#and most of these sound ridiculous even to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mulloey · 3 days ago

Note

so like… mtl likely to participate in hardcore cnc kink with the reader?

like, I think jun would be open to it because he’s good at acting and seems really observant but I’d like to see what your thoughts are on it and why ^-^

cnc with seventeen

first of all thanks to my girl @my-favefics for helping me with this!! and for getting me into writing svt in the first place.

this will be posted in three parts, beginning with the most eager and ending with the ones who might need a little convincing for it:)

warnings: cnc, rape roleplay, heavy dom/sub, the word ‘rape’ is used, fear play, manhandling, belting etc. this is intense. you’ve been warned. i’m not your babysitter and hate is blocked.

part one: the freaks

everything about cnc just screams seungcheol. he naturally assumes a dominant role over you, and he gets off on it too. the head rush he gets when you submit, giving yourself to him completely is comparable only to what he gets on stage—except with you, it’s so much more delicious. because you would let him do anything.

but what if he didn’t want you to let him?

what if he wanted you to struggle? what if he wanted to have to hold you down and force you to obey?

at first he’s disgusted with himself for having these thoughts. he feels like a terrible person, sick in the worst sense when he imagines you trying pathetically to fight him off, cowering and terrified when he finally subdues you. tears in your eyes as you beg him not to do this. beg him not to hurt you.

when he finally gathers the courage to bring it up he’s beyond nervous; stammering and shaking and refusing to meet your eyes until you grab his hand and nudge his face up to meet yours. “i wanna try it, cheollie,” you say.

silence, for a moment. “really?”

“yeah.”

you catch the glint in his eyes when he looks up at you; the darkness. the smile that grows on his face is nothing less than a warning.

he wouldn’t really be interested in the role play side of things; he doesn’t want to chase you down or break into the house with a knife. no, it wouldn’t do it for him if he were a stranger to you—it has to be him. you have to reject him. you have to be overpowered by him. you have to fear him—because it’s him. because you know the power he wields and all the things he’s capable of.

maybe he’ll make a move while you’re on the couch or in bed; you’ll make a show of pushing him off, hiding your excitement as you tell him you’re just not in the mood right now. and he’ll just tilt his head, cocking an eyebrow quizzically as he stares at you like you’ve just said something ridiculous. offensive, even.

“oh?” he says. “you’re saying no to me now? who taught you that, baby?”

“i have the right to say no, seungcheol.” you try to sound firm but your voice wobbles and his eyes flash with delight. “it’s my body.”

“oh is it?” he chuckles, a deep sound; and nothing about the man in front of you is the loving and considerate person he was seconds ago. “you really don’t know how this works, huh?”

“how what works?”

he moves quickly, pinning you to the couch and hovering over you like prey. “you let me have you,” he breathes. “you let me take you. that means i own you, baby. and you don’t say no to your owner.”

your breath hitches, adrenaline pulsing; despite your knowledge and delight at what’s happening a very real fear begins to pulsate as you kick and squirm under his grip, but he’s so strong he barely seems to notice. “this isn’t fucking funny, seungcheol,” you say. “i don’t like this.”

“poor thing,” he coos. “she doesn’t like this, huh? you know i could make this a lot worse for you, don’t you?”

“stop, cheol. please, i don’t—”

the strength of the slap seems to take you both by surprise; his eyes widen and you cry out, clutching your cheek but it only spurs him on. “you need to learn some respect,” he spits. “need to learn some fucking manners.”

you put up a good fight, of course; you kick and thrash and fight until your body gives out but he’s so much stronger than you—and if he has to physically drag you into position himself, or gag you with your own panties to stop you from screaming for help? then he fucking will.

it’s about time you learned your place.

—

you've always known jeonghan had a bit of a fear kink. and by a bit—well, he goes crazy for it. completely feral at the idea of you cowering beneath him; flinching when he raises his hand; reacting physically to his little displays of power.

it's his favourite game and it's yours too. it came up fairly early in your relationship; when you were just staring to explore more... extreme kinks, and had become aware of just how fucked up you both were. how much you loved it when he hit just a little too hard; used a bit too much pressure: pushed you just a little too far. he felt the way you'd clench around him when you broke down and cried; when he'd whisper threats in your ear and feel the pulse of fear rush through you.

so of course he wants to push it further. so do you.

so you don’t know why you’re so surprised when he comes up to you one day and asks if you want to play this new game he’s been thinking of.

from the look in his eye you have an inkling of what it might be; a hint of something so fucked up and depraved you’re the only person he could ever say it to. and you’re right, of course, as you usually are with him—but even you’re taken aback to hear the words “i want to rape you” come from his mouth.

“oh,” you whisper.

he raises an eyebrow, staring expectantly, if a little nervously at you. “what do you think?”

“it… in what context?” you ask.

“i mean… it wouldn’t be real, baby. you’d have a safeword. i just wanna… fuck.” he shakes his head, cheeks flushed already and it makes you pulse. he really, really wants this.

“wanna what?” you prompt.

“i wanna see you scared, pretty girl. like really, really terrified.”

oh. yes. you want to see that too.

he doesn’t tell you when he’s going to do it; wants it to be a surprise, he says. but you get a bit of a clue a few days later, when he reminds you seven times in the same morning what your safeword is.

still, for his sake you pretend to be surprised when the large presence behind you suddenly clamps a hand over you mouth and drags you over to the wall; slamming you into it with brute strength. there’s danger in his eyes; excitement on a level you’ve never seen and his dick is straining against his pants. “what do we have here?” he smiles. “walking around all pretty like that.” his eyes flicker down to your attire; the loose tshirt and panties clinging to your hips. “you were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking abou—”

he cuts you off with a hand around your throat, holding you in place with enough pressure to set your heart racing. “don’t lie,” he croons. “i know all about you, baby. i know how sluts dress when they’re wanting some attention.”

“i’m not lying.” you spit it through gritted teeth and his lips curl into a smile; somehow sweet and nauseating at the same time.

“well, let’s check, hm?”

you were definitely lying—you wore those pretty little panties you know he loves just to provoke him. unfortunately for you, your pussy does not lie, and when he slips two fingers into your panties his face tells you the jig is up.

“oh dear,” he muses. “i think you were lying, baby. i think you need to learn to tell the truth.”

“learn?” you echo. “how?”

his smile widens. “you ever had your ass fucked, dolly?”

that’s your cue, you decide; you shove him off you with all your strength and make a mad dash for the living room. he just watches you, amused more than irritated—he knows you’ve no chance of overpowering or escaping him. you just need to make a good attempt at it so you can feel like you resisted; can pretend you’re not just as aching for it as he is.

your tears don’t fool him; the sobbed pleas not to hurt you too much, not to do this, i’ll give you whatever you want, just please not this. they only spur him on—make his hips buck and his grip tighten on you. seeing you cry and writhe beneath him only makes him even more determined to destroy you—to ruin you in ways only he knows how. to make it hurt.

and he’d never tell you, but he was always a bit of a masochist too, so the cuts and scratches you leave while he subdues you only makes that first strangling squeeze of your asshole around his dick feel that much better.

—

minghao loves it when you cry. he really, really fucking loves it. to see you break down underneath him, calling his name pathetically between sobs; to see the tears on your face; the red cheeks and helpless eyes—to know that he’s the one who caused it all. there’s nothing like it on earth.

he wants to see you completely fucking broken. you’ve known it for a while now; you were just waiting for him to make the move.

he catches your arm one day as you’re walking past; pulling you towards him with a small smile. “by the way, sweetheart,” he purrs. “your safeword is turkey. don’t forget it.”

“why?” you giggle, sort of half-knowing already.

“because, pet,” he whispers. “from now on, unless you say that word… when you tell me stop, tell me too much, tell me it hurts… i’m gonna keep going. gonna use you til i’m satisfied. now doesn’t that sound fun?”

it really fucking does.

and once this new arrangements of yours is firmly established? he only gets more sadistic. he hits you harder, chokes you harder; drags you into alleyways and public bathrooms with a hand over your mouth just because he can. because you love it.

he’s been fucking you for what feels like hours now. you’re in the bed at least; a small mercy given how fond he’s become lately of forcing you onto all fours on the floor and fucking you until your knees are red and raw. but now your legs are stretched painfully as he holds them firmly on his shoulders and he’s drilling into you so hard it’s painful; saying such horrible things that it all just feels… too much.

and at the same time, it’s nowhere near enough.

but you know exactly what to say to get him to go harder.

“minghao.” you force the word out of your throat, raw and irritated from his earlier abuse. “stop.”

“what did you say?” he asks, not even slowing down for a second. “stop?”

“please, hao.”

he laughs, a sharp, bitter sound. “insolent little brat,” he grunts. “fucking bitch, you think you get to decide that? we’re done when i say we’re done, whore.”

“n-no,” you cry. you try to struggle, writhing under his grip and he slams his hand down on your clit, making you scream.

“yes,” he snarls. “shut up and take it, fuckdoll. this is my fucking pussy and i’ll use it until i’m done.”

you’re sobbing now, hot tears streaming down your face and he leans over you; eyes dark and delighted. “oh, that’s it,” he coos. “let it out, honey. i’ll take care of you. i’m gonna break your pretty brain until there’s nothing left.”

you can’t even talk now, too overwhelmed to think as the pace and force of his thrusts only quickens; you feel like you’re being split open, all your senses in overdrive and your entire body in pain and you’ve never, ever been more turned on.

he can tell.

“good girl,” he mutters. “so fucking wet for me. don’t worry, honey. i’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

he does.

—

if there’s one thing that gets wonwoo off, it’s your size difference. doesn’t matter how big; he just adores it. he adores the way you look so tiny and fragile under him; how small your hand looks in his—how easy it would be to overpower you with his big, strong body.

but how easy would it be, if you actually put up a fight?

you never really have—you love it when he manhandles you; when holds you down, uses his size against you, so you’ve never really resisted it. the only taste he’s ever had of a true fight are those little play fights you have from time to time; stupid, half-heated fighting for stupid reasons. but even that was enough of a taste to drive him absolutely wild. he needs more. he needs to win you.

“sweetheart,” he calls for you as he walks into your apartment after work. you come running immediately as you always do, pulling him into a hug and he laughs. “hi, honey. you—”

you pull away suddenly, just enough to peer up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, and all else is forgotten. you look so small like this. he can’t wait any longer. he won’t.

“fuck,” he curses. you raise an eyebrow, head tilting. “baby. tiny girl.”

“yeah?” fuck, your voice is so soft. so weak.

“sweetheart. i wanna try something new with you.”

“o…okay.” you sound confused; a little nervous—good. you should be. “what is it, woo?”

“i want you to fight me off.”

the silence is thick and painful and never ending as he awaits your response; you blink once, twice, three times as you process what he’s said to you. “fight you off?” you repeat. “like, in sex?”

you don’t sound disgusted, at least—just unsure exactly what he’s asking you. he hums, nodding his head. "i want to overpower you, baby," he says. "i wanna earn that pussy—fight for it, you know? wanna see you struggle."

fuck. you do know, now that you think about it. "yeah," you say. "i think i wanna try it."

"yeah?" he grins, demeanour shifting; it amazes you sometimes, how quickly he can let the nerves fall away and fully envelop himself in what he's doing. "you wanna fight me off, baby?"

“yeah.” you swallow, lightheaded already. “i wanna.”

“good girl.”

you’re half expecting him to pounce on you straight away, but instead he presses a kiss to your forehead and walks off. you decide not to question him; knowing your boyfriend, he’s already got this planned out to the letter, and by the sounds of it, waiting and wandering when he’s going to strike is half the point.

but if he thinks taking you by surprise will make you easy to subdue, he’s dead fucking wrong.

the moment his hand closes over your mouth some days later, you’re ready; adrenaline kicks in instantly and you shove back against him; your hands fly up to claw at his forearm where he’s wrapped it around your neck, pressing against your throat with just enough pressure to make you panic. “come on, easy, easy baby.” his voice is soft, soothing and it fools no one. “don’t struggle, you know i don’t like it when you struggle.”

a lie, of course—his dick is rock hard and pressed against your ass, twitching each time you thrash and struggle against him. he loves his—even loves it when you bite down on his palm hard enough to draw blood.

“fuck,” he curses; he pulls his hand away from your mouth but the arm against your throat is more than enough to keep you still as he yanks your head back to meet his eyes.

the face that stares back at you is unlike you’ve ever seen it; none of the love and tenderness you can usually find even in the most intense of scenes—rather pure, uncompromising darkness. ice.

“you bitch,” he spits. “fuck, i was gonna be nice to you, y’know, was even gonna let you cum a few times but you obviously can’t behave.”

“fuck you,” you grunt. when his grip loosens momentarily you try to make a run for it but he just laughs, pulling you back into him as easily as if you were a tiny puppy who’d wriggled out of its leash.

“i don’t think so, doll,” he says. “you don’t run from me. now be good and i won’t have to hurt you too much, yeah?”

the answer is no, obviously, just as he wanted it to be—it doesn’t stop him from holding you by the hair and belting your ass raw while you cry and squirm on his cock, though.

doesn’t stop you from loving every second of it, either.

—

#seventeen smut #svt smut #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #jeonghan smut #wonwoo smut #the8 smut #minghao smut #xu minghao smut #mulloey writes

238 notes · View notes

always-been-aubrey · 2 days ago

Text

All through middle and high school, when I knew in my heart and soul that I was really and truly a girl despite all appearances and expectations, the only way I could express it to my friends and family in the mid-1970's of rural north-central Georgia was dressing as the tomboy I felt I could "get away with" - cut-off jeans and baggy shirts like this in the warm months at least...

Two things helped - boys' shorts - basketball shorts, gym shorts, even cut-offs - were so much shorter than they are today... and, as silly as this may sound, I was relatively, shall I say, less hairy (and, "physiologically smaller"[?]) than most of my buddies...

Of course, Dad, being a retired Naval Aviator, insisted on the "low-maintenance-haircut" for both my brother and me, and while my brother protested because he wasn't allowed to be "cool," my protests walked right up to the edge of telling him I was gonna be the only girl in class with a "butch" haircut and would be ridiculed for it... but of course I couldn't do THAT (back then...), especially when he countered every squawk about going to the barber shop with "No son of mine is gonna have long hair like his sister..."

If he'd only known - or I could've told him...

#growing up #transgirl #mtf girl #just one of the girls #transsexual #tomboy #tomboy me #trans tomboy #my story #becoming who i've always been

211 notes · View notes

samsblades · 13 hours ago

Text

✶ spring, honey, forest, etc. — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, sappy!reader, fluff, just tooth rotting fluff and a happy sam, unedited, 1K words. for liane's 500 followers event ! inspired by this moodboard <333 @chevroletdean congrats !!

summary : you can't help but compare sam to sweet and beautiful things like spring, honey, and forests.

"sam?" his name leaves your lips like a spring breeze, soft and warm and most definitely in love.

"yeah, honey?"

sweet like honey, thick like honey, golden like honey. his lips don't really taste like honey, but sometimes you think that they do. there's honey in his eyes too, when the sun hits them right. and from this close, you can see all the details. that honey gold, sunflower yellow, woody hazel, and greens that can’t decide whether they're mossy or blue-ish like the sea. right now, as your own eyes soak his up in a morning so blissful that it's almost ridiculous, you decide for them. mossy green it is.

you honestly just said his name because you like the way it feels when it rolls over your tongue and slips out between barely parted lips. but now you actually have something to say to him, voice hushed to match the quiet of the early morning.

"your eyes are like springtime," you tell him, lips curled up into a smile that makes him grin back without even noticing. then you hum and shake your head, cotton pillow case rubbing against your cheek, "mm… wait, no. no, they're like a forest. like trees and moss and pretty rocks."

his eyebrows raise but his smile stays bright. "pretty rocks?" he parrots, trying to tease but only sounding like he could properly swoon.

"yeah. or crystals, i guess. green crystals. sunny yellow ones too," you amend. then you ramble on. "but i like when your eyes look more brown, too. or blue. or anything at all, cuz they're yours and that means i'll always love them." he looks like he has no idea at all what to say to that. your voice quiets, "am i being too sappy?"

"no," he murmurs, his response immediate and sure. "no, i just… just have never had anyone that talks to me the way you do. but i love you. love the way you talk, too."

"good," you settle easily, wondering if your eyes resemble honey in any way just for how sweetly they look at him.

"i love your eyes too," he says, almost surprising you when you think silence is falling back over you like another silky sheet atop the first.

"yeah?" you ask, voice whispery and alight with a sweet hope that's a little silly because there's no need for it. of course he loves your eyes. he loves your all.

"of course," he affirms, "they're so pretty. and… and i feel better when i see them. safer."

and then it feels like nothing bad could ever happen, or at least like nothing in the world would ever dare interrupt something so tender. safer. if something as simple as the sight of your eyes makes him feel safer, you're sure that you've achieved the best thing in life that you ever could. you've done your job, made it to where you want to be, just knowing that. it's like he's telling you that no one could claim that you don't love him without being a complete liar.

it's like he's saying 'i know you love me. i don't doubt it, not anymore. your eyes are my safe place. your love is my safe place.' and that's all you could ever ask for.

"that makes me really happy," you tell him.

"you make me really happy," he says, no need to search for the right words to say. he knows that one without having to think for a moment. and you're blessed to know it too. there's evidence in the curve of his lips and glimpse of his teeth and pretty wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. even in those swirling irises, brighter with the gift of joy that you've given him. you see yourself in them, reflected in those deep pupils and shining just as bright.

47 notes · View notes

noiranamnesis · 3 days ago

Text

Marinette perked up when he spoke of a charity ball, eyes lighting with interest. “If you host, does that mean you’ll finally dress up?” The words slipped before she could think better of them, light and teasing, yes, but utterly serious. He wore fine suits and brooded, sure, but she wanted to see something else. Something traditional. Opulent. Preferably layered, embroidered, and stiff enough for him to complain...and she would savor every delicious grievance.

When he repeated the bit about the shipping boat, she merely nodded, unsure whether he found it amusing or vaguely horrifying to think someone had breached his borders too easily. Yet the moment he offered help, she shook her head. “Non. I would never ask for that,” she said, firm but not unkind. “You agreed to let me hide here. That’s more than enough.” Besides, who would believe her anyway? Innocent people don't run, wasn’t that the saying? “And yes,” she added with a theatrical sigh, “God help us all if the King doesn’t get his strawberry fix. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so secure in a job- and it’s all thanks to the most ridiculous berry.” She laughed then, soft and self-aware, still baffled by the odd shape her life had taken, though she had no complaints to spare.

It struck her as strange at times, how relaxed he could be about her past, especially given his own. But she didn’t question it. Not aloud, anyway. “Oh, I doubt that,” she murmured when he claimed to be prepared for the unexpected. A sly grin graced her features. “You didn't even realize I used to dance.”

In the end, she wasn’t particularly surprised when he leaned across the table. There was a brief flash of mischief, a split-second impulse to tease him- to say something clever, derail him even- but then his face was closer, and the impulse vanished as if fog in sun. Why is he moving so slowly? She was seconds from asking what the hell he was doing- until his lips brushed hers. The first kiss was feather-light, polite, chaste even.

Well, she might’ve said, that was easy.

Then he kissed her again. This time, there was nothing polite about it. No hesitation. No preamble. He deepened it with the kind of slow, devastating confidence that left no room for second guessing, and Marinette, caught mid-thought, barely found her footing. Her eyes fluttered shut. Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled instinctively around his wrist, like an anchor. Wine-blurred thoughts disappeared. Her world narrowed to his lips, his warmth and the sharp, dizzy realization that he knew exactly what he was doing.

When they finally parted, her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, pulse thrumming in her throat as she blinked up at him. “Well,” she managed, barely steady, “that was still subpar.” He didn’t get a chance to respond.

In one swift, unhesitating motion, she leaned in, fingers threading into his hair as she drew him back with sharp, effortless command. There was no pretense of restraint in her kiss. Only heat, and the undeniable edge of intent. Her body shifted closer, closing the space between them with ease. Her knee brushed his beneath the table, her body angling into his as her hand slid to the nape of his neck, thumb grazing the line of his jaw before curling with quiet possession. There was nothing tentative in the way she kissed him, no softness to hide behind.

And when she finally pulled back- slowly, deliberately- her breath came quick and shallow. She didn’t retreat far. Just enough to meet his eyes, her thumb ghosting along his cheek. “That,” she murmured, voice low and smooth, “is how you’re supposed to seduce someone.”

A beat passed. And then, just faintly, her confidence wavered. The heat in her cheeks flared and she became acutely aware of everything: their closeness, his stare, the wild skip of her pulse…and the wine. Oh hell. The wine. “Well,” she said, a little too light, a little too quick, as she moved to rise. Her chair nudged the table with an awkward scrape, the sound too loud in the quiet. “You...completed your dare.” She pushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear with unnecessary focus. “I should probably mention,” she murmured, almost to herself, “I don’t like wine...and I may not have the best tolerance.” Anything to distract. To breathe. To cool the heat blooming beneath her skin.

He couldn't help but smirk as her stuttered response and as tempted as he was to ask how exactly she had planned to finish that sentence, he didn't push her. Subpar, indeed.

He was quickly distracted by her unexpected agreement to the sailing trip. Pleasantly surprised, he made a mental note to clear a day in his schedule: he needed little encouragement to disappear to the beach for a day. "Excellent," he replied, enthusiastically. "I'll find a day." The likelihood of him being able to visit his childhood friend in her country was slim - international trips were meticulously planned and of political importance - but he could invite her to Essetir. "Mm, perhaps I ought to host a charity ball. I haven't hosted for years, and then Mithian's father will feel obliged to allow her to attend," he mused, more to himself than to Marinette.

He listened carefully as she explained how she'd made it to him. "A shipping boat," he repeated, with faint amusement. "Well, I'm glad you're here. If you ever wanted to go back, I could help you clear your name. I have some rather good lawyers at my disposal," he suggested, sincerely, before his lips quipped up once more. "Although I'd rather you didn't, because how else would I get my fix of strawberry crepes?"

His smile grew at the sound of her laughter, and he paid particular attention to her words: I don't kiss people first. Very different to not wanting to kiss him, he noted. Although his lips dipped, just slightly, as she used his words back at her. "You know, I think I'll take my chances. I'm more prepared for the...unexpected with you now," he playfully declared, not wanting his past trauma to ruin his chances.

When he revealed the card, a huff of laughter escaped him at her show of evident delight, and he lent back against his chair as he awaited his fate. Oh. Oh. He almost didn't wait to hear the other options, already imagining the feeling of his lips on hers, but he controlled himself - eyes twinkling at the talk of fantasies, but quite set on his decision. Without speaking, he reached across the table once more, one hand reaching upwards to cup her face. Agonisingly slowly, giving her ample opportunity to change her mind, he closed the distance between them. His lips just barely brushed against hers, a soft, gentle caress, before he kissed her properly, deeply, for long enough to leave them both gasping for air.

#m: marinette beauséjour #p: cenred wessex #b: kingcenred #marinette x cenred: 002 #[she is a mess and i apologise on her behalf XD]

48 notes · View notes

galindaarduennaa · 49 minutes ago

Text

Galinda nervously made her way out of the cafeteria with Fiyero. He had taken her hand and seemed to be thinking about something as they walked. They walked for a couple of minutes before he turned and looked at her. “Galinda, I think we need to spend more time together. I hardly ever see you on our own. Dinner yesterday was the first time we had been alone together in some time. Will you at least go into town with me one day this weekend? Or could we have dinner together regularly? By ourselves,” he stressed, not leaving any room for her to suggest bringing Elphie.

She felt herself start to panic. This wasn’t a good sign; clearly he wasn’t happy with the relationship. “Elphie and I have plans most days. Saturday we’re going to study, and on Sunday I’m going to help her with her hair. I’ve heard it’s quite an extensive process, so I can’t just leave her alone. We like to do our homework together and have dinner together and talk about the day. Why can’t we all spend time together?” As the last words left her mouth, she could hear how ridiculous they sounded. What did she think, they could get married and just bring Elphie with them everywhere? Actually, that’s exactly what she did think, but she knew that would not make the situation any better.

Fiyero looked at her, his face changing from stunned to angry. “Galinda, I don’t understand. Why don’t you want to spend time together? You seem to want to spend all of your time with your roommate. You even hold hands with her, I saw it at the cafeteria.” At that statement, he let go of her hand, looking hurt. “Are you dating Elphie? Because that’s the only explanation I can think of that would explain all of this.”

“What? No, of course not dearest! I’m dating you! Elphie and I are just friends.” Fiyero was a prince, exactly who Galinda was expected to marry. Not only that, she and Elphie were both girls. How could they make that work?

Fiyero began walking again, and Galinda realized they were heading back to her dormitory. She struggled to keep up with his speed, and wondering if he was walking this quickly on purpose. After a couple more minutes, they reached the dormitory. He stopped and turned to look at her. “Galinda. I don’t know what is going on with you and your roommate. But I do know that something seems off between you and I. I think we need to take a couple of days to think about things. I want you to really think if you want to be in a relationship with me, because I want to spend time with any girlfriend I have. And any girlfriend I have should want to spend time with me too. I’m going to give you a few days, and then hopefully we can talk about what we want to do moving forward.” He didn’t move to hug her or kiss her goodnight, he just looked down at her with a sad look on his face. “Goodnight, Galinda,” he said, before turning and walking away.

Galinda felt relief mixed with sadness and panic. What was happening? Who felt relief when a prince reacted this way to them? Quickly, she turned and began running up the stairs and to the dorm room. She burst into the door and quickly closed it behind her, seeing Elphie sitting and reading. At the site of her friend, she felt so many conflicting emotions that she promptly burst into tears.

Third Wheel

Galinda was exhausted as she walked out of her math class. She was grateful that Elphie had encouraged her to finish her homework the night before, otherwise she doubted she would have been able to finish it on time for class. She woken up a few times the night before worrying about her magic training and all of the feelings she had been having recently. She still didn’t have any more clarity on her situation or what she should do about everything. She was just grateful her classes were done for the day, and she planned to meet Elphie for dinner. She had stayed a couple of minutes extra at the end of class to ask her professor a question, and she hoped that Elphie wouldn’t think she wasn’t coming to meet her. She was making her way across the courtyard when she heard a voice call her name. How had he found her again?

Galinda turned and smiled at Fiyero. “Dearest, hello! I didn’t expect to see you!” This was putting her behind in meeting Elphie. She didn’t feel she could keep walking, but she also didn’t want to be any later to meet her friend.

“I knew your math class ended around now. I’d like us to have dinner again. We need to spend more time together.” He reached down and took one of her hands, smiling at her.

“Oh, but I had plans to meet Elphie for dinner tonight,” she said, unsure of what to do. How did he know her class schedule this well?

“Galinda, I would really like to have dinner with you. Don’t you want to have dinner with me?” She felt trapped as he looked at her. How could she tell him no? He was her boyfriend, of course he wanted to have dinner with her. She nodded, feeling defeated, and the two began walking toward the cafeteria. As they got closer to the cafeteria, she saw a familiar flash of black and green walking by.

“Elphie!” she called, tugging on Fiyero’s hand. “Elphie! I still want to have dinner! Please join us!” She could feel Fiyero stiffen next to her and realized he was likely disappointed, but all she wanted was to spend more time with her friend.

#third wheel

21 notes · View notes

feelyourno1z · 6 months ago

Note

you'll forever be a cringey immature straight girl no matter if you call yourself a he or a xim or a identify as a table leg, no matter how many bone-eroding cross-sex hormones you take or whether you amputate or boobs or not. biologicallly you will always be a female heterosexual since that's what you were born as. neuroscience proves that heteros aka opposite-sex attracted people have distinct brain phenotypes from gay people, regardless of if they identify as trans or not. heterosexual aka male-attracted 'transmen' have the same brain chemistry as any normie het woman, proving both that sexuality is only determined by sex and that transness isn't innate the way homosexuality is. you can larp as whatever, call neuroscience and basic knowledge on sexuality 'stinky doo doo opinions' like a petulant child who just realized santa isn't real. the only thing you're doing is embarrassing yourselves in front of anyone with the slightest cerebral functionality because you're mad we're calling out your gay-fetishizing homophobic anti-scientific bs for what it is unlike the tras who pretend to see you as 'gay' 'men' because they feel sorry for your mentally ill ass and your internalized misogyny. sure you het women will never be in an equal relationship with a male because straight men see you as throwaway sex toys and free domestic servants but this isn't an excuse for you to fetishize gay men and pretend to be them, certainly not an excuse to expect them to go along with the charade and put up with you het weirdos preying on them. het males aren't dumb when it comes to manipulating women for easy p*ssy which is why they're already on grindr with your het ass, pretending to be QWeEr and non-binary to get that mentally ill gullible cooch. no actual gay male will look at you and have any other emotion aside from anger and pitiful laughter. even if you 'pass' completely, they'll be disgusted after learning you have female genitalia and lose any attraction they may have had because het sex is abnormal and undesirable to gay people, not falling for and not wanting to fuck the opposite sex is the literal essence of our sexuality which you are diametrically opposed to. you'll just rub your nub away to yaoi like any other fujo who is either an ugly woman or understandably disillusioned with men but the only outcome is that you'll be a bitter p0rn sick lonely coomer just like those crusty basement-dwelling straight men who can't get laid. the worst part is that nearly any het woman like you can get laid, that's no achievement, het men will even pretend to be bi or gay to use you as a fleshlight but no gay male will ever want your musty homophobic vag, they want none at all and deep down you know it. that you'll never be loved and wanted by a gay man, that you'll never be seen as gay or male by anyone. you'll never know the ultimate compatibility and sublime equality that only exists in same-sex love. and now that you've ruined your straight woman privilege, only the most abusive and weird straight men will go after you, whose only purpose is to take advantage of you. what a sad existence, foaming at the mouth at gay people for standing up for ourselves when you fake progressive breeders try to brainwash your fellow homophobes into your heteronormative bioessentialist homophobia, insisting gay people could be bisexually attracted as long as you wear 'boy clothes' and cut your hair off. congrats on alienating the very people you pretend to be, most of us were 'trans allies' just a few years ago before you went full crackhead and started pretending sexuality is based on a made-up gender not biological sex. enjoy withering away in your early menopause knowing no gay person will ever love or desire you, knowing you'll never be us and should be grateful since you couldn’t stand a day of real oppression. choke on as much d*ck as you'd like, it only proves what a wanton female hetero you are and that straight males would stick their d*ck in anyone female

Bro, do you need a hug?

#none of this is even true about me lol #I am not bitchless #so many of the things they say contradict themselves #most likely a copy paste hate thing but like #lol #you sound ridiculous #I haven’t even said anything that would warrant this let alone interact with it but it’s funny they think that they sound superior

2 notes · View notes

stateofcharles · 2 years ago

Text

disgusting. fucking disgusting.

source

#i don’t even know what to say rn i just want to slap him in the face #tell me HOW can he dare to say this after a kid just passed away not even 1 month ago #i swear i hate him i hate him sm #also he sounds totally ignorant which is ridiculous since he’s a world champion (apparently) and the most successful driver of the moment #belgian gp 2023 #anti max verstappen #formula 1

27 notes · View notes

poppyseed799 · 10 months ago

Text

I think one of the weirdest signs that I was trans was that I was fine with being called a woman but NOT a cis woman. I felt awful cuz I was like “do I have a problem with people calling me cis even tho I am???” cuz I am NOT someone who minds being called accurate descriptors such as cis. I felt like I just wanted to be special or something even tho that wasn’t it and felt so bad. Something just felt really wrong about being called a CIS woman. Definitely one of the more thought provoking signs I was trans lol

#was it cuz ‘cis’ implied I had accepted it? idk cuz I WAS fine with being a woman (as far as I knew)#just some weird subconscious thing I guess. I remember admitting it to my sister at the time lol #I don’t think there are rlly many other interesting signs for me tbh. except that I only corrected ppl online when they called me he if it #either went on so long that I felt bad for them OR we were arguing and I needed something new for them to be wrong about lmao #but similar to the actual post there is ONE thing I still find interesting. which is I watched a gacha cringe video (some were ridiculous #but I often defended them) and there were some where it said ‘I wish I was a boy so I could be gay’ and everyone’s like being disgusted by #this presumably little girl acting like she’s the creepiest fujoshi ever but LITERALLY I’ve had similar thoughts. anything that starts with #‘I wish I was a boy’ obviously has trans implications even if you don’t like what comes after it lol. but like honestly. I would imagine #myself in relationships with guys (mostly fictional characters as u do) and I just hated the idea that it was straight #like same situation as the post. I felt awful cuz I would be FINE with being straight (which I knew I wasn’t anyways) so why did I need to #be special or whatever? it’s cuz just like the post that WASNT the problem. it just felt wrong to me that I wasn’t a boy. so I BASICALLY #wanted to be a boy so I could be in a mlm relationship just like those gachas. it’s just a roundabout way of realizing ur trans.#to be clear I very much had to imagine myself as a guy (typically another fictional character DUH) in order to enjoy it at all #I just realized this sounds sexual. most of it wasn’t actually but the rest is my business LMAOO

2 notes · View notes

nerdie-faerie · 2 years ago

Text

Having a big family is too expensive. Where am I supposed to find the money for my brother's 20th, my cousin's 21st and graduation, my twin cousins turning 23, my other cousin turning 26 and having a baby all this month!! 😭

#Demon Spawn #+Extra #theres too much going on! and my mum doesnt tell me everything at once so i think i only have one purchase to worry about #and then she hits me with another one!! did you remember this? did you remember that? no i was still dealing with the last one #im sorry but siblings are prioritised then i gotta sort out my own sht if i can then afford all these other peoples things #when i dont even speak to them! then sure maybe ill get around to it but theyve all got more extravagant preferences which i cant afford 😅#most of them still live at home and dont pay rent let alone tuition i cant afford their expectations and having 4 cousin birthdays #in a month is ridiculous have you seen the price of postage? and you wanna add in graduations and a baby into it???#i probably sound like im btching about nothing to people who have a good relationship with their cousins but i never see them and even #when i do we dont talk its super awkward and we have nothing in common yet i gotta go spend money i dont have all at once on them #and i cant even say sht cus my mum arranged a 21st for me that i didnt want so they did end up getting me stuff #god i sound like such btch i just dont know these people and its stressful trying to get presents as is but so many occasions at once when #i have no clue is stressing me out right now its not that i dont want to celebrate its the sudden expenditure and the fact its not spread #out and that theres so many cus i already got 8 siblings and my mum is one of 5 and my cousins are getting older so theyre going through #milestones that require gifts too at the same time as their birthday

8 notes · View notes

sliqtril · 1 year ago

Text

WHY DOES CHIP HAVE A BIRD WITH MY NAME

#skip liveblogs #I USE THE NAME CHIP TOO which is even worse #MOST OF MY FRIENDS STILL CALL ME IT #i am widely known as chip.#i cant even say i love chip without sounding like a narc #now his bird too #but this is just straight up ridiculous #dude #guy named chip with a bird named skipper this is straight up targeted

3 notes · View notes

supahstarrr · 3 months ago

Text

today has been the first day in like days i havent gone to sleep in the afternoon then continuously force myself to sleep throughout the night

#okay well its technically *tomorrow* today since its 12 am but when i wrote this post it was 11 50 pm. anyways #i hope that today is the day i break this cycle that has been going on for like a week and a few days #i cant even tell if ive been even more depressed/having a depressive episode anymore #ive been slacking when it comes to taking care of my body and keeping my room not a mess #but then again its already hard to do those things to begin with but its even more noticable since i keep ... just sleeping #bc “i dont have much to do/i dont know how to spend my time”#which well i guess thats kind of true since my social life isnt that good. i have no friends to talk too. but like also i need to start #doing my essays....... keeping up with my homework has just recently been harder bc most of it has been recently assigned writing stuff #i guess me having a depressive episode could be possible. especially since ive been more active on reddit now #okay that sounds ridiculous for me to say but i swear theres context. except not really bc i cant explain this #and i rlly hate that website and have been off that place for years but i always come back for a few months when i get #even more insecure about the lack of people i talk too...lol #tags are getting long.... i should have my own journal by technically tumblr is kind of like my journal #but nobody wants to hear this and i know that but i dont even know why i continue to say shit like this lol #and writing in an actual journal is . hard. to commit too for whatever reason #im not even sure if i even dare try journaling because it might just make me feel even more isolated? and lonely? idk.#okay bye... goodnight everyone. ill probably still be online but im doing. Things i guess #Its okay if anyone doesnt read this though but. Thanks if did read this.#sunny.txt

0 notes

theres-whump-in-that-nebula · 3 months ago

Text

Genuinely convinced some of these extremely offensive, completely batshit microlabels are psyops from government intelligence agencies to make trans people look bad because what the actual fuck

(For the record, I support the use of microlabels in most cases, when the microlabel isn’t the societal equivalent of playing with matches on an oil rig.)

#I’m not even gonna say what I just came back from reading because it’s not worth it #And if they are legit people then there’s no real use in getting mad at them #because they’re too far up their own asses to hear you and calling such a small group out will only fan the flames #I am extremely open minded even to things that would get me several callout posts if I mentioned them #But this is something else. It’s so comedic it can’t be taken seriously… but the subject matter #is quite possibly the most serious thing there is on this earth #If it sounds too ridiculous to be true it’s probably a psyop

2 notes · View notes

tonycries · 4 months ago

Text

Sweetheart Online - G.S.

Synopsis. Isekai-ed into another world, or isekai-ed into your pants?! Gojo Satoru is in danger - in danger of losing his prized, otaku vírginíty, that is.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, otaku! Gojo, isekai, vírgínity loss (Gojo), chokíng, use of “ma’am”, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, begging, nerdy babbling, Gojo wears glasses, cúmming dry, first times, oraI (f + m), face-sítting, cúmming early, spítting, creampíes, cúmplay, p talking, cúmming in his pants, he goes féral, otaku vocab, truck-kun, anime nosebIeeds, Gojo is a LOSER, and so down bad for you, pet names, swearíng.

Word count. 8.8k

A/N. IT’S HEREEEEE-

“Har har. hilarious, Suguru-”

“You know m’not joking, Satoru.” Geto’s taking an infuriatingly long slurp! of his ramen from the other end of the line, and Gojo’s known the man long enough to realize that he’s doing it solely to irritate him. That bastard. “You’re a loser.”

Ah, he’s never wanted to throttle him more.

Because- listen, Gojo Satoru might be many things.

He might be the proud president of the campus otaku club, rumored to have never even held hands with a woman his entire life. Complete defamation, of course, Gojo has held hands with his mother as a child. Though…she might be the only one.

He might be the most annoying tenant at his cramped Tokyo apartment, every inch of it covered with enough of your pretty figurines that he’s taken to sleeping on the couch recently. But you deserved only the best!

And he might currently be the sketchiest man trudging down the streets of Shibuya at 3AM; with a brand-spanking new, life-sized body pillow of you tucked safely underneath one arm.

But that didn’t mean Gojo was a loser. Probably.

So what if he got strange looks from every unfortunate normie soul he happened to pass? It was limited edition, and he waited eight hours in line for it!

After all, a man with such a prized possession could surely and undoubtedly never be a-

“-oi- oi!” Self-proclaimed best friend, and universally-proclaimed pain in Gojo’s ass grumbles into the phone.

Snapping out of his reverie, Gojo’s registering that he’s already at that familiar flickering stoplight. Fingers curling even tighter in their tender hold around your form, he saunters down the barren crossing.

He needed to get home - and he needed to get home fast! A man needs quality time with his wife, after all.

“Don’t tell me you fainted from her ah- what was it- ‘sheer beauty and unparalleled sex appeal’ again?”

“That was one time and you know it.” He’s hissing into the speaker- honestly, Geto’s probably just cranky that he didn’t get his grubby hands on one of these before he did - Gojo’s seen the other man’s plushie collection of you no matter how much he tries to hide it. “This time, I only got weak in the knees.”

There’s a snickering drawl, “Oh yeah? What wondrous self-control, o’ maestro of virgins.”

And the title is so utterly ridiculous that Gojo finds himself stuttering into a shocked stop right in the middle of the gloomy asphalt. A laugh bubbling up in his throat before he remembers that that particularly sweet nickname was directed at him.

“You’re a virgin too!”

Scoffing, “Yeah, but I don’t act like it. You, on the other hand, are famed for having your first kiss with the common room tv the moment you first saw that video game character. People were making bets on whether you were going to die a virgin, Satoru. Hell- I bet, too!”

Dammit, when you put it like that it makes Geto sound downright respectable.

“Actually, she’s more than a video game character, Sugu—” Times like this, he’s letting his words simper out into a whine. Full and well knowing how much it’ll grate against Geto’s eardrums - hah, take that ramen ASMR! Smugly, Gojo pushes up his thickly-rimmed glasses, “She’s the revered princess of a distant land, first in line to rule over the throne with a gentle yet firm hand. Scouring the seas for the perfect consort that will-”

“Are you quoting her Wikipedia-”

“I wrote her Wikipedia.” Gojo huffs indignantly, as if anyone could ever assume anything less. “Because to me, she’s- she’s…”

And, truly, nothing he recited with MLA citations could ever describe you.

Because if there’s one thing that Geto was right about, it’s the fact that Gojo’s been completely and utterly head-over-heels for you ever since he first glimpsed an ad for Sweetheart Online - the hottest, filthiest romance game to hit the industry in the last few years. Maybe ever.

With one love interest - as if he needed any other - you, and your hand in marriage that Gojo had fought rival after unworthy rival to win 143 times already.

He finds himself wracking his brain for any word in the existing lexicon to describe the perfection that is you. Though, it seems that he doesn’t have to think too hard at all.

Because before he can even imagine letting the first few syllables formulate on his tongue, there’s a deafening-

HONK!

Gojo turns, only to see the glaringly white headlights of a truck hurtling towards him at full-speed.

And the first thing he thinks is oh, it kind of looks like the spotlight that dazzles on you 1 minute and 24 seconds into the game’s Coronation Event. The second thing he thinks is…fuck.

“-highness—looks rabid!”

“—that’s rude, but…”

“-oh dear, put your sword down, Itadori.”

Gojo takes a few bleary seconds to pat himself mentally on the back for deducing that he’s died and made his way to heaven. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what Yaga says - he really is a genius sometimes.

What else could the delicate paintings of cupids and clouds on the staggeringly tall ceiling abovehead mean? He didn’t think that the heavens above had a fancy for Baroque - but who was he to judge?

Certainly not when it seemed like he was sprawled out on a painfully decadent bed. Sifting among layers and layers of delicate silk that almost swallowed him whole - oh, it was fit enough for his figurine collection of you.

A sharp crick shoots along Gojo’s neck when he turns his eyes towards what seemed like a towering window, wincing at the large glowing ball of light washing warmly over him. If he squinted his eyes it almost looked like…the sun?

Surely, he wasn’t a ghost then.

It hadn’t even been daybreak once that semi-truck had run him over, and even if he was to haunt anyone then it would be to bug Geto into plastering his collection of your posters all over his gravestone.

And the final piece of celestial evidence being a soft, soothing tone ringing in his ears and already becoming his favorite new song. Coming from the mouth of an angel peering down at him who looked - lo and behold - like your very spitting image.

“Oh…” It comes out in a hoarse, scratchy gasp. All the air knocking out of his poor lungs once you inch in mere centimeters closer to his glassy view. He can’t help but reach up a trembly hand, “You’re even more beautiful in 3D.”

SMACK!

Gojo flinches when his hand gets knocked away unceremoniously by someone else’s- there were other people here? “You dare attempt to touch the princess? After revealing yourself in her chambers? I should call the guards right now-”

Now, he didn’t know much about the afterlife, but he was sure that demons weren’t allowed in heaven.

“It’s quite alright, Nobara.” The angel speaks up, and oh, it’s not even his name being said but Gojo already feels his heart leap a little and suddenly wishes it was. “Judging by the state of his clothes it seems he’s not from these parts. Maybe he’s lost?”

Gentle hands are suddenly bestowed upon his to softly pull him up, and before he can open his mouth to undoubtedly blurt out something stupid, there’s a ringing PING!

Jumping just about a foot off the bed, he’s scrambling to stand as a strangely robotic voice speaks from somewhere overhead, “Milestone: Touch a Girl reached. System activation successful! Congratulations, user [Satorulovesprincess]. Welcome to Sweetheart Online.”

If the group in front of him heard anything, then they didn’t show a sign.

Very much the opposite of a thoroughly panicked Gojo, flailing his head towards the source of the noise until his eyes meet a holographic screen hovering just a few inches over his head.

As if something pulled right out of one of Geto’s favorite trashy sci-fi films - fuck being in heaven, he was probably still on those Shibuya streets hallucinating and causing an incident..

Gojo treks down a hand to pinch his forearm, just a little harder than necessary when the voice booms once more-

“Quite ingenious, user [Satorulovesprincess]. However, we assure you that what you are seeing is real.” The screen displays those exact words in time. “You have initiated the execution of the system, and are now bound to Sweetheart Online.”

“System- Sweetheart Online-” Great, he’s going mad. Running his hands through tousled locks of cloudy white, “Don’t tell me…don’t tell me this is like one of those shitty isekai anime.”

Oh god it all made sense - the truck, the system, the truck. And Gojo’s watched much more than enough cliché isekai anime with the otaku club to realize.

But…a truck? Seriously? That’s embarrassingly overused.

It’s like a pit of ice forms at the bottom of his stomach. He bet that no one but him could see the glaring screen right now. A fact he was especially glad for once the following words roll out-

“Following your sudden and extremely inexperienced death, Mission: No-Longer-Virgin has already started.”

Whispering to himself, “So this is where virgins go after death. Some sort of purgatory perhaps in which the last wishes of the virgin are materialized- although that doesn’t explain the presence of- wait-”

“Good luck, user: [Satorulovesprincess]. May your virginity collapse, and your sex life prosper!”

If Gojo didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that the disjointed voice sounded amused.

But wait- no, it wanted Gojo to lose his virginity? His long-held, precious, maiden virginity? After twenty-something years, how crude that this ah- mission marrs his delicate body. Did the system think that he was some sort of harlot to-

“Are…are you okay, strange sir?”

Okay, maybe losing his virginity wasn’t all that bad.

Turning back around slowly, “I uh…”

And this wasn’t quite how Gojo imagined meeting you - glasses askew, hair rumpled, in the very same ratty hoodie and sweatpants he’d camped outside the anime store in - hell, he never thought he’d meet you in general.

But then you smile, and Gojo falls onto his knees. Right then and there on the polished floor.

You were exactly as he’d seen on-screen. Brows quirking upwards just a slight cheeky degree the same way it did whenever his in-game avatar said something particularly smooth. Gorgeous. The silken skirts of your ball gown looking oh-so-soft to the touch but not as soft as you-

“Your highness, on top of being a madman, he drools at the sight of you!” A younger girl shrieks - Nobara Kugisaki, your trusty attendant, he remembers. Hastily wiping his lips, “Kindly consider having his skull impaled.”

There was nothing kindly about having his skull impaled, and Gojo’s already clutching his head when you chuckle. “Your name?”

Ah, he’s forgotten how to speak. Forgotten how to breathe. “G-Gojo Satoru- my princess- your highness.”

“Apologies, I’m not sure what foreign ambassador you are, but I do welcome you kindly to our kingdom.” You’re letting your eyes roam all over his still-kneeled body, and in them glittered something…dark.

Sliding over your hand and oh! Gojo remembers this.

He’s drinking in that delicate floral scent of yours, dragging his plump mouth to meet the back of your hand in a lingering kiss. The very moment his lips touch you, Gojo feels lightheaded.

And only after pulling away does he realize exactly why-

“Ah! He’s bleeding!” The young man - your loyal knight, Itadori - yelps, and Gojo’s clapping over the warm wetness smearing over his lower face. A nosebleed? Really? Just from kissing your hand? God, Geto was right - he really is a loser. “Should I call the healers, your highness?”

“No we have him drawn and quartered for such an unseemly display-”

“Nobara, that’s quite alright.” You’re waving off, smooth marble floors resonating out sharp clacks! when you walk even closer. Close. Too close. Until you’re seated on the edge of the bed, “After all, it is my consort choosing ceremony. Isn’t that what you’re here for, Satoru?”

Gojo thinks he could faint at the way you say his name - and he almost does.

Scrambling towards you, he’s fully kneeling at your feet now. You’re so beautiful - so real - that pearly beads of tears dot his fluttering lashes. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

He swears he hears you mumble cute under your breath. Now he could really faint–

“Oh? And I intend on fulfilling the wishes of my guest.” Speaking somewhere over his shoulder, “You two are dismissed. Lock the doors.”

Kugisaki is, unsurprisingly, the one to protest. “But- but, your highness he’s-” And, honestly, Gojo can recognize the raw expression of what the fuck in her voice. He doesn’t blame her one bit. Not when you tip his head up further to face yours and his nose twitches like he’s about to start nosebleeding all over again. “...pathetic.”

Ouch. Gojo was on the verge of spoiling the ending to her character’s backstory when you’re humming. “I like them pathetic, Nobara.”

Did he mention you were an angel?

“So…” You’re luring him in, and just that heady lilt of your voice already makes his cottony grey sweatpants tight. Shit- wasn’t this the type of situation that he wrote secret fanfics about?

Barely hearing the creaky SLAM! of the double doors to your royal chamber. Clouded pants waft over your satisfied features, he’s peeking up at you over his large spectacles. Lolling closer and closer-

Mumbling, “Yes, my prin- oh!”

Gojo’s pouted strawberry-pink lips wobble cutely when the golden points of your heel dig into the fleshy mound of his thigh. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, “Y-your highness?”

“What’s this about a-” Watery eyes widening wordlessly when you’re sliding it all the way up, up, up along the shockingly curvaceous muscles to press right down on the straining inches of his fattened cock. Needy. Bulging. “-virginity loss mission-” Hard. “-Satoru?”

And Gojo doesn’t know what comes first - that sharp inhale at the realization, or him.

Fist flying up for him to sink his pretty pearly whites into when he’s biting back a whimper and cumming.

You could feel the way that Gojo’s sloppy mushroom tip was just bawling with every lazy grind up and down his sappy slit.

Milking out the thick, goopy ribbons being sprinkled from his rounded mushroom tip. Volumes upon volumes. So much of it. That warm texture clinging against the flats of your shoe and puddling out mushy dark splotches into his sweatpants.

Shit. Shit shit shit - cumming just from that. All in front of the woman of his dreams. Part of him almost wants to apologize.

But the way your mouth curls into a sleazy grin makes Gojo’s heart race, every minute action only keeping his achy length even harder.

He so can’t help himself from grabbing your calves to halt with a few twitchy fingers - only to be going against his own yearnings. Hips humping yours once like a fucking dog as his breath hitches, “You- you know?”

“Awww, of course I know, Toru. I can see the screen.” Fuck- he hopes you can’t feel the wet splat! of another buttery wad of cum being dolloped out generously from his depraved divot. Leaning in, “S’this the first time anyone else has ever made you cum?”

He knew you were teasing - he knew it. But that doesn’t stop Gojo from panting out a strained, “Yes.”

“Hmmm, well-” You’re tapping your chin in thought, despite already having made your decision. But it was just so fun to see this beautiful man shivering and pleading on his knees. “I don’t know where you transmigrated from but…I still am a benevolent ruler, after all.”

He gulps. Cupping one flushed side of his face, Gojo’s practically a steaming hot mess of putty in your hands. “And I can take care of that little virginity business for you.”

Croaking out, “P-please.”

“Hmmm, not good ‘nough.” You’re rovering down even further to press a slight smooch of pressure against his fatly filled-up balls. Thighs squeezing at just how big they were - breeder balls. “Is that how you speak to your princess?”

“No- no no no-” Gojo’s shaking his head so hard that it makes him a little dizzy, or maybe that was the way that you were fisting your determined digits into his faded hoodie. “Please…ma’am.”

“Much better.”

Before he can even blink, he’s being dragged upwards according to your every want and whim. Thrown onto the bouncy king-sized mattress with such strength- of course, he shouldn’t even be surprised. You are the future queen for a reason, after all.

In fact, he’s never skipped a single cut scene that showed you training your battle skills-

“Now now, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?” Your voice drifts its way into his melty mind, words so sugary sweet that he could almost taste them. “At least gimme a lil’ kiss now-”

And it’s more than anything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

Muffling back a muted yes, Gojo’s surging upwards to clash his lips into yours. And oh shit, just-now realizing that he’s lost his first ever kiss.

Then his second. His third. His fourth.

It’s messy. It’s hot.

Tugging you even closer with a forearm around your waist. Gojo’s sloppy tongue is licking its way past your ravenous entrance, fucked-out bubbles of spittle pop up at the edges of his pursed lips when you’re breaking away-

“N-nooo-” He’s letting off a shuddering whine, chasing after you with a sluttily half-parted maw. “Gimme- wanna ‘nother kiss, princess.”

So greedy. The fat curve of your thumb positions itself on Gojo’s prettily dimpled chin, prying open his dewy lips even further. “Open that mouth f’me, Toru?”

He’s doing exactly what you’re saying before he even realizes it. The glistening muscle of his tongue splayed-out perfectly on display for you - for you to spit out a heavy mass of saliva right onto his pinkish tastebuds.

Gojo moans at the contact - and you can feel it before he does. The subtle jolt of his weepy cockhead, before your languidly gyrating kneecap is dampened with another wiry slather of cum. Warm and wet.

“Cumming again?” You coo, eyes darting between the ever-growing pool of a frosted mess between his long legs, and his face. Gojo looked so pretty like this - glasses sliding down his button nose, eyes shuttering with each heaving pant - gasp. Face flushed and slicked with a slight shimmer of sweat, stray locks of white curtain and stick to his reddened forehead. He looked so pretty. “Just from that?”

He’s squirming his depraved hips to smudge a faint glaze of seed down your mounds of flesh, one palm dancing upwards to stop himself from having a nosebleed all over again. “C-can’t help it…The average time of ejaculation for a man is five to seven minutes based on psychological factors and age. And as a healthy young man just because I-”

You’re shutting him up with a kiss, and Gojo almost wonders why more people don’t do this time - that is, until he remembers they’re not you.

“Sounds pretty serious.” You’re nodding, a mask of teasing graveness taking over your face. Swiftly shuffling down the seemingly endless expanse of the bed. Doughy fingerpads delicately hooking onto the hem of his drenched pants, “Better get a taste before you run out, then.”

Gojo lets out such a breathy pant at the implication, “N-no it won’t, considering the volume of the seminal vesicle and- ah!”

Whatever drunken rambling of his is cut very, very short as soon as you tug down those useless sweatpants and let Gojo’s red, painfully angry cock smack! against his abdomen with a wet smear.

He was so…big.

Such girthy, solid inches upon inches that twitched needily right before your very eyes. A rummaging, left-leaning curve being nestled above two pretty pink balls.

Your mouth waters once you’re curling your fingers dexterously around his plump circumference, making his cerise cockhead waterfall out in another lazy sheen of pre. It’s honestly a bit of a strain to even get your fingertips meeting each other properly with his incredible size, and that just makes you want him more.

Gojo’s knitting his ivory brows nervously, “S-s’it okay?”

It’s more than okay.

And you’re about to show him that.

Cerulean irises crossing together until they were all heart-eyed when a saturated coating of your saliva tops his bloated tip like a layer of icing. Before he feels himself fall in fucking love just at the gummy peck of your mouth onto the rotund ends of his length.

“W-woahhh—” He’s breathing out, eyes locked lecherously right with yours when the steaming hot cavern of your mouth sinks in more and more and more- “This- what- fuuuck-”

And then you’re huffing out a slight chuckle through your nose, hitting his drenched base and making him keen. Slender hips of his lurch the perfect angle off the luxurious bed to bump his mountainous head against the very back of your throat.

Gasping - begging.

“You’re seriously gonna…take me?” Prattling through clenched teeth as you grace him with a few more flooding masses of spit. It makes him feel so used. Feel so good. “Like you- you’re gonna put me in your mouth?”

“No.” You’re snickering at the utterly crestfallen look on his face, full mouth downturned, puffed-up tip tinting an even more blasphemous red as if to tempt you. Your fingers tangle with his to claw at the crown of your head, “You’re gonna put yourself in my mouth.”

Oh.

“Shit-” Gojo whispers - more to himself than anything. “You can do this- can- can do this- just suck on m’cock-” Rubbing out a translucent lipstain all over your ajar maw before plugging his proud girth inside. “Please- wanna know what it feels…”

Gojo can’t remember what he was saying. What he was thinking.

Because just a few vulgar sucks of your tenderized mouth around his inflated cock and he’s drunk. Fuck dying by a truck, he was about to die just by this.

Head lolling all the way back against the poofy pillows, white-hot bliss flashing behind his eyes and- when had he even closed them?

“Wh-why does it feel so–” he’s clenching his jaw, dredging out every single ounce of will in his being to peer at the heavenly - hah- sight below. “-so- good- c-can it feel so good- hngh- please-”

Gojo’s drawing up the hem of his hoodie to cover that brightly blossoming blush. So adorable. He even tasted sweet, like the best of salted caramel that made you infinitely want more.

Your salacious tongue is repeatedly wetting down his lightning bolted veins. Up and down up and down up and down to draw little hearts on those bumpy lines.

His sobbing cockhead mushing back into the velveteen walls of your mouth, and Gojo could cum just from the voluptuous curve being outlined into your cheek. He’s finding it almost fucking impossible to grunt out over the raw squelches! emanating from where you were making out with his throbbing cock, “Must be illegal- that’s it! It f-feels so good this must be- ngh- outlawed.”

You’ve rendered him stupid. And he’s so hot and heavy in your mouth, it makes your core stir up to think that you’re the first.

Every choked-up plea only resonates off of the numerous corners of your bedroom even louder once your fingers latch onto the gluttonous curve of his fattened balls. Squeezing-

“S-so dirty- so dirty, princess…” And part of Gojo doesn’t know why he’s letting his traitorous hands wander onto the back of your scalp. Doesn’t know why he’s plunging just a few more inches past your prettily-pouted lips - you were his princess and he was…not treating you like royalty.

The Gojo in this game had always been so smooth. So suave. Taking his sweet, sweet time to hold your hand and talk to you about the politics of your kingdom.

Right now he was curving his thick thighs to flex around your shoulder and feeding you every saccharine inch you could possibly swallow up. “Can you- can you take more? Take this biiiig fuckin’ cock?”

You’re being choked in a locked hold by his powerful legs, and you’ve never been wetter. Practically puddling out a syrupy pond on the sheets underneath you.

Tugging out the thick nub of his thumb to smear those honeyed splatters of his precum at the corners of your mouth, you can only grin as you let your sentence translate into thrumming vibrations. “Mhmm— Settling into it s-so well, aren’t ya, Tooooru?”

“F-fuck!” Gojo’s blushing tip glides shyly down the tight back of your throat, rovering all along each n’ every millimeter of space inside you. It only made your head bob faster to imagine how he would feel down there- “Don’t talk- don’t talk. Please don’t talk s’gonna make me…”

But you.

Oh, Gojo Satoru has read your character profile over 2489 times by now.

He’s memorized every factoid and morsel of knowledge there is to know about you - so of course, he should’ve known. Should’ve realized that babbling away those words would only make your sultry motions increase.

“Cum f’me like a good boy.”

And he does.

You can only watch in awe when a pearlescent globule of cum gumdrops from his weepy orifice, one. Two. Three. Until Gojo was just drenching the entirety of your mouth with thickly viscous coatings of seed, until you were just drooling with a wadded mess of spittle and seed.

Salty flavor dripping down your tongue and flooding out. So much of it. Too much, Gojo was spurting out the thickest ribbons of creamy white as if he’d never cum before - and doesn’t plan to stop any time soon.

More, more, more like it was the sound of your voice making him shiver. Making him whine like a zillion volts of electricity was running down his greedy spine.

The moment you pull away, hefty oodles of cum hit Gojo’s toned abs with a wet splat! And your dear subject is wrangling out his hands towards you like he never wanted to let go.

“No- no! Please- please come back-” Crinkling tears trek their way down his dewy face, sensory pads of his fingers reaching out for you desperately, only for you to part away. “N-need your pretty mouth on me.”

You’re raising a brow, thumbing over his still-crying divot, “But don’tcha want something…else, Satoru?”

“Something- else?” He’s rasping out haltingly, head thoroughly swimming with nothing but you. Your heart glows with pride at the way he can barely form coherent sentences, “What…oh.”

But Gojo gets the idea soon enough when you’re hastily shedding away your outer robes. He fumblingly tries to help, of course, but the simple idea of helping a woman undress is too much for him - and he’s banished to simply watching you, one hand held underneath his nose in case of another…incident.

Gown and undergarments hitting the floor, your gorgeous legs come to hike up, up, up- driveling mouth falling slack the moment they’re ending up rested on either side of his intoxicated head.

“Oh.” He wheezes intelligently up at your glistening cunt.

“Nothing else ta say?” Your heady purrs only make him blush, nuzzling his feverishly burning cheek against the spattered sheen of slick at your inner thigh. He’s making such a mess on purpose. Making himself a mess.

“Well-” Gojo bats his long lashes up at you dangerously, clear planes of his glasses digging into the handsome apples of his cheeks. But he didn’t mind. Couldn’t even feel anything but the sweltering heat of your arousal. “-jus’ that- I want you to spit in my mouth, princess.”

And the very moment that sugar-coated sap, Gojo moans.

Eyes flickering shut at the taste of himself - the taste of you. A candied little tinge that he oh-so-badly needs more of - and without even a second of hesitation, he’s stuffing himself right there between your pretty legs.

It doesn’t matter the rhythm. It doesn’t matter the rhyme.

And Gojo doesn’t even know any - the very moment your puffy lips are meeting his kiss-bitten ones in a French kiss, he already knows that your cute cunt has taken him hostage.

Jaw clenching as he tries to memorize all those fanfics he guiltily read night after night, Gojo’s bumping up his cloudily condensed glasses further up his nose when he leaves one kiss. Two. “Ohhhh, your pussy tastes s-sooo good.”

And they each get messier and messier after the other.

Letting the heaping dollops of your juices flood onto his roughened tastebuds, he’s letting his long tongue peek apart your gluey pussylips. Sliding the very tip up and down and round n’ round your slicked entrance.

“The- the oh!” Gojo flinches just as your body arches even deeper once he pokes his fat muscle past your tight ring. Leaving such a slew of wet slurps with every drag, he was dirty. “-according to what I’ve read, th-the clitoris is found at the top of the vulva. It should be located where the hah- labia-”

His words cut off with what you swear sounds like a strangled whimper when you harshly fist your digits into his silken-soft strands and push.

And you don’t notice it at the time, hell, even Gojo doesn’t notice with just how ruined he was right about now.

But the sole moment you’re manhandling him to your will makes his flushed crownhead geyser out a torrential of cum.

Fountaining out waves and waves of seed that paint his hefty base with a frosted ring. Such thickened volumes for the nth time tonight. Just from the roughened way that you were pushing him to make out with your pretty pussy.

He wanted to be used.

“Used, huh?” You’re letting out a murky pant of laughter- fuck, did he say that out loud? “Wanna be u-used, Satoru- wanna keep that big mouth of yours hngh- full?”

He’s nodding. Nodding and nodding and nodding with every sloppy gyration that you bestow all down his features. Huffing and puffing through every gasping breath he manages to shudder in, he’s shooting out a good mass of saliva. “Yes- ride me. Ride me. Fucking ride my face. A-always wanted you to ride me- hngh- please.”

And how could you deny him when he’s all begging like that?

Gluey ropes of spit and slick lacquer Gojo’s chin like a smooth polish, and he’s sticking against you like he was just as clingy. Jaw grinding against your kinetically moving pussy, the pointed edge of his nose weaves from between your leaky slit and ends up pressing right onto your clit-

“O-oh!” Your head tumbles backwards with an ever-tightening grip onto his sweat-dampened locks. “Yeah- right there–”

“Here? Here?” He sounds like he couldn’t quite believe it. The ravenous edge of his thumb curling right up your soppy slit and pinning down your hooded clit. Hard. “The glans clitoris r-right here. And I found it- I found it.” Breathing out a long whistle that makes your heated skin bristle with goosebumps, “I always wondered what would h-happen if I…”

You barely even have the time to react before you’re staring at the glisten of Gojo’s sharp canines sneaking up to your sensitive nub and biting.

And he didn’t expect this.

He didn’t expect it to be better than the fanfiction-

Because your generous cunt just cascades in another jet of sappy juices, glazing Gojo’s features sexily all the way from his dimpled grin up to his glasses.

They’re dripping wet, waterlogged with treacly film of slick that forces him to gawk up at you from below with such a loving gaze. Just the way he’s peering up at you is enough to make your breaths hitch.

“Gonna- gonna write about this, y’know? H-hope you know that this changed my hah- fuckin’ life, my princess…my girl.” Gojo drawls out lazily, movements as slow as if he was slipping through molasses when he sinks the rounded tips of his cushy fingers into your slick-flooded entrance. “Gonna h-have you for breakfast- for ah- lunch…aaaand for dinner.”

With a pitchy whine, you’re tightening your hold onto his thick locks and mushing his face so close. Close enough that you could already feel the mushy pout of his lips and that lazy chuckle.

Only then do you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. Mouthing off until you’re making both his chilling frames and his regal nose clash at the target of your clit with every repeated swivel, each glissading snog of his tongue making you throb.

Everywhere. Anywhere. Everywhere and anywhere that he could reach.

“Such a dirty boy, huh?” You muse, swearing that that only makes him even sloppier. “S’that what you are? Ngh- bet you’ve never tasted a p-pussy before, huh?”

“N-nooo- haven’t. But are they all so…fucking delicious?” And he’s lapping up every sensual ounce, not letting even a tiny speckle go to waste. Because Gojo Satoru was kissing your pretty pussy like he could only dream of those long, lonely nights.

You were a fucking dream - his dream.

The full force of his desperation hitting you when Gojo’s letting his drunken head loll ever-so-slightly backwards to take a good, long admiring look at your cunt. And you wonder if he could even see with his glasses all sodden and filthy like that.

You wonder if he even realized when he’s leaving a lingering swat! of his plush fingertips right onto the bullseye of your pulsing button, and then another few at your fleshy channel.

And it was so unfair how he was pummeling your poor gummy walls with swipe after swipe of his eager fingerpads working your glutinous walls open. Probing his neatly manicured fingers perfectly into your most tender spots. “Like that?”

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re mewling at the tautly coiling build-up at your cunt. Further and further. You felt like you were about to snap. “-is- is this my first time or yours, Toru–”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” And Gojo’s palming his engulfing hands over the jiggling mounds of your ass to drag you like some ragdoll even deeper onto his sloppy maw. You’re forced to slap your hand onto the royal headboard to get at least some semblance of balance. “Jus’ want you- need you.”

Gawping up at you - he looks just as fucked-out as you feel. Blushing oh-so-innocently with his lecherous mouth slithering to steal a loud mwah! planted onto your salivating pussy. And then a final, weighty wad of spit. “Need me to be yours.”

With a final, trembling shove of Gojo’s pretty face pliantly against your hot core, you’re cumming. Riding out your peak with stuttering rotations all over his lolled-out, bumpy tastebuds.

“Fuh-fuck!” You didn’t even care if you were getting his glasses messy at this point - he’d already made enough of a mess out of you. Embarrassingly so. “S’s-so good. Hah- gotta put your mouth to work more o-often, Satoru.”

And you can’t stop the way that your jaw parts into a soft oh! every time he pinches your bulbous clit at the very tip of every single one of your peaks. Right on time. More on sheer animal instinct than anything because Gojo’s still reeling from the fact that he made you cum.

He made you cum.

Babbling away just as stupidly as he had mere moments before, your orgasm is…magical. None of these haughty princes or dukes could ever compare to this. “S-such a good ngh- boy f’me.”

That is, until you feel Gojo tenderly curl his fingers around one of your stray ones to form a fist. Nudging it against one of yours in a…fistbump?

“You have…no…fucking idea.” He’s letting out a drenching ptwah! of spittle, all the masses and rivulets of your sickeningly sweet juices sliding all the way down his tongue and pooling at the back of his throat. Like he always wanted your taste there.

And you’re still feeling the twinging tremors down your spine, flurries of stars bursting behind your hooded lids when he lets his sinfully long tongue slather your fluttering cunt with another hot kiss.

Nose crinkling at how you’re stagnating your vigorous cadence, he bats his lashes up at your shocked stare - and you already know what his sapphire gaze is begging for before he even asks.

“Toru-”

“More.” Gojo interrupts you - and he knows he’ll beat himself up for it later. Maybe he’ll even…make it up to you. But for now, the only thing replaying on his cottony mind was just how perfect you looked cumming all over his mouth - even the specially-paid NSFW scenes didn’t go into this much detail.

He was in heaven.

You feel the humid brush of his tongue between your saturated pussylips, pleading. Begging. “Wan’ more- wanna taste you more, princess- please-”

And Gojo looks so fucking heartbroken the very moment those lips part with such a wet slurp! A low whine curdling at the back of his throat, his glossy lips curve downwards into a jutted-out pout.

He’s chasing after your pussy with absolutely no shame, greedy fingertips digging into the curve of your ass while he nudges you closer and closer. Stealing tiny kittenish licks, stealing longing whiffs just to smell the scent of your pussy.

“No- no- want- please-” He’s rambling away, half-lidded eyes widening with alarm. Like you were taking away his favorite dessert right from under his nose, and Gojo was not having it.

But you knew a thing or two about ruling.

And it’s with such smug satisfaction that you get to push down a wolfish Gojo so hard he collides back onto the mattress and bounces.

Giggling - giggling, “S’this mean I get to…fuck you now?”

Oh, it’s spoken like a mantra. A true confession that he never even imagined would come out from those lips of his.

You’re nodding, “Mhm— m’thinking that good boys get to hah- fuck me.”

He’s ogling you right now when you meander between his milky legs just as you did before. Except, this time, you’re stopping right at the defined v-line of his sculptured hips. Darting thumb rubbing back and forth over the pooling streaks of cum from just before.

“Did you cum without me ngh- again, Toru?” You’re teasing, and he almost feels so pathetic the way his mouth latches onto the curve of your sheened digits and sucks. “That’s not what a good-”

“I am I am-” Gojo insists, brows furrowing. He’s so unsure what to do, so unsure what to even think other than looping his arms around your waist to tug, tug, tug you ever-closer. It’ll never be enough. “Promise I’ll be a- ngh-”

Shit.

Your fingers shackle a tight grip around his pale, prespired neck. He looks so gorgeous squirming underneath you like this - squirming for more, that is.

“Then you better promise to fuck me really good, Satoru.” Your whispers come out in a honeyed tone that wafts against his reddening ears. Maybe because of that, maybe because of the way your nails claw marks, you feel his plumpened head twitch. “Really good.”

His head lolls all the way into your grasp, he was done. Murmuring, “I’ll be a really, really good boy- ma’am.”

That did it.

And before Gojo knows it, you’re letting his syrupy mushroom tip slip in a few thick inches with ease. Geysers of his pre trickling out from between the tight stretch of your gluey hole, sinking in more and more.

Gojo’s mouth opens with a slow leak of drool with just how warm you were hugging him from the inside. Your candied walls so fucking clingy that he finds himself choking out a huff, planting two steadying hands on either side of your waist and pushing-

“Oh fuck- oh fuck.” His eyes grow adorable wide, stare perched right down where he was disappearing in and out of you in mindless, rapid ruts just to bully himself inside. “Th-this feels nothing like my P-Pocketpussy3000-”

“Toru…” Your words come out in a growl, crescent nail leaving neat indentations on his column of skin.

“J-just feels so much better, my girl.” Gojo insists, something swirling deeply in his eyes that makes your heartbeat irregular. “You’re so…so warm and- and wet. That stupid rubber could never compare to the adventitia and musclaris and- and I’m really fucking you.”

He is.

He was, at least until only a few vulgarly deep strokes probing in about halfway down his swollen shaft makes Gojo bump his ridged slit against one of those spots. The globe of Gojo’s proud cockhead leaves a hefted thud! that thunders pure bliss into your fuzzy head and makes you clench.

And it makes him cum. Again.

Wet spurts of warm seed splashing into each n’ every inch inside of you and filling you all the way up to the brim. There’s so many of his copious ribbons sloshing around inside of you, and it doesn’t even make Gojo’s tempo slow down.

It doesn’t even make him falter.

“Sh-shiiiit-” He’s hissing, lower lip worried and fussed between his teeth until you were sure he’d be drawing blood. “Cumming��!”

Dipping down a few fingers to part your soppy lips, Gojo’s thrusts get more relentless when he catches his eyes on the steady waterfall of cum and slick seeping into his hoodie. Fucking the webbed mess deeper - but it only wrings out more pearly wads streaming down.

Gojo’s voice wrenches out from the very back of his throat in a stubborn mewl, just about five octaves higher than you’re used to. “I came…inside.”

The one n’ only warning you get before he hooks an arm around the small of your back and flips the two of you over. Easily.

Back sinking into the velvety bed-covering, your spine arches in a geometrical semicircle off the mattress as Gojo takes the blasphemous opportunity to bottom out. His meaty tip finally meets the target of your spongy cervix, breeder balls clashing stickily into the split end of your folds with a hulking thwack!

And you’re almost wondering at just how it was possible that Gojo - nervous, bumbling Gojo Satoru who’d never even held hands with a woman before - had the willpower and strength to overpower a seasoned fighter like you.

But that’s when he tugs his utterly sullied hoodie off and you’re rendered thoughtless. Mouth watering at the toned ridges and curves that bulged all over his Herculean body.

Gojo wasn’t just toned - he was fucking jacked.

And all yours for the taking.

Just your greedy stare is enough to wash his cheekbones with a scorching blush, as if he wasn’t near-nine inches deep inside you already. You gasp when his tongue pokes out to catch a few dripping splat! splat! splats! of your slick still dripping from his glasses. “I-I read in a director’s cut that you like men with abs so I…”

And before you can even respond, his hips do all the talking for you. Striking your own with a deafening pap! of skin-on-skin, broad pecs heaving with a sharp inhale as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Wasn’t in control.

Two of his doughy palms veer underneath your now-jittery thighs and hoist them up effortlessly to dangle over his shoulders.

Gojo’s letting off a low grunt when his curvaceous knees slide wider across the pricey bedsheets. All the while mumbling, “N’ just because m’a hah- virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two. Like- I saw this thing ngh- o-online called a…” Bending you like a pliant lawnchair down, down, down- “-a mating press.”

Online? Mating press? You didn’t know what he was rambling on nonsensically about now, but maybe you could excuse that with the fact that he was stretching you out stupid.

“What a pretty boy.” You’re managing out, fingers unsticking a few strands of pearly white plastering onto his forehead. “Now s-stop teasing and hngh- fuck me.”

Your words are jolting such a dark, primal part of his brain. Eyes hooded, teeth pulling back with a low whimper of ah! The bed sings out a protesting creak when Gojo’s hand comes slamming! down onto the poor frame. Spitting out, “I-I can’t stop…fuck- I can’t stop. Won’t-”

He’s pushing and pushing his ravenous hips in animalistic little humps, the cylindrical shape of his cock swabbing in sultry circles around your gooey insides. Already splitting you apart snugly to the brim, but still he’s drilling in for more.

“You hafta move, Satoru-” Even your most gentle tone is enough to make his strawberry divot sugarcoat you in a thickly viscous few spatters of pre.

And when he talks he sounds wild, “Do I- haaaah- do I really hafta move? Jus’ wanna lose my virginity like this. Wanna stay inside you forever and ever and ever.”

He was already pussydrunk.

And it’s so cute it makes your heart clench. All over six feet of him melting into you by now; head heatedly shoved against the crook of your neck, motions glissading a slip n’ slide of his sexily defined abs pinned to your front. Powerless.

Gojo blinks up at you through thoroughly hazy eyes when you tilt his face back up to face yours, and the deep eye-contact makes him blush.

“But I really, really wan’ you to hah- fuck me.” You pout, and you already know by the stutter in his labored breathing that you have him wrapped around your cute lil’ finger. Jostling your hips in a slight buck, “Look-she’s begging for ya already.”

Oh.

“Is- is she really?” Gojo sighing out in surprise, eyes pondering down to where he was making your puffed-up pussy folds bulge. Slipping out a gasp before he’s clutching onto his nose to stop any more bleeding.

Your slobbering lips coated with a glimmer of his spit and cum, so very his that Gojo finds himself subconsciously nodding along to the sappy squelches bubbling from below.

“Yes- yes you’re right–” Propelling a slow drag of his hips to sweep every hidden orifice of yours inside, “Oh! Ya got l-louder- so you agree-”

He’s hiking up your legs even further up his shoulders, interlocking them with one massively flexing bicep held behind his head. Eyes still locked below - only then do you realize that he’s not talking to you.

And then again. And again. And again and again until Gojo was striking your poor cervix with repeated battering rams of his plump cock. Dense balls stinging against your ass with ringing thwacks. Spherical bruises of his circumference being indented over n’ over it’s like he doesn’t even realize.

Didn’t even know he was doing anything other than wrenching out the most sinful noises from your goopy pussy.

“Mhm- such a pretty ngh- pussy.” Spitting out the very word like it was embarrassing, two sizeable fingers latch around the plump peak of your clit. Transfixed. You wondered whether he even remembered his own name. “Such a pretty clit.”

“Fuck!” You’re halfway through sobbing when he sends shockwaves of pleasure all across your body. And even more so when one tilted drive of all his inches leaves a skidding skim down the area of your g-spot. “There- right there, Satoru-”

He’s gaping up at you as if suddenly snapped out of a hypnotic trance, only to fall into an all-new one. Disbelieving mouth parted slightly, he breathes, “I’m…fucking you. I’m actually- ohhh fuck m’fucking you- like really, truly. This isn’t a dream.” Like he just realized - and he just did. “M’giving you my cock- making you t-take alllll of it-”

Never in his life did he think anything could ever feel this good. He was never going back. He would never be the same.

Your drooling pussy was molding around him so nicely, taking onto the very shape of his long shaft. Massaging every inflamed vein poking against your splashed walls, so warm with the leftover puddles of his own sticky cum.

He’s worshipping you, tilting his head to place a heady trailway of wet kisses down each of your ankles. “M’yours so m’-” Then your calves, your tits, your collarbones, everywhere and anywhere-

“-m’gonna make feel h-hah good.” His nose scrunches with focus, a few fat ends of Gojo’s fingers come down from pinning your ankles to splay out on your tummy. All bloated with his thick outline that even through his fogged-up glasses, he swears he could see a bulge. “Need to find it- need to.”

Pound after pound being placed desperately onto everywhere he could reach inside of you. You can feel the baking hot swash of his sap coating you in a second skin. Each dab of his ballooned crownhead leaves behind a marking bead of buttery pre.

And maybe it was the way you’re feeling the slow trickle of all his sappy torrentials inside you, but you’re gurgling out a little, “What- what are you-”

“The g-spot.” Gojo answers your messy blithers of syllables with a tender rub onto your clit. Though, he wasn’t too far behind himself, if the way his digits trembled told you anything. “It’s s-supposed to be somewhere in the hah- anterior vaginal wall, between your pretty hole and the urethra. Often said to be stimulated about a few inches ngh- up-”

But this time, you’re the one cutting him off. With a rapid, deprived rut that bustles his left-leaning curve to head in a jackhammer precisely towards your bulging g-spot.

And then you see white.

Perhaps from the sheer shock of him leaving a good French kiss that tenderizes your sweetest hidden coves, perhaps from the way that the both of you are cumming.

“Shit- shiiiit-” You’re perking your ass to smack against his in lewd little paps, half-formulated moans flooding your mouth with each delicious thrust being planted right onto that spot. Gojo’s fucking you through each of your edges, over and over until you feel yourself crashing back-to-back into not one, not two, but three orgasms. “Really did fuck me- hngh- ah-”

Before you even realize, you’re throwing your arms around Gojo’s rippling shoulder muscles to claw a few artistic lines of red. And he loves it- fuck, it makes him cum even harder.

“S-spit in my mouth, ma’am.”

And when you do, he latches onto yours with a messy, messy open-mouthed makeout. Groaning around his second-favorite activity of sucking your cute tongue - his most favorite activity being fucking this depraved cunt of yours.

Cumming and cumming until he physically can’t. Steady rivers of seed logging up whatever remnant space inside your snug cunt before he sputters out sheer nothingness.

A shiver wracks through Gojo’s body with the way he was cumming dry. And once he spies down a few whipped globs of it spilling out to form a velvety ring around his base, he’s plugging your leaky entrance with a few free fingers.

Lapping up that trickling excess with a slow suck peering right into your eyes before he seals you with his jostling digits back up again.

“Love it- love it love it love it-” He’s letting loose with each spasm of parching cum overspilling your flooded insides, those ribbony meshes swirl all around his pumping cock and trickle down in a creamy stream. Coating his twitchy balls no matter how much he tries to make you milk up every ounce, so much of it. Hot. “Love it- love being your good boy- I love you.”

Gojo’s heart races when you only plant a cute peck onto his sheened glasses, and then another onto his mouth. Resting your sweaty head against his very own, “How would ya like to be my own royal consort, Toru?”

Ah, it was virtually a proposal. To stay by your side forever and ever and ever - the only thing he’s ever wanted, really.

And Gojo’s about to kiss your awaiting lips senseless as an answer- that is, he was about to before both your ears chime with an undeniable PING!

Before an agitating, gratingly familiar voice rings across your heady atmosphere, “Congratulations user: [Satorulovesprincess] on completing Mission: No-Longer-Virgin!” You’re wincing at the sterile glow of that screen once more. “Please await the new updates to the program Sweetheart Online.”

And you both barely even have time to register those words before there’s a thunderous creak! from the empty space of your royal bed.

Except…the bed wasn’t so empty anymore.

Right with your heated proximity was a man - a beautiful man. All long legs, and inky hair that ran down to his slender waist, twinkling amethyst eyes rounded in the exact same shock that shone in Gojo’s right about now.

“Suguru?”

“Satoru!” Before he’s tilting his head towards you, and perhaps most glaringly, the way that Gojo was still scouring deeply inside you. A delicate blush tints his - Suguru’s - high cheekbones, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end. “P-princess.”

And something about his tone made your cunt quiver - just in time for Geto to shuffle the tightening crotch of his pants. Something that Gojo noticed, if the way he was crushing you to his body even tighter said anything.

“Let me guess-” Gojo tilts his head, a sleazily drunken smirk curving the edges of his ruddied lips. “-the truck got you haaaah- don’ squeeze me like that, my girl– too?”

“It- it was ramen poisoning actually…” Geto’s deep baritone trails off, struggling to rip his eyes away from you as the screen flickers once more.

“Sweetheart Online updates completed! Commencing Love Rival (Three’s Company) arc. User: [Sugulovesprincess] joined.”

A/N. MAN I love loserboy Gojo hehehe- hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

9K notes · View notes

luv-lock · 3 months ago

Text

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSTRAWBERRY BABYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Jason Todd x Fem Reader

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : You Just Gave Birth To Your Child, Jason's Child, The Love Of Your Life. But Everything Went Wrong When You Saw The Child...

☆⁠ NOTE : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Your life was supposed to be perfect right now. You just gave birth to your beautiful baby—a moment that should have been magical, joyous, and filled with happy tears.

Instead, you were losing your mind.

Because the baby in your arms… did not have black hair. Not even a single dark strand.

No.

Because the baby—the tiny, fresh-out-the-womb infant that you had just spent hours screaming into existence—was blonde.

Blonde.

BLONDE.

And he looked exactly like Jason.

Now, for most normal people, this wouldn’t be an issue. In fact, it would be a cute, happy moment—"Oh wow, he looks just like his dad!"—but you? No. You were spiraling. Because Jason had black hair. Jet black. Dark as the night. Dark as his soul (romantically speaking).

And your baby?

Your baby had a tuft of blonde hair that made him look like a tiny cherub sent straight from heaven.

Which made no damn sense.

You hadn’t cheated. Hell, you barely even looked at other men since getting together with Jason because—let’s be honest—your man was already borderline psychotic when it came to his jealousy.

So, if you had cheated (which, again, you HADN’T), you would already be dead. There would be no hospital room. No baby. Just a Jason-shaped shadow standing over your shallow grave.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were staring at your son, this tiny, beautiful baby with blonde hair.

Which would be fine. If Jason had fucking blonde hair.

But he didn’t. He had black hair.

You were a hundred percent sure of that. You had run your fingers through that thick, inky hair so many times. You had tugged it when he pissed you off. You had yanked it when—

That didn’t matter right now.

Because either you had just given birth to the wrong child, or—OR—

“Oh my God,” you choked, your voice cracking as you looked at the baby in your arms with sheer, bone-deep horror. “Jason’s going to think I cheated on him.”

The room went silent.

A nurse looked at you with wide eyes, hesitating mid-step. Alfred, ever the picture of composure, cleared his throat, carefully folding a tiny onesie. And Dick—because of course Dick was here—froze mid-bite of his celebratory snack, a hospital pudding cup, before slowly turning to you.

“Uh… what?”

“I didn’t cheat on him,” you gasped, convulsing in hormonal sobs as you clutched the tiny baby closer to your chest. “I didn’t! I swear I didn’t!”

“I mean, obviously,” Tim mumbled, looking more alarmed at your emotional breakdown than at the situation itself.

But you weren’t listening. You were spiraling, your voice getting more frantic.

“Oh my God. What if they gave me the wrong baby?” you whispered, eyes darting wildly around the hospital room. “What if some poor woman out there has my real baby? And I have hers?”

“Miss, please,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Damian, perched in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, made a disgusted sound. “That’s your child, idiot. It looks just like Todd.”

“NO, HE DOESN’T!” you wailed. “JASON HAS BLACK HAIR!”

Damian just scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I—WHAT?!” you shrieked.

Dick sighed dramatically, putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t believe we have to do this right now. Jason’s gonna lose his mind.”

That set you off even worse. Jason’s gonna lose his mind?! Oh God, oh God, he was going to think you cheated. He was going to leave. He was going to storm in here, take one look at the baby, and—

You sobbed harder. Ugly cried harder.

Bruce actually looked like he was reconsidering every decision that led him to this moment.

“Uh, wow,” Tim muttered.

“I didn’t cheat,” you repeated, voice breaking. “I mean—how would I even have the time?! Jason’s always around! He’d kill anyone who looked at me for too long! It doesn’t make sense!”

“Why are you trying to convince us?” Damian scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be telling Todd?”

Your stomach dropped.

Jason.

Jason wasn’t here.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

“I—I love him so much,” you sobbed, clutching your little (wrong?!) baby. “I—oh my God—what if he leaves me?! What if he thinks I—Oh God, he’s gonna think I cheated, and I didn’t, I swear—”

“Jason’s going to break the door down when he gets here,” Tim muttered, rubbing his temples.

“No, he won’t,” Bruce grumbled.

CRASH.

Jason absolutely broke the door down.

It slammed against the wall so hard that even your baby, who had been peacefully asleep through your meltdown, flinched.

"Fucking Gotham traffic, I swear to—"

He froze.

You were crying.

Sobbing.

Hysterical.

His brain ran a million miles per hour. Did something happen? Did you change your mind about the name? Did one of the nurses insult you? Did he leave the oven on? Did someone die?

His eyes darted to the baby in your arms.

Tiny. Swaddled. Breathing.

Okay. Not dead.

So why the fuck were you crying like this was a damn crime scene?

"Uh," Jason started. "Baby? What’s wrong?"

You let out another broken sob, clutching the baby to your chest.

Jason panicked.

You started crying so hard you couldn’t even get words out. Just absolute, gut-wrenching sobs while Jason rushed to your bedside, grabbing your face.

“Baby, baby, what’s wrong?!” he panicked, his voice an octave higher. “Did they hurt you?! Are you in pain?! Do I have to kill someone?! Is it Bruce?! I bet it’s Bruce.”

Bruce exhaled through his nose, deeply unimpressed.

It's just made you cry harder.

"Oh, God—what happened?! Are you okay?! Is the baby okay—"

"Jason, I SWEAR I didn’t cheat on you!" you blurted out.

Jason blinked.

Everyone collectively flinched.

"…What?" Jason said, voice flat.

"I didn’t cheat! I would never cheat! I love you, and you were my first, and I would never, I would never, I—"

"Baby," Jason said slowly, trying to wrap his head around this absolute fever dream. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You let out another shaky breath, eyes darting around the room in pure panic. "T-the baby, Jason. Look at him."

Jason frowned, stepping closer. He looked at the baby. Looked at you. Looked at the baby again.

"…Yeah?" he said, confused.

"He has blonde hair!"

Jason blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then turned to the rest of the family like they had the answers.

Dick rubbed his temples. "Jay."

Jason turned back to you, lips parting like he was about to say something, then stopping. Then opening again. Then stopping.

“I swear I didn’t!” Your sobs renewed, your shoulders shaking as you held up the tiny, peacefully sleeping baby. “But look at him! He has blonde hair! He looks exactly like you! But you have black hair! I think I got the wrong baby, or I cheated on you in my sleep, or maybe you’re going to leave me—”

Jason stared.

Then he turned, slowly, toward the rest of the room. “…Did you guys let her spiral like this on purpose?”

“Yes,” Damian said, unbothered.

“Absolutely,” Dick grinned.

Jason inhaled deeply.

Then, to your absolute shock, he let out a long, tired sigh—before shoving a hand through his hair and grumbling, “I fucking forgot you didn’t know.”

You hiccupped again. “Wh—what?”

Jason gave you a flat look. “Babe. My hair. I’ve been dyeing it black since I was a kid.”

Your breath caught. “Huh?”

“Because of him,” Jason added, jerking his thumb toward Dick, who just wiggled his fingers in a smug little wave.

Silence.

More silence.

The world stopped.

The Earth stopped spinning.

Your breath hitched. "You…"

Jason nodded.

"You… had blonde hair?"

Jason nodded again.

You sniffled. Sniffled again. Processed this information.

Then immediately let out a loud, gut-wrenching, ugly sob and buried your face in your hands.

Jason Todd. Your husband. Your big, scary, six-foot-four, muscle-bound, leather-wearing husband. The man who used to be the meanest street kid in Crime Alley. The man who could disassemble a gun with his eyes closed and had murdered actual people.

Had spent his entire life dyeing his hair because he wanted to look like Dick Grayson.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes wide.

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “Babe—”

“Oh my God.”

“Listen, it’s not—”

“You mean to tell me I’ve been married to you this whole time thinking you had black hair, but you’re actually some kind of undercover blonde?!”

“Strawberry blonde,” Tim corrected.

Jason shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

You gasped, gripping his jacket like you might collapse. “You mean to tell me this baby is actually yours?”

Jason exhaled. Then he stepped forward, resting a warm, solid hand against your cheek before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, babe,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin. “He’s mine.”

"Oh my God," you wailed. "I’m so stupid."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Jason sat on the bed, grabbing you. "You’re not stupid. You just had a baby. And hormones. And clearly, no one ever showed you my baby pictures."

"This whole time," you hiccupped, voice muffled, "I thought they swapped our baby, and I stole some random kid. I thought you were gonna leave me!"

Jason sighed, rubbing your back. "Sweetheart, I would never leave you. Especially not over our perfectly fine, baby."

Damian scoffed. "Tt. As if anyone else would willingly have a child with Todd."

Jason shot him a glare. "Not the time, demon."

Dick sighed, stepping forward and ruffling Jason’s hair. "Guess we should’ve mentioned that whole blonde thing earlier, huh?"

Jason glared. "You think?"

Stephanie shook her head. "I thought everyone knew. It's, like, a family fun fact at this point."

"I DIDN’T KNOW!" you shouted.

Jason pulled you into his arms, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. "It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. I promise."

You sniffled, eyes red and puffy. "So… he’s really yours?"

Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead. "He’s really mine."

You let out a weak whimper. "I wanna see your baby pictures."

Jason chuckled. "Alright, sweetheart. When we get home, I’ll show you all of them."

Tim crossed his arms. "I have them saved on my phone."

Jason turned his head. "Why the fuck do you have baby pictures of me on your phone?"

Tim shrugged. "For emergencies."

Jason squinted. "…What kind of emergencies?"

Tim smirked. "Like this one."

Jason pulled back, finally looking down at the baby in your arms.

And—oh.

The storm in his eyes vanished.

Replaced by something warm. Something deep. Something soft.

The big, scary Red Hood, suddenly looked—small.

Awe-struck.

Because there, curled in your arms, was a tiny, sleeping baby with blonde hair and soft little features that looked just like his.

Jason swallowed.

Then, hesitantly, he reached out, brushing his fingers over the baby’s little fist.

“…Holy shit,” he murmured.

Dick grinned. “You made a clone.”

Jason turned to you, eyes softening.

Then he kissed you—long, deep, and full of love.

“I love you,” he muttered, lips still against yours.

— MASTERLIST ☆

8K notes · View notes