you tugged at his slightly overgrown undercut. you took that as an opportunity to slide your tongue past his lips and lick into his mouth.

he tongue fought against yours, wanting to taste every inch of your mouth. the kiss was becoming way too heated. your body pulled flush against his, his hardening length pressing into your stomach, moans escaping both of your lips. satoru drank all your noises up greedily, savouring them on his tongue.

the sudden loud cough to your right made you both pause, realising where you were. collecting yourselves, you slowly pulled apart, a string of saliva splitting as you moved away from your husband, his hands falling to your waist.

you were both panting and out of breath, but that now that you'd gotten a taste, it wasn't enough. you needed to feel his bare skin on yours. you needed to be completely consumed by him. you needed more.

before turning to face his students' satoru smirked at you. you never thought you'd say this, but you revelled in that stupid smirk of his.

'patience' his darkened, lust-filled eyes conveyed, his hands squeezing your waist, 'we have all night'.

i am taking requests and writing fics for gaza. check the linked post out to find out more !!

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[junosmindpalace]

satoru first met you as a young adult through a friend you were dating at the time. you were witty, kind, and attractive too; he could immediately tell after a single conversation why his friend would like you. which is why he was dumbfounded over how horribly he treated you.

he’d stare in nearly mute disbelief with his mouth open as this friend of his acted like a total asshole toward you, constantly trying to “put you in your place” in his words, words that made satoru subconsciously clench his jaw.

the only good that came from being with this guy was the fact that you got to see satoru quite often. you two hit off your first meeting right away, and quickly became good friends. and as the two of you got closer, the more satoru learned of the horrible ways his friend treated you, and the harder it got for him to mind his business.

he remembers your first kiss well. there was hesitation in every move you made before satoru eventually took the lead, kissing you over and over and over, pulling away for not even a second before crashing his lips back onto yours feverishly. and you knew as you held each others faces that that boyfriend of yours had to go.

you told him to be mature, that it was already bad enough you cheated on your boyfriend with his own friend. but he simply shrugged his shoulders and gave you a lazy smile (oh, and told you to quit calling that dickhead his friend).

you quipped at him when he snaked a smug (and protective) arm around your waist as your (now ex) boyfriend’s voice and actions grew more aggressive. and yeah, maybe he did have a right to be upset. but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty any longer. not when his reaction reminded you of so many of his other outbursts, not when you knew you were leaving a difficult relationship and had satoru’s support throughout the whole ordeal.

you had kissed, sure, but it took time before you officially started dating.

“i’m not going to stoop to his level. i want you to feel ready.”

and if anyone were to ask about how the two of you got together today, satoru would proudly tell the story with animated gestures and exaggerated details, all of which earned him a smack on the chest from you, his now and forever partner.

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

soft dom stevie punishing you with fake sympathy and little shh’s

he loves it. watching his poor girl crumble underneath him. begging him and whining while he fucks you. one of his hands lifting your hips off the bed while the other squeezes the sides of your neck. fucking you till youre about to cum after being edged four times before. not even able to ask him like you usually would because hes fucked you so dumb, before pulling away right before you can orgasm. stroking your damp hair away from your face, radiating sweat and desire while you whine and chant his name.

“shhh, i know baby. poor thing, so wet for me. youre so beautiful. love it when youre fucked dumb like this. shhh, its okay, im gonna take care of you baby. sweet thing.” he coos, before kissing your lips and then your forehead.

and then he starts fucking you harder, faster and with intent. youre whining and moaning so much hes sure his neighbors could hear if they stepped outside. kissing you so softly and sweetly while he pounds into you. moving down to take your right nipple into his mouth while he rolls the left between his thumb and index finger. repeating the motion with the other. lifting your legs over his shoulders and finally bringing his hand to his mouth, coating his fingers with spit to add to your already wet clit. rubbing steady circles into it.

“fuck, i cant wait anymore. you want to cum sweetheart? yeah? what a good girl, baby. been so good to me. poor thing just needed to get fucked, huh? got to get my sweet, happy girl back. cmon, cum with me. let me fill up this pretty cunt, sweetheart.”

as soon as you felt his hot cum inside you, the wall broke. his name left your lips and youre screaming in ecstasy. sweet voice filling the room, making his head feel fuzzy. fucking his cum into you. cum spurting out of his pretty cock for a good 20 seconds until hes shaking above you, panting and red faced. falling down next to you and pulling you into his chest while you pant and kiss each-other all over.

“good job baby. god. im so lucky. cmon baby, lets go run you a bath.”

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[hanaonesflower]

“Princess, can I ask you something?” He speaks, breaking the silence of the long, uneventful car ride. “Sure, anything!” You chirp, unsuspecting of what is to come.

“Why don’t you ever let me do anything for you?” Ushijima says, his eyes remain fixated on the long stretch of roads ahead. The fog heavily roll down the sides the hills on your either sides, lowering visibility. His hand tightens around the wheel, while the other grips yours.

“What do you mean by that?” You sit back, eyes wandering his features, looking for any sign that he’s just cheerfully asking you. Knowing Ushi though, he’s sometimes not as light hearted as you’d think.

“You are always so insistent on doing everything yourself. You won’t let me help you, like earlier, when you refused to let me tie your shoes. That isn’t the first time you refused my help.” He goes on a spiel, his thumb reaches to the toggle and lowers the volume, making his breathing more prominent than ever. It has occur to you that you have always been doing everything by yourself despite his looming figure always by your side. The hyperindependence is slowly starting to bother him. He wants to help you, wants to give you the fullest extent of a princess treatment yet the only thing really holding him back from that is, you.

“It’s just something that I could easily have done for myself, you didn’t need to bother with that, don’t worry, baby,” you try to comfort him, hoping some words of affirmation can help. It really isn’t a big deal, it’s some shoe laces that came undone, not a heavy errand.

As soon as the car is pulled into a parking spot at a rest stop, quickly shifting the car in “park”, turning to you and he sighs. A real sigh. One so full of frustration and… hopelessness. “I’m not bothered. It has never mattered how big or small anything is, I want to do everything for you. Why are you holding yourself back from me?” He is starting to put things into perspective for you. After going through a useless ex-boyfriend, then a man who gave you hot and cold attention, lastly a guy who gave you princess treatment to fill his inflated ego before meeting Ushijima, learning to only rely on yourself has been the protector of your heart, your soul and your sanity. You find that by depending on your good ol’ self is the only way to prevent yourself from throwing your body off a bridge.

“Ushi, it’s not—,” before you can finish your sentence, truthfully you don’t really know what to say. He’s right, you are holding yourself back from him. Holding yourself back from the hurt that you’ve known all too well, he interrupts, holding both your hands in his, “baby, you’re my priority, my everything, your well-being, happiness and comfort are my main concerns and I want it to be that way,” he stops, taking a breath. Reminiscent of the times where Ushijima offered to go so out of his way to help you but being kindly turned down has left him feeling absolutely useless and uneasy. Ushijima’s love language is act of service and because he hasn’t been able to do the bare minimum for you, he feels it eating him alive.

“I am aware of your past, I know that I can’t change what was, but I’m here to make a difference now, I mean it!” You are moved by his words, he means what he says and you know it. You’ve seen it. He’s a big man of his words, always keeping promises, has never ever disappointed you in any way. Yet the walls have been reinforced many times again that it has cemented itself in your life, creating a barrier between the two of you. “I want to open doors for you, pull out chairs for you, pick you up from a friend’s house, drop you off at the airport, all of that, please, baby, please just let me.” You have to say, it is like he is begging for you to allow him in, allow him to integrate further into your system, a system you’ve built to keep you from going down a slippery slope time and time again.

“I’m so grateful for you, Ushi, you’ve done so much for me, you really have. I just feel like I can’t be asking for anymore than what you’ve already given me,” before you can inhale a full breath, he branches his body over to your side of the car and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you melt. “I’m at your disposal, you are my world, let me in, don’t keep shutting me out,” he says, breaking away from the kiss.

You chuckle, “yes, Wakatoshi, I accept your offer,” and you’ve never seen him smile wider. A big, toothy grin coming from the infamously stoic dude. He kisses you again, “thank you, baby.”

He unbuckles your seatbelt, hastily running from his side to yours and opening the door for you, and just like the universe is rooting for the both of you, your shoe laces come undone, again.

[unpretty]

why am i so bad at drugs. caffeine makes me sleepy. alcohol is bone hurting juice. vicoden does nothing. the giant mouth-numbing syringe doesn't kick in properly until an hour after i left the dentist. i hit a vape pen and then i sit and wait 20-30 minutes. i say "this edible ain't shit" and nothing happens until 17 hours later when I wake up for work and realize i'm high. i am trying to misbehave but my own body keeps timegating me.

[robo-writing]

Sometimes I sit here and think about baby Logan, you know the one from the first X-men movie? With the grey hoodie? Yeah that baby Logan. Anyway, I think about Deadpool pulling worst Logan into more time shinaganen shit and of course worst Logan’s gf (who was his gf in his last universe but of course died during the attack, but this one either never met her universe Logan or something) and somehow, she runs into baby first Xmen Logan wearing the grey hoodie and running around clueless as where the hell he is, until he bumps into a surprisingly pretty woman who for some reason is cooing over him and calling him a precious baby,(and did she just pspspspsps at me?? I’m not a fucking cat? No the hair doesn’t look like cat ears?! The hell wrong with you lady?!) and he only gets her name before a older version of him in a gaudy yellow suit shows up to grab her and take her away, grumbling about having to keep track of two overgrown toddlers while a mouthy guy in a red leather suit says some stupid shit before following after the older version of Logan into some strange portal. Of course soon after baby Logan gets found by Xavier and when he ask who the woman named y/n is, Xavier just looks at him confused. (Of course perhaps that Logan will meet y/n a few years down the road, or he never sees her again, a shame really, she was quiet a looker, despite being so weird, he can stand being called a baby or a kitten by her again)

Waking up in a strange building is one thing, but walking out of an elevator to find a woman starting him down is another—especially when she keeps calling him kitty.

“Oh my god, look at you! You’re so young!” Her voice is high-pitched, oohing and ahhing at him like some kind of attraction. Maybe it’d piss him off more if you didn’t look so cute doing it.

“Cute lil kitten aren’t you? And your ears are so fluffy!”

You reach up to touch his hair, and he would grab your hand if someone else didn’t already beat him to it.

A gaudy yellow suit is the first thing he sees, then—what the fuck?

“Doll, I told you not to go wandering off,” the stranger says, and it’s now that his day goes from bizarre to fucking impossible because he’s staring at himself. Older, sure, but his voice, his body, damn near everything—

“Oh peanut! It’s time to go!” Says another man in a bright red jumpsuit, and he can hear the other man groan in response.

“Alright, you heard him.”

“Aw,” you complain, following after the two of them. “Wanted to pet him before we go.”

You wave to the younger man behind you, giving him a wink along with your name. “Come find me when you’re all grown up kitty! I’ll be waiting for you!”

“Wait—!”

His words fall on deaf ears, the trio disappearing soon after in a yellow doorway. His jaw drops, unsure of what just happened was real or if he’s just high as a fucking kite.

After a couple of introductions and many confused glances, he finds out that the three people he met are not students or professors, and that no one in the room had ever seen them before. Years pass along with many, many, life changing events and his odd welcome party becomes a memory of the past.

That is, until he finds out Charles has hired a new school counselor, and she looks just a bit too similar to be a coincidence. Once he gets over the shock he extends his hand, to which you accept.

“Names Logan.” He says, and you give yours in return, the same name you gave him all those years ago. It’s now that you point to his hair with a small smile.

“Do you style your hair or does it always come out like that?”

His eyebrow raises, unsure of the line of questioning. “Not really? Why do you ask?”

You open your mouth, then close it with a shake of your head. “Forget it, you’re gonna think it’s silly.”

“Oh yeah?” Logan replies. “Try me.”

You bite your lip, debating on whether you should speak, eventually choosing to bite the bullet. “Well, it’s just that your hair kinda looks like ears. Y’know, like a cat.”

His chuckle is instant, evolving into a laugh. You’re getting more and more nervous, afraid you said something wrong until his hand gives you a good pat on the shoulder.

“Y’know, you’re the second girl to tell me that,” he muses, leaning in close. “But come to think of it, ‘kitty’ has a better ring to it, don’tcha think?”

[choccorin]

i firmly believe that rin's the type of boyfriend who loves to kiss your hand ... he loves wrapping his slightly cold and callused hand around soft and warm ones, while you tell the café cashier both of your orders.

he loves interlocking your fingers together and rubbing small circles, sometimes hearts, on the top of your thumb as the two of you walk around the park.

he loves to kiss your knuckles everytime he senses that you feel nervous in public. it's his way of calming you down and telling you that you're not alone and that he's here beside you while he looks at you with the softest and loving eyes.

he loves to interlock your pinkies together as he waits for you to wake up, admiring how the sunlight perfectly hits your features, making you look breathtaking.

he loves taking your hand and giving your ring finger a soft peck, a quiet promise that someday he'll buy the prettiest ring there is and put it on your finger, indicating that he's yours and you're his.

[idyllcy]

every day is my birthday - tim drake x reader

"Happy birthdayyyyyyyy" You sing, grinning cheek to cheek as Tim glances up from taking his shoes off, your cake on the counter as he exhales.

"I thought you forgot."

"Why, cuz I slept in this morning instead of waking up like I usually do? You had your birthday breakfast in the fridge."

"What kind of madness were you up to last night? I heard the kitchen vent on from when I left for patrol until I came back." He collapses into your arms, mumbling.

"I was cooking." You hum. "Made choco chip cookies."

"For me?"

"Yes, sweetheart. For you." You hum, running your hands through his hair. "Cake's homemade too."

"God, I need to babytrap you."

"WHAT."

"Marriage isn't enough, I need to make sure you never leave me." He mumbles, squeezing you. "Sorry, tired. The meetings today wore me out."

"I figured." You pat his head. "Ready for cake?"

"Please." He grumbles. "By the way, hate your twitter post."

You purse your lips as you laugh, holding the knife in place before you accidentally cut someone while laughing.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[madaqueue]

gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (lots of hand-mouth fuckery)

some are born performers, made to be perceived, intrinsically commanding attention. everything about sukuna drew the spotlight, every pair of eyes landing on him another step he took higher in his ever-ascending ego.

so it came as no surprise that he adored when you watched him pleasure himself.

he knew his own body well, an intimate understanding of exactly where to touch, grab, pinch, bite. every place his fingertips grazed was purposeful, a slow, tantalizing path closer and closer and closer.

when the flesh of his palms opens to reveal sticky, drooling tongues, he guides them with ease along his skin, tracing the deep lines of his tattoos, following their paths down between his legs.

a gentle lick to the tip of his twitching cock.

lips wrapped around his heavy balls.

before you can believe it, saliva coats his skin, mixing with the precum rolling down his length, reflecting in the low light of his bedroom.

candlelight glimmers behind your eyes, traveling over the contours of his chest, unable to stray from his movements. he hadn’t even touched you, and yet you found yourself panting, skin burning hot.

his own gaze is locked on your face, the utter awe behind it. through a smirk, he lets out a low grunt - and you, you can’t help but whimper at the sound (just the reaction he was hoping for).

you don’t even need him to touch you anymore - you need to touch him.

against your better judgement, your arm extends towards him; it’s not even hesitant, you know what you need, it feels foolish to deny it when he’s right here, within arm’s reach-

but sukuna can’t let you interrupt the show. he immediately smacks you away with one of his free hands, silently scolding you, as if you should know better.

(and you do - but you just couldn’t help yourself. it’s not even your fault, not really - not when he looks so fucking ethereal, shadows dancing along the flexing muscles of his arms as they circle his cocks, abs tensing with each purposeful motion of the tongues writhing from his palms)

by now, there’s drool pooling along the corner of your own lips. sukuna is quick to point out just how ravished you already seem with a chuckle. “enjoying the show?” his low voice easily fills the space, as though he was the only thing you’ve ever heard, the only thing you’ll ever need to hear again.

your mouth is dry as you nod. within the kimono draped over your hips, you futilely attempt to adjust your position to quell the ache growing inside you, legs rubbing together as you shift along the comforter.

maroon eyes flit below your waist - perhaps the sign of your arousal was more visible under the dim light than you anticipated (or perhaps he can simply read the eagerness on your face).

he sighs through a sly grin. a free hand reaches to your place on the bed, before a sudden wetness licks up your inner thigh. you shudder in expectation as he purrs, “but what’s a show without its audience, after all?”

[fearandhatred]

the rapture

it's a holy thing, in theory, a glorious celebration, where those who believe rise to meet the lord in the air. it's a day of joy, in theory, and maybe even of vindication for those who have always believed.

but no one thinks about how it's like to see the dead rise again—bodies clawing their way out of bolted wood and six feet of packed earth, bodies decomposed and maggot-feasted, nails stained with rot and dirt. no one thinks about the violent lurch of their bodies being jolted into the air by the stomach, gravity flinging their heads back down to earth as they struggle in vain to find footing on molecules and gas. no one thinks about those who don't make it.

no one thinks about the screams.

crowley hadn't thought about any of these things. he certainly hadn't thought about the angels that would be called back to heaven along with the believers.

here they stand dead in the middle of absolute ruin, the promise of heaven the only thing left to look forward to on the wasteland of this earth. the sky has opened up like the eye of god, watching over her people for the very first time, and crowley's black wings against the beams of light only remind him that he doesn't belong up there with the rest of them. crowley wraps his arms tight around aziraphale, squeezes his torso like he can maybe keep aziraphale with him through sheer will or, laughably, demonic intervention. like love could ever be enough. like love could stay.

around them, the cacophony of wails and mockingly exaltant trumpets scorch the earth in their intensity, clashing and agonising even—especially—for them, and words make no sound. but they hold on to each other, even as they shrink into themselves against the noise of the undying. i don't want to leave you either, aziraphale doesn't say, but his hands dig into the cotton of crowley's sleeve, and crowley hears the words through his fingertips.

he feels a stronger upward resistance against his embrace now, and he clings tighter, steadfast, even as aziraphale's grip falters. but he knows he can't hold on forever. he knows that nothing ever lasts.

trembling with something unspeakable, he lifts his arms from aziraphale's torso and covers the angel's ears with his hands. he feels more than hearing aziraphale's resulting sob, and he spreads out his wings to wrap them around their bodies. a shield, a comfort, a goodbye.

it's okay, the gesture says in silence. i'll see you in another lifetime.

[pizzaqueen]

What’s that? Another first kiss ficlet from me?? Just over 500 words of fluff

“When was the last time you kissed someone?” Steve pauses, then adds, “Or were kissed.” Because there’s a difference. At least, Steve thinks there is. He’s usually the one doing the kissing but there have been a few times when he’s been kissed and… It’s definitely different.

“What?” Eddie looks up from where he’s rolling a joint, brow furrowed. “I don’t— Huh?”

“Kissing.” Steve leans on his elbow, propping his head on his hand. “When was the last time you did it.” He thinks a moment. “No, the last time you were really good and properly kissed.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know…” Steve lifts one shoulder. “Just the last really good perfect kiss.”

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t wanna talk about it…”

“I just don’t know.”

“Really?”

Eddie looks at Steve for a moment then rolls off the bed, going over to fiddle with the stereo. “Yeah, really.”

And that’s not right. Eddie should know when he was last kissed. He should be kissed all the time. By Steve, preferably.

Steve goes over, leaning back against the dresser so he can look at Eddie, but Eddie isn’t looking at him. Shit. He kicks Eddie’s foot and says, “Hey, man, it’s cool.”

Eddie sighs, ejecting a tape and switching it over to the other side. He looks at Steve. “It’s been years since I kissed anyone, okay, and it was… It was the wrong person. It was awkward and…” He shakes his head. “Not really a lot of opportunity for me to kiss the right kind of person in Hawkins.”

Oh. Steve has wondered. Mostly at the back of his mind, but… The way Eddie doesn’t talk about things like kissing, or dates, or sex makes sense. Well, he doesn’t talk about them in specifics. It’s always vague. “That’s not right.”

“What?”

“I mean, you should be kissed.”

“Why?”

“You just should be.” Steve leans a little closer, heart beating hard.

Eddie presses play and crosses his arms over his chest. “You got any volunteers in mind?”

“I might.” Steve looks at Eddie a moment, then he reaches out, curling his fingers around Eddie’s wrist, tugging until Eddie unfolds his arms. “But it depends how you feel about the person I’m thinking of.”

Eddie looks over Steve’s face, searching, and then he says, “I don’t— I don’t wanna be wrong about this,” and Steve slides his hand down until he’s palm to palm with Eddie. Eddie makes a choked little noise and laces his fingers with Steve’s. He raises his brows in question, looking at Steve so open and hopeful that Steve’s chest squeezes tight.

So, he pulls on their joined hands, raises his other to cup Eddie’s face, and softly, gently kisses him. He kisses him and kisses him, the way Eddie should be kissed, the way he hopes—is pretty sure—Eddie wants to be kissed. And then Eddie brings his hand up to Steve’s face and then Eddie is kissing him. And it’s so so good.

When they part, Eddie licks his lips and says, “Today.”

“What?”

“That was the last time I was good and properly kissed.”

Steve smiles and says, “It won’t be the last time,” and he kisses Eddie again.

[tddoodles]

Okay, listen Courtney as a deer faun

[clementine-thedestroyer]

Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming with college professors Ghost and Price x TA!reader

This is just my typical brand of shameless bullshit- you’ve been warned. There’s a wee bit of angst and a hint of smut at the end, but it should be safe besides that.

You were a graduate student, working on your masters degree while working part time as teaching assistant to try and make ends meet. And somehow, you’d managed to fall into bed with two of the best looking men on the entire campus.

The conflict of interest is minimal- the two of them work in a completely different department than you (probably history or math, if we’re being honest) and you know that they’re both mature enough men that if something did happen between the three of you, they’d be able to stay professional afterwards.

And even if did work in your department, christ- you may gone for it anyways.

John was tall and strong, always wearing some variation of the same slacks, dress shirt, and tie with a dark brown linen jacket on hand for colder days. The shirts he wore always seemed to fit him perfectly, tucking into his slacks with just the right amount of fabric left over to emphasize his figure without being too tight. There’d been a week where the A/C had been on the fritz- in the middle of a heat wave, naturally- and you were blessed with an entire week of watching John lecture from the chair behind his desk- rolled-up sleeves straining around his thick arms as he gradually gets more and more red in the face as class goes on.

And Simon- he was taller than John, but just barely- no more than a few inches. He was quiet at first, avoiding speaking directly to you until Price had made his interest clear.

You’d always been intrigued by the both of them, really. But with the mask Simon wore- both the figurative, and literal one- on a day to day basis, it made sense that you found John easier to approach.

Your first date with him had been nice- pleasant. It was everything you expected of a typical first date while still being the best one you’d ever had, by far. It wasn’t until a few days later that you learned about Simon’s place in the whole thing.

Of course, you’d known what an open relationship was before then, but you hadn’t really had much experience with them, and you certainly hadn’t been expecting to learn that John was in any sort of relationship at all.

It had been a point of uncertainty for you, at first. You’d be going into a situation where these two had been together for years- would it even be possible to be involved with them without being left feeling like an awkward 3rd wheel? There were so many possible points of contention- of conflict. You were just… worried.

John had told you that he’d understand if you decided you weren’t interested anymore- but he’d also told you that both he and Simon were interested in at least getting to know you.

So you’d agreed to give it a try.

At first, it was a bit difficult- you’d tried talking to Simon a few times- getting to know him, ect- but he’s always seemed so cold towards you. All of your attempts at small talk or asking questions about him were met with grunts or sharp, one word awnsers that sometimes didn’t even awnser your questions in the first place.

You’d taken the hint- slinking off back to John with your tail tucked between your legs like a scolded puppy.

John had laughed when you confided in him your suspicions that Simon did, in fact, hate you and everything you stood for. He’d laughed, patting you on the back as he told you that no, Simon didn’t hate you. In fact- he’d been the deciding factor in involving you with their relationship in the first place.

But try as you might, you just couldn’t reconcile the way Simon seemed to loath your very presence with the idea that he wanted anything at all to do with you.

So you’d started avoiding him. Nothing much- just not going out of your way to talk to him unless he noticed you.

In the mean time, your relationship with John progressed. After about a month or so, you’d had sex with him for the first time, and things were good between you- even if you felt a pang of guilt, feeling that you were keeping John from Simon whenever you were with him. That must be why Simon hates you, right? You’re keeping his partner away from him. Sure, you knew that he was okay with it, and that it was something they both agreed on, but there was no way he didn’t resent you the slightest bit for taking up John’s time.

It was for nearly three months that you believed that, at least until the first time the three of you had fallen into bed together all at once.

You’d been sitting with John in his office, waiting for him to finish up some work. At some point, your impatience and borderline bratting must’ve worn too hard on John’s nerves, because he’d given you a final warning: if you didn’t quit with the attitude, you wouldn’t like what happened.

Of course, with him saying that, you couldn’t just stop.

One more taunting line was what it took to make him snap. He’d stood up and grabbed you by the wrist, practically dragging you to his desk before bending you over his lap- yanking down your bottoms and shoving two thick fingers into your cunt.

He’d let you rut your clit desperately against the leg of his pants as he tried to get some work done, but every time you got close to cumming, he’d withdraw his fingers and force you to still with a heavy hand on your hip.

You’d been acting pathetic, really- whining and whimpering like a little bitch as you desperately tried to wiggle your hips enough to get off. You don’t remember how long you’d been doing that, but at some point, Simon had walked in.

Heat immediately flodded your face at your state of undress. You try to sit up, only for John’s free hand to catch you and push you back into place. Being effectively pinned in such an embarrassing position by John triggered a different kind of heat in you.

John had three fingers stretching you open by now, pistoning in and out of you at a lazy pace without a care in the world.

Simon is staring- standing in front of the door, teeth clenched and eyes fixed on where John’s hand is disappearing into you, transfixed on how your hole stretches and swallows the intrusion and by the shine and sheer amount of your slick on John’s fingers.

You try and call out for him- pleading for him to save you from your embarrassment- but it just comes out as a pitiful, garbled moan. Simon’s hand forms a fist, and you watch as he digs his nails into the skin of his palm. It was a reaction you’d easily mistake for anger, had you not just watched the rapidly growing bulge in his pants fill out further at your cry.

You’re sure you look absolutely pathetic right now- your cheek is smushed against John’s thigh, and your face is mess of smeared tears and drool.

But that doesn’t stop Simon from dropping to his knees and eating you out, keeping with John’s goal of edging you until the brattiness is well and good out of your system.

After that, Simon’s behavior towards you had completely changed.

He would touch you, for one, and seemed to enjoy when you would do the same to him. He spoke with you more too- cracking horrible jokes, poking fun at your quirks, ect.

Or maybe you’d just become better at interpreting his actions. After all, he was still often quiet- you’d just come to see it as him preferring to listen, rather than as a sign of dislike. Same with his responses, the curt, one word awnsers that you used to take as a sign of annoyance, you now see simply as how Simon speaks.

Either way, whether it was Simon’s attitude that had changed or your own, there’d been no more painfully awkward moments or feelings of guilt for you. The three of you got on together like you’d known them for years, and you couldn’t be happier.

[nipuni]

OH my god we just watched Dr.Who "Human Nature" and "Family of Blood"

[p4nishers]

he got my ass once with foreigner's god and he got my ass once again with butchered tongue. fuck u andrew honestly