#and no one has bitten as of yet

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

This is my daughter Hester! She is a string eater- so no strings allowed into the house. She is also a Thief! When she was a kitten (about 1kg) she stole 2kgs of meat, dragged it under a sofa so she could eat it. We literally accused my dad of first leaving it in the shops and second, that he imagined buy the meat 🤣 She later stole my mum's necklace when she went for a shower- her wedding rings were threaded through it as well. Also my mum's gold watch, and a container with gold earrings in it.

When she drinks water it sprinkles up onto her nose and leaves her with fashionable sparkles, or if I give her kisses without realising, a little sip of water that she shares with me 😆

She is currently living with my parents bc I work insane shift hours and she would be very lonely.... no one thinks about how lonely I might be!! I miss her a lot 😢

Hester has been assigned the title: Arcane Trickster.

[hyade]

chengxian’s orpheus and eurydice motifs are going to slowly drive me to the brink of insanity but i’m cool with it

[r-aindr0p]

Messy doodle dump of my twst non yuu ocs, there’s two that I havent shown before. Mainly did this to have one approximate ref sheet instead of many scattered here and there.

The ones with no family names are not twisted from any character, just guys

And the python vibin at diasomnia in his uh, own ways

More useless info on some of them :

Jean doesn’t seem to be able to grow his hair nice and long

Knows Verdant and Marius from primary school

He’s a rowdy guy but since he’s at heartslabyul he has been behaving (thanks Riddle)

Yes Leona does absolutely ignore him, Jean’s even more of an annoying cub than cheka mentally sometimes

Aak is probably the tallest student if malleus’ dragon form is not taken into account

His useless talent is he can swallow swords

Has bitten many students for funsies (tweels included)

Is a python, thus, a great swimmer in snake form

Verdant is just a lil guy who is eager to be of service

Marius mainly sneaks out of RSA to check on Verdant since Jean used to pick on the lil snake

Michel is a salty guy, probably not as salty as Rollo but not far

Petty with anyone really

Is a fae, his parents are weirdly obsessed with humans and live in fleur city and do just as them, using magic scarcely.

They wanted their son to have his ears changed to appear human like they did but Michel refused and pursued his studies as a mage.

[askthebadkidz]

I think if Riz ever did have a partner he would not kiss them no matter what is sexuality/romantic orientation was. He’s a goblin, he’s autistic, he’s literally fucking feral, that bitch would BITE. He would bite in a qpr, too. He is not kissing even if he wasn’t aromantic, you’re losing blood, motherfucker.

-Mod Fig

[menlove]

sighs as I open up another google doc

[psuejo]

❥ tied him down to my queen bed!

“fuuuck, baby—”

never in toji fushiguro’s thirty-eight years of living has he let himself get tied up. not during jobs, always too quick and nimble to even let them get close, nor when he was sleeping around. he was always on top, always the one tying them down and fucking them silly.

yet here he is, thick wrists and ankles bound to the posts of your bedframe, legs spread just for you. he can’t help it, not when you’re bouncing on his dick like a see-saw, a repetitive up and down that has those lightning veins dragging through your gooey insides.

“mmmgh, s-shit,” he moans, and it teeters off into a breathy chuckle, practically drowning in feigned confidence. even now, toji still wants to save face with that wobbly smirk on his face, though you definitely know better.

god, he feels like a teenager again, balls heavy and aching cock sensitive to every slight flutter and suctioning clamp of your sweet pussy. it’s like you’ve cast a spell on him, made him weak to your soft touches, the gentle bat of your long lashes, the feeling of your reverent lips peppering his face in endless kisses whenever he returns from a job.

that’s precisely how he ended up like this, tied down to your bed with just a small pout of your glossy lips and a few low, choice words whispered into his ear that’d had his pants instantly growing tight.

it hasn’t even been ten minutes, and toji’s ready to cum. you see it in the way his eyes keep fluttering like he’s having to fight the urge to let them roll back, how his hips don’t stop bucking up into you, shoving his dick in deep enough to create that perfect, cylindrical bulge in your tummy that has him drooling with endless moans and barely bitten off whimpers.

“c’mon, doll, un... mmf— untie me.” his hands flex, testing the barely sufficient restraints. “lemme f-fuck you right. that’s what ya want, y-yeah? jus’ untie me, baby, hah—”

you shake your head, hands on his chest as you up your pace, a familiar pressure building low in your spine. “you p-promised, toji.”

he did promise, he knows that, and he hates breaking them, but with the way you’re now swiveling your hips in torturous figure-eights, snug cunt milking him for all he’s worth, he is genuinely not gonna last.

“baby, pleaseee? you feel s-so fucking good, toji, god—” your voice is as sweet as ever, making the thick walls around toji’s mind melt into goopy, lovesick puddles and his balls draw up tight.

he doesn’t mean to cum before you, honest, but when you’re talking to him like that and riding him so good, he can’t help but pump thick, hot ropes of cum right into your womb, jaw slack for a long, whiny groan.

you don’t even get the chance to process the tears in his eyes before the ropes snap, two big hands coming down on your waist and flipping you right onto your back.

“toji, hnngh, wait—!”

your boyfriend just gives a rough shake of his head, the ropes sliding free from his wrists and ankles as he hikes your legs around his waist. his dark fringe falls in front of his face, and, for a foolish moment, you think he’s going to listen.

but toji has never been good at being submissive for long, even with you.

with a rough snap of his hips, he slams home, pushing that previous load of cum even deeper. “n-nah. ‘s my turn now.”

[tonycries]

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

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

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

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

Word count. 4.8k

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

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

“Toru.”

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

“Toru-”

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

“Satoru!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Sukuna.”

“Oh.”

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel something soft - fleeting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Urgent. Dangerous.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck- here.” he spits.

Slam!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say that again.”

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

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

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

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

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

And again. And again and again and-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“B-but-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-”

“N’ who got you this fucking wet?”

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

“F-fuck you, Toru!”

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

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

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

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

Pop! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck you could see why it was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t! Oh- T-ngh”

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

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

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

But it still wasn’t enough.

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

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

Shit, you might’ve just broken him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SLAM!

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

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

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

A/N. Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[acid-ixx]

worthless speculations (a loving family, an unpalatable desire drabble)

ft. yandere superfam x gn! neglected spouse reader x yandere batfam

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ! ; related post !

all it took was a candid shot of the resident, widowed journalist who's not-so subtly hiding his affair with the infamous spouse of bruce wayne to spark immediately rumors.

for weeks, it seems, the table has once been turned on bruce as you've found yourself the center of attention, spending time with your new family, with the very man who has come to save you months ago from the cruel hands of the paparazzi.

it started with the first picture, which quickly blew up into many photographs in such a short span.

one of a simple date, where some stranger, a fan of you, saw you at a park, having a cute picnic with both clark and jon. at first, most would assume that clark's probably just a close cousin of yours, with just a kid you're babysitting, right?

wrong. the proximity you have with the unknown man is too intimate. someone's got a close shot, and through the lenses, you wouldn't even need a damn interpreter to just see how his palms are rested against your thighs, massaging occasionally without thought nor pattern, as if it's been a natural habit of his; or how in another shot, he handfeeds you the sandwich, then takes a bite in the same spot you have bitten. he doesn't take a napkin to wipe away the remaining condiment on your lips, and—

oh!

he licks at his thumb then quickly brings his lips near yours, closing the space in between with a peck that draws out too long to be even considered remotely platonic.

a kiss packed with longing and desire.

his tongue sneakily swipes at the remaining cream on the side of your tongue. your nose crinkles and you swat his face away, but you don't look disgusted, don't even pull away as you softly swipe away the strands of hair framing his glasses.

some commentor mentions how warm your face looked, another replies with just how your fingers quickly made their way to fiddle with the man's arm in another candid photo.

the child beside you, meanwhile, makes a grossed face, cringing at the obvious romance— then he clings to you, slapping his dad (?) away from you. his hands are wrapped around your waist, and click!

it looks like the kid's looking up at you with puppy eyes, mumbling something whilst you laugh and ruffle his hair. another spectator managed to capture a video.

then a lipreader on twitter made out the words the kid is saying. he's begging for ice cream, he says with a pout, neapolitan, he says, and that he made sure to eat all the vegetables in his sandwich. then he grins when you giggle at him and whip your head to the man beside you who replies with:

"oh, sweetie, don't fall for his lies; he just sneaked junked food last night to his bedroom."

the kid, who's now famously referred to as jon, your precious little baby, as you love to call him — and since the internet is so obsessed with drama, a lot of people were smart enough to piece the puzzle together, the man you're with is clark kent — sticks his tongue out his father, then stubbornly crosses his arm yet just as quickly return to his begging.

the person recording hidden behind the bush had to do a double take, their hands shook when the audio recording picked up your faint whispers, and they were sure to gods that you referred to yourself as... as clark's spouse?!

and did jon just call you his parent?

you're brave— no, scratch that, the people you're with are even braver.

it's like they're making it obvious that you've been claimed into another family; that you oh-so easily estranged yourself from the wayne's to live a mundane, yet peaceful, loving life with the kent's just to escape the constant torment of living under an empty roof.

but still, to be that obvious is a dangerous move, isn't it?

to show up in public, unannounced, in matching trio outfits, sometimes even appearing with another unknown figure who always has shades on, to a crowd of people who take pictures of you every moment is such an iconic, yet ruining admission that you've basically (and rightfully) had an affair with no shame.

after all, who would ever think of cheating on a billionaire, one of the most famous, too!? that's basically asking for a divorce, which leads to losing all your assets. most socialites who marry into old money families are aware that even if your partner cheats, you'll still be strong enough to bear through the pain, but god are you brave for making another scene just some days after, in a cinema no less without a care in the world if the people around you watched your barely disguised pda.

well, you aren't most socialites to begin with, you've only ever married for convenience.

even when news stations were going haywire for the rumors, when so many commentators on tiktok, podcasts on twitch and youtube have you as their main topic of the week— your little family is nonchalant about everything.

it was the number one trending tag, the only headline every person focused on.

and the best (or worst in your case) part of it all, is that this was all perfectly curated by your own affair partner.

a little handholding, soft touches and caresses on your cheeks, muscled palms resting comfortably on your shoulders, and jon's tiny hands latching onto your body, nuzzling on the expanse of your stomach whilst his head tilts up to look at you with the widest puppy eyes, asking you to buy him more sweets with his freckled smiled and toothy grin— it creates this immaculate opportunity for passerby's with enough knowledge about the wayne's messy relationship status to immediately catch on to the infamous face of bruce's poor, naive spouse now in a date.

and it's not even the first date you were all caught together.

who wouldn't whip their phone out faster than the well-known speedsters to conspicuously take shots of your seemingly happy and satisfied composure?

unlike with all the moments where you are with bruce, pictures of your uncomfortable hold on his shoulders, the stares from a distance never directed at you from galas, or the way your hands quickly unwrap from his the moment your magazine pictures are finished— you look refreshed, downright gleaming brighter than the sun that could even make some senile, grumpy man smile.

your small fanbase grows quickly: people never knew just how gorgeous you are not until they see your lips quirked up, mischievously peppering the unknown child with kisses, then standing on your tippy toes next to the hulking figure beside you to give him a gentle peck on the lips.

in your current place at the farmer's market, you are glowing like a ray of sunshine, never before had the crowd ever seen you without a strained smile, never seen your eager eyes at your affair partner's sweet surprises, never seen you so willing to pick up your child and pepper his face with kisses all over his face at yet another cheesy joke he concocted.

and it's perfectly become a topic of gossip for the citizens of gotham and metropolis on the seemingly new, and unexpected affair of one of the richest man in the world's spouse.

well, if they could even call you bruce's spouse, not when his eyes are always elsewhere. not when there's been dozens of news highlighting the gossips about bruce's past affairs.

and right now, it seems you're not even wearing the diamond encrusted ring on your finger anymore. the longer you are exposed to the public, the more people notice the lack of bedazzled jewelry, or even notice

and instead, you sport a simple silver promise band on your left hand, which somehow gleams brighter than your previous ring. you wore more casual clothes, sometimes match color schemes with your little family. most of the time, you wear your affair partner's huge jackets and let it drape across your body.

others say your lazy efforts, your carelessness compared to your rigid styles before felt more befitting for you— and you are... cuter whenever they see you beside clark to assist him with his office work with a matching messenger bag hanging off your shoulders.

some people were so invested in your relationship, a close-up zoom in on clark's wallet revealed a picture of your family with the addition of ma and pa kent in his wallet's clear frame. his fond smile while looking at the photo made fangirls swoon.

and with you always trying to reach atop the nest you call his hair, always ruffling it to fix the mess, people began seeing you two as the couple goals, an embodiment of what years of love looked like despite only being together for months in their; people are unaware of how long your affair has been.

never knew clark has set his sights on you since the day of your marriage with bruce.

but it's alright if people only see the surface level of his devotion to you—

because at least his beloved is thriving.

and at least their support, their obsession over your relationship with him helps in tying you even closer to him—

without your complaints, without your hesitation.

because you love him, and he loves you. jon and even conner has warmed up to you. they all love you, and no amount of material compensation bruce throws at you can amount to the dedication and patience clark has burnt off for years to scoop you in his arms at your lowest moments.

just like a true superhero does.

he loves seeing you as the best version of yourself everyday, and you only do so because you're with him and the people who actually love you, only them.

some people who bumped shoulders with you every time you dropped jon off to school said you even smelled even less intense, like you didn't feel the need to bathe in expensive perfumes anymore. you are softer now, more homely and buzzed with a familial joy none has ever seen or felt in you before.

unlike last time, you're more confident in greetings. reducing your appearances in galas lessened your eyebags. you were the epitome of new beginnings, a symbol for citizens that maybe second chances aren't too scare in the first place.

people whisper that you've probably divorced bruce, or that your previous husband doesn't give a damn about your affair.

a person occasionally tweets questions regarding your affair, if bruce is aware about the entire thing, if it hurts his ego, or if he doesn't care at all. his fanbase still loves him, obviously. they still see him as their beloved problematic playboy, but it's concerning how others sweep your affair under the rug with every new gala published, or how news about his children sometimes overthrows the current gossip of the day about you.

of course, the media feeds off the drama like bottom feeders. there's a resurgence of even more theories regarding your complicated relationships. one person even briefly mentioned what a coincidence it is that the dick grayson is found to be eating at an adjacent restaurant beside the one you and clark were found out.

there was a trending tweet once, one that highlighted the strangeness of your previous children's sudden frequent appearances in metropolis too.

others argue it's just an overreaction, but nobody ever denied that claim itself.

some people are anticipating bruce's reaction to the tweet, too. would he stay silent, would he grovel at your feet, or is this some sort of competition between these two?

there's a conspiracy that bruce is letting all the drama simmer down, that this may be a publicity stunt. a smaller fanbase that liked your complex relationship with the man wanted you both to return together, many argue that you look better off with him— clark feels the urge to find each and every individual who's stated this if not for your current laughs in the kitchen with jon distracting him from darkening thoughts at every annoying theory.

though most of the time, thankfully, others defend your actions and clark's, even stating that it's right that the once silent and solitary spouse of bruce deserves at least decent treatment; because from all the gathered news you before, it's always just you who fusses over bruce's children like a worried hen, it's always you who adjusts and kisses your husband's ties with a fond, yet tired smile.

and some miss those softer moments they've seen on screen, even bruce himself finds his fingers dangling on his past ties in his office, unknowingly reminiscing on the warm lips that once held the same tie. and the hot dinner left cold and diverse snacks untouched always left beside his desk, and your worried coo every night he stayed up late, and...

and just how much of a perfect spouse you actually are.

it's only when it's too late, when you're too deep into your romance with clark that he finally discovers how much he misses you, your concerned whispers, your frustrated quirk of the eyebrows that you hide from him every time he rejects your advancement, your constant presence in his life until it felt like it was never there, the way you weaved yourself so easily into his life and slipped away just as quickly because of his stupidity.

in a moment of weakness one evening, when restlessness and the yearning for your soft touch urged him once more, bruce finally gained the courage to confront all the rage about you—

he tells himself it's out of curiosity, just that.

nothing else, but god, the sight of you with someone else for once hurts more than intended.

it punches him even more in the gut once he realizes that you're with his coworker, his teammate, his trusted friend who displays himself as the perfect puzzle piece beside you in every article. you don't wear your old ring, don't even wear a single piece of clothing in your old wardrobe full of luxury items.

you're different, but you're still you... just better off without him, without his children, without alfred or the comfort and protection of the manor.

alluring as you've always been, but you shine even brighter now, draped in gentle sunlight that dims in comparison to you.

and the longer he stares at your pictures, at your smile, the way your cheeks would slot so perfectly between his palms, and your hair that he knows he'd soon love to bury his nose in—

the easier it is for his hands to make its way to his contacts, ready to call alfred and his children—

and he finds himself concocting a plan faster than the need for rest swept away from his thoughts when he sees your silver band, the same design he found one day on clark's fingers after a mission.

of course, bruce is aware that he has to deal with the consequences of his actions, that his idiocracy led him at a stalemate where he's aware that your chances of returning to him is a measly zero—

but heaven forbid him, for he's still bruce. he's no lesser than the cunning, strategic vigilante he's known to be.

he'll always be one step ahead, and rummaging through the records on his desks reveals no sign of divorce papers, no legal precautions taken for custody and no angry relative of yours (who only sold you off to him to earn their share of profit) angrily contacting him.

it'll be one hell of a night, but it doesn't matter.

why?

the headline and content for the next day on a newspaper for the gotham news—?

"y/n wayne, spouse of famous philanthropist, billionaire bruce wayne found back in the arms of their old flame—?"

"there's been newer speculations, of y/n's supposed ex-husband and their children finally reconciling with each after after months of rumors regarding whether their divorce is real or not."

"—and after some investigations and a statement from the husband, bruce wayne, himself; it was finally confirmed that their divorce, was in fact, never legally processed— because, as it turns out, it was never filed at all."

a/n: that took a dark turn HAHAHAH you guys think this will be something cutesy? NO! this is my late april fool's attempt at fluff bec i love drama. please comment about what you think about this and let me hope to god this gains interaction </33 i like writing affectionate scenes with a tinge of insanity scattered in between.

also hive minds and parasocial relationships are seriously creepy to think about. that's why i tend to not often disclose personal things relating to me because of how easy it is to track someone and their life down 😭 this has been sitting on my drafts for a long time and i nearly forgot about it until someone reminded me to write for this series soo... transitioning pov's is genuinely such a struggle btw, ugh ☠️ hope u guys enjoyed this bec this is by far the hardest drabble to write.

taglist:

@imjustasimp132, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, @chericia, @queenofspades403, @naina326, @neerathebrightstar, @lilyalone, @sweetconnoisseurgardener, @nickey-diano, @tsuniio, @ssak-i, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lollipoppersposts, @peptox, @kdjhubby, @weirdcore-fantasy, @thypplover, @asdfghjklgayblog, @prince-nikko, @phoenixgurl030, @antionwithadrawingpen, @circe143, @ferchu0406, @kittzu, @yuyuzi-ling, @moonieper, @esthxio, @ryuushou, @nickey-diano, @ssak-i.

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.

[xprinceling]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ enhypen’s favorite positions.

. ׂׂૢ 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟.

ׂ╰┈➤s. 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠’ 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑥 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 wc.1.1k w. 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 + ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 (18+ 𝑚𝑑𝑛𝑖!) n.𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦!

heeseung - mating press. oh, he adores the mating press - like, obsessively. it's heeseung’s go-to position, his absolute favorite, the one thing he’ll never get tired of because it just hits different.

it’s the ultimate intimacy - chest to chest, hips locked together, faces so close you share each and every breath. you can kiss, bite, whisper filth, or just stare into each other’s eyes as he moves, drowning in the intensity.

the angle is chef’s kiss - deep, relentless, no escape. every thrust drags against all the right spots, and the way your body arches beneath him? utmost perfection.

there’s also something about having you pinned, completely at his mercy - it’s a power trip, which makes him reach a state of insanity.

also, the aftercare is immaculate. collapsed together, still joined, catching your breath while trading lazy kisses? godsent.

jay - cowgirl. when he wants control, when he wants to take his pleasure with desperate, bouncing frenzy - cowgirl is his kingdom.

the power dynamic is chef's kiss - gripping your waist and watching you take what you want - it's intoxicating.

chests heaving, hair tousled, that perfect flush spreading down your body as you move? art. absolute art.

slow, sensual rises and falls, then suddenly bouncing hard enough to leave bruises on your thighs. the versatility? unmatched.

his hands are free to wander - gripping hips, thumbing over nipples, pulling them down into a messy kiss - every touch just makes it better.

also - eye contact ruins him. locking gazes while you ride him? that's the kind of intimacy that leaves him trembling.

jake - doggy. oh, he lives for doggy - the raw, unfiltered thrill of it, the way it makes him feel both wild and worshiped at the same time. i's not just a position -it's a vibe, a whole damn experience.

the sight is everything- - he curve of your spine, the way your body moves, the sheer obscenity of or taking what he wants like this.

also that angle? brutal. every thrust hits different, punching out noises he didn't even know you could make. it's the kind of pleasure that borders on too much, and yet he’s always begging for more.

jake has complete control - hands tangled in hair, fingers digging into flesh, setting the pace rough and fast or slow and teasing. and you? totally at his mercy, reduced to whimpers and broken moans. (bonus points if there's a well-placed spank or two)

the pose is dirty talk central. growled praise, hissed curses, the kind of "you take me so fucking good" that leaves the both of you shuddering.

sunghoon - pronebone. he’s obsessed with it - the kind of obsession that makes him melt just thinking about it. it's his secret weapon, his guilty pleasure, the position he always circles back to, because it's just that good.

it's all about the surrender. you - face down, body pressed into the mattress, completely at hoon’s mercy. no distractions, just pure, unfiltered sensation - every thrust hitting deep, every drag of skin on skin pulling moans he didn't even know he had in him.

the angle is sinful. hips tilted just right, leverage perfect for hitting the spot that makes you see stars. and the view? devastating. the curve of your back, the way your fingers claw at the sheets, the desperate little noises muffled into the pillow - it's art.

sometimes he’s too wrecked for eye contact, too far gone for anything but the raw, grinding pleasure. it's the best of both worlds - filthy and possessive, but low-effort enough that the both of you can just take each other when you’re too hungry to bother with finesse.

the aftermath is a mess of shaky limbs and bitten-off laughs. collapsed together, still trembling, trying to remember how to breathe. maybe a lazy hand tracing the marks left on your ass, or a kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

sunoo - face off.  there’s something about the face-off position that drives him wild - the way you straddle him, thighs gripping his hips, bodies pressed so close the both of you can feel every heartbeat, every shuddering breath. it's raw, it's intimate, and it's his.

there's no hiding here - no buried faces, no turning away. just locked gazes, pupils blown wide with pleasure, watching every flicker of emotion cross each other's face. it's too intense, too vulnerable, and that's exactly why he craves it.

he’s the one beneath - completely at your mercy, forced to take whatever he’s given, hands gripping your thighs for leverage.

every movement hits just right - deep, relentless, with your weight pressing him down in the best way. the friction is maddening, the pressure unbearable, and neither of you would change a thing.

jungwon - reverse scoop. there’s something delicious about the reverse scoop -the way he folds you over, chest pressed flush against your back, hips cradled tight in his grasp. it’s possessive, it’s deep, and it’s inescapable.

he can set a brutal pace, grind slow and filthy, or pin you down with an arm hooked under your thighs, forcing you to take every inch. there's no leverage, no wiggle room - just pure, helpless surrender.

chest to back, lips on the nape of your neck, hands gripping wherever they can reach - it's overwhelming in the best way. the heat, the sweat, the way your breath hitches when he bites your shoulder? chef's kiss.

with his mouth right by your ear, he can murmur exactly what he’s going to do - or how good you feel, how tight, how his. either way, it's game over.

when he finally snaps, it's with his teeth sinked into your shoulder, hands bruising your hips, pressing you down into the mattress as he rides out the high.

ni-ki - spork. that tangled, half-folded, limbs-everywhere way of fucking isn't graceful, but that's why he loves it. it's desperate, uncoordinated, and so good he can't think straight.

one leg hooked over a shoulder, the other trapped between your bodies, back arched at a ridiculous angle - nothing about this is practical, but the way it makes you gasp? worth it.

somehow, this jumble of limbs lets him sink deeper than should be physically possible. every thrust punches the air from your lungs, and the choked-out moans it pulls from you? art.

the angle hits so good that neither of you can keep it together - breathy curses, bitten-off pleas, the wet slap of skin echoing between the both of you. it's filthy in the best way.

even in this mess you lock eyes - half-lidded, dazed, watching each other come undone. it's too intimate, too raw, and it ruins you every time.

the collapse is truly inevitable - muscles give out, you slide into a heap, still panting and laughing breathlessly. it's not elegant, but who cares when the aftershocks are that good?

-

divider credits: cursed-carmine

[suguann]

When you first introduce him, Simon instantly knows that he hates your now ex-boyfriend—especially after he broke up with you only two months into the relationship, and the reason behind it sets his teeth on edge.

You’re perfect and so sweet; how could he—

“He broke up with me because…I um…Do I really have to say it? It’s embarrassing.” 

He bumps his knee into yours because he really fucking sucks at saying the right thing when the moment calls for it. “You don’t have to say anything.”

With a huff, you get a little flustered and glance down into your glass of beer, brows furrowed. “I couldn’t make him fit.” 

It’s so soft, but he hears it as if you’d shouted it across the bar.

The only thought he can think of is that your ex-boyfriend is an idiot once he has your back pressed up against his chest and trembling thighs spread over top of his. Three of his thick fingers already work deep inside of you, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds and your breathy moans.

His thumb carefully drags over your clit, loving how you twitch in his arms. “See? Someone just needed to stretch your little pussy properly, huh?”

“Mhm.” You nod, pressing yourself further into him, thighs butterflying open. “It feels so good.”

“You’re so loose and wet. I bet my cock would slip right in.”

Your walls clench and flutter around him, and it takes everything in him not to toss you onto the bed and fuck you into his sheets. “Simon, can you fuck me? Please?” 

It’s hard to deny you when you ask so sweetly, but he can’t give you what you want—not yet. You whine when he pulls one of his fingers out, but it cuts off into a surprised squeak when he grabs your smaller hand to bring it between your thighs. 

“Put one of your fingers inside your pussy.”

You turn your head to look up at him, kiss-bitten lips pulled into a pout. “But—”

“Come on, love, be good for me.” Teeth nip your jaw as a warning. “I know you can be so good for me.”

Slowly, you ease your finger in beside his with little pants of his name. His cock jumps against your back as he watches your cunt open up to suck in the intrusion—it makes his stomach twist. Simon traps your finger between his and curls them alongside his inside you, tearing a sharp cry from your chest.

“You’re so gorgeous.” His words are raw, rumbling somewhere deep within his chest. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. So full. Better than your boyfriend ever could.”

Masterlist

[agoddamnrayofsunshine]

I’m sure someone has talked about this before but one thing I absolutely love about tbosas is how Snow’s descent into villainy is never once presented as something that was inevitable

So many villain origin stories portray this idea of a person who tries incredibly hard to be a good person, who takes every opportunity to be kind and to better themselves, but are ultimately doomed to fail by the narrative. Their environment and their circumstances make it impossible for them to be a good person, and while this is effective from a storytelling point of view it’s not exactly accurate to real life

In real life there is always a point where a bad person makes the decision to do something bad, they make the decision to prioritise themselves, their own power, money or desires over someone else. That’s how real life dictators are made, they are presented with every opportunity to be good, and they purposefully choose to not take it

This makes Snow’s storyline so effective because he is given so many opportunities to do the right thing and yet, at every single turn, he chooses to serve himself instead, exactly like how real dictators are made

Snow, unlike most people we see in the capitol, is in a unique position where he could genuinely have the chance to understand and relate to the people from the districts. He, unlike his classmates, is poor and spends most nights going hungry, he witnessed firsthand the cruelty of the capitol when Clemensia was bitten by the snakes for nothing more than lying about doing her homework, when his sister was forced to sell herself on the streets in order to feed the both of them

Throughout his book, the three people he is closest to are Tigris (who dislikes the hunger games, is a rebel, and a victim of the capitol forced to turn to prostitution), Sejanus (who is originally from district 2, dislikes the capitol and knows he will never be accepted there, and also a rebel) and Lucy Gray (who is a victim of the hunger games, from district 12, and is also treated horribly by the capitol). These are all people who gave him an opportunity to realise the cruelty of the system he was in, a chance to directly confront his prejudices and see that people from the districts are just the same as him, and yet he still refuses to take the chance to change

He is given every opportunity, he’s sent away from the capitol to be a peacekeeper in the districts, he forms personal connections with people from the districts, he helps Sejanus perform funeral rites, and yet at every moral crossroads he comes to he makes the wrong decision. He didn’t have to become a villain, and yet he made the choice to do so anyway, despite every chance he was given

I think it’s a really effective portrayal of Snow as a character, and it’s a very effective villain origin story for the type of villain that Snow is. It never once excuses him from his actions because it highlights just how accountable he was for his actions

[marvelslut16]

Robby's Biological Clock

Pairing: Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x resident!reader

Synopsis: Robby opens up to the reader that he realizes that he wants a child after finding out that he almost had one.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: Mentions of abortion. Standing a little to close to the edge of a roof. My poor writing, felt cute might delete later.

A/N: The writing bug has bitten me yet again. And I have another Langdon one half done already. Wrote this over the course of 2 days and I didn't proof read it, so I really hope it makes sense!

You keep your eyes trained on Robby after he passes his caseload off to Abbot, you’ve kept an eye on him for the last few hours really. Something shifted in him a few hours ago, and he went from his stern but friendly self to closed off and distant. With everybody. You’ve been watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to snap completely. Or have a breakdown.

You watch as Robby slips out a side door into the stairwell, and you know right away where he’s going. You’d never seen it with your own eyes, but it was a poorly kept secret in the ED that after a long grueling shift either Abbot or Robby would go up to the roof and the other would talk them down. Everyone who knew, knew they wouldn’t actually jump, it was just a release for them. 

This time you can’t ignore Robby’s obvious distress, watching Abbot get dragged into South eight by one of his residents for a consult, you make up your mind to follow Robby. Up and up and up the stairs you go, until the wind is rushing past your face. Taking a deep breath, you let the cooler air wash over you after a long shift, and a part of you understands why your two favorite attendings come up here. 

“I don’t want to talk tonight, Jack,” Robby’s voice floats to you with the wind at the sound of the door shutting, never bothering to turn around.

“It’s a good thing I’m not Jack then,” you walk over to the railing, looking at the sunset, not at your attending. 

“(Y/L/N), what are you doing up here?” Robby turns around at your voice, and you reach out your hand a little for him to grab if he needs to be steadied.

“Thought you could use someone to talk to, you’ve been off the past few hours,” he sighs at your words, and turns back to the sunset. “Can you at least come back on this side of the railing? Please?”

“I’m fine,” he ignores your plea, and your offer to listen to him, leaning back against the railing.You stand in silence with him for two minutes- you counted- before deciding to do something you have absolutely no interest in and, frankly, scares the shit out of you. Hiking one leg up, you swing it over the railing and slip to the other side beside Robby.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he whips his arm out in front of you to keep you from slipping or stepping too close to the edge. 

“The same thing you are,” you sass at him against your better judgement. 

“So if I jumped off a bridge you’d do it too?” he matches your sass, sounding just like your mom when she would talk about the dangers of peer pressure.  

“No, I’d be waiting at the bottom for your dumb ass so I could save you,” your voice is harsh, wanting to nip any conversation where he could possibly die in the bud. “So…”

“So?” he mimics your voice causing you to roll your eyes at him.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong?” you shift slightly to face Robby, back to the pink hues of the sunset.

“I found something out today,” he pauses, sighs, and rubs his forehead. “My world got turned upside down.”

“You aren’t dying, are you?” you tried, and failed to keep your voice neutral, fear lacing every word.

No,” he leans forward, and you clutch onto his arm desperately to make sure he doesn’t go tumbling if there’s a strong gust of wind. “Nothing like that.”

“Do you have a secret kid, or something?” you tease, and by the way his lips pull down into a frown, you know you’ve struck a little too close to home. “I’m sorry, I was just joking.”

“It’s fine,” his voice is gruff, but his soulful brown eyes give away that he is in fact, not fine. “Today a woman I used to date admitted that while we were together she became pregnant, and made the decision to terminate the pregnancy.”

“Robby-” he stops you before you can start pitying him.

“It really is fine. I understand. It was her decision and I support that, I would have supported her decision in the moment, too. But now I can’t stop imagining what my life would be like if I had a child,” he glances at your face, before looking back over your shoulder at the descending sun. “I love Jake like he’s my own, but any day now he could decide he wants nothing to do with me, and never talk to me again. For years I put off the idea of having kids, I didn’t want the burden while I was still in medical school, then I was focused on advancing my career, then I met Janey and she had Jake, and with Jake I felt like I didn’t need my own children.”

“But now you feel like you do?” you ask cautiously, surprised that by talking he’ll remember you’re here and clam up.

“I have to have a child soon if I want to see them grow up and see them off to college, my biological clock is ticking,” he tries to ease the tension with a stupid joke. “Since I found out this afternoon, all I’ve been thinking about is how I’d have a toddler now, I’d be taking my child for their first day of kindergarten, I could be signing them up for dance class or little league. I would actually take days off to take them on vacations, and go to waterparks, and fairs.”

“Well when you’re ready and announce to the world that the great Michael Robinavitch is ready to have children, there will be a line of women at least two blocks long offering up their ovaries for you. I’ll have to fight them off and keep them out of the ED so we can still treat patients.”

“You’re more confident than I am,” he locks eyes with you, finally. 

“Oh please, you’re kind, caring, funny when you want to be, and you have fantastic genetics!” you don’t know what you’re thinking, you aren’t thinking really, and reach out to brush your fingers lightly through his salt and pepper hair. “You still have a good head of hair, and gorgeous brown eyes that would look so adorable passed down to a baby. You’re going to be a fantastic dad someday soon, Michael.”

The door to the stairwell creaks open, both you and Robby jolt out of the little moment you’re having. You wobble a little and Robby practically throws himself at you to catch you and keep you upright. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper, face closer to his than it’s ever been before. You could just lean in two more inches and your lips would be on his. But you can’t do that, you can’t take advantage of him and his vulnerability he’s shown you tonight on the roof, and especially not when someone else has joined you two. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Jack barks out a laugh from the doorway. 

“Nope,” your voice cracks, and you carefully step away from Robby this time.

“Just trying to keep (Y/L/N) from falling,” Michael answers at the same time.

You thought the stairwell door opening was jarring, but nothing matches the cold feeling of reality washing over you at the use of your last name. It’s not like you expected him to fall to his knees and beg you to give him a child, but you at least thought after bearing his soul to you Robby could call you by your first name in front of other people, especially his best friend.

“Well I won’t take up anymore of your boyfriend's time,” you try to cut the tension, but it’s so thick you can’t even hack away at it.

“Myrna calls us the same thing,” Dr. Abbot shakes his head and offers you his hand.

“Thank you,” you smile at your second favorite attending as he helps you climb back over the railing. 

~

Everyone you worked with in the Pitt knew that you were having a tough time deciding if you wanted to be an ED attending or go into pediatrics once you graduate. You’ve always had a soft spot for kids, and they seem to always be attached to you, no matter how shy they were when they walked or were rolled through the doors. And that’s why Dana always makes sure you take the cases involving children. Today for instance, there’s a two year old back in the ER for the third time in just as many months because her fevers keep spiking and causing her to have seizures. 

Robby watches you with the girl, Eliana, you recognized her right away from her last few visits. He watches the way you crouch down to her height when she wants to ask you a question, making sure that you’re eye level with her. Watches the way you pull a dumdum out of your scrub pocket, you always have some in there in case a little comes in. The way you effortlessly scoop her into your arms to get her to stay still long enough to check to see if she bit her tongue or cheek too hard. 

Today you’ve promised Eliana that you’ll stay after your shift and sit with her until her parents arrive, both were at work when Eliana had her seizure at daycare. When Robby looks back over at you, you're curled up on a chair that he brought into the bay just for you, and Eliana is sitting daintily on your lap, both of you engrossed in the picture book Cassie’s son left in the break room a few years ago. If he strains his ears just enough, he can hear the different voices you give each character.

“Dude, you’re obviously in love with her,” Jack appears out of nowhere, waiting for Robby to hand off his cases.  Michael scoffs in denial, but his words are cut off, “even Gloria is betting on you guys.”

“Probably so she can send me to HR and fire me for dating a subordinate,” Robby pushes his readers back up, going back to the chart he was pretending to update while he stared at you.

“She won’t be a student anymore in one month man, I hate to break it to you, no one cares that you're her attending. Just you,” Jack sighs at his friend's stupidity. “So stop trying to come up with excuses for why you can’t go for it. I saw you two on the roof, the tension was palpable.”

“What are you, some kind of walking romance novel?” Robby puts his tablet down, the guise of updating a patient's chart long forgotten. 

“I’m just saying, if I had a woman as caring and as gorgeous as her offering to carry my babies, I would jump at the opportunity,” Jack throws his hands up in surrender at the glare Michael is sending his way. 

“How long were you out there?” 

An hour later you can finally leave, Eliana’s parents arrive with apologies, their eternal gratitude, and promises of them stopping by with donuts in the morning for the whole crew. Slowly, you trudge to your locker, doing mental math to figure how much longer it’ll be until you can slip into bed after a nice, long, steaming, shower. 

“Do you want kids?” Dr. Robby corners you by your locker, you thought he had left over an hour ago when his shift ended. 

“I’d have one in nine months if I found the right guy,” you refrain from swearing at his sudden appearance. “Why? Do you know a guy?” 

“I do,” Robby nods, backing you up into said locker. “With your nose and his gorgeous brown eyes, you two would have the cutest baby around.”

“You think?” your body relaxes into his when he rests hand on your hip, thumb sliding under your scrub top. 

“Most definitely,” he whispers, breath skimming across lips.

“Well Dr. Robby, your biological clock is ticking, we should probably get started now,” you laugh as he fumbles to open your locker, having given him the code over a year ago so he could grab you your cardigan when he grabbed his sweatshirt. He rips your purse out of the locker, grabs your hand and drags you out of the hospital. 

[lovegasmic]

OO1  𖤐 KINTOBER ; CORRUPTION

 toji, sukuna, satoru x f!reader ꒰ tw. manipulation leaning to dub con, age gap ꒱ taglist in the comments.

 𖤐 Megumi’s cute little friend from college who has the hots for Toji, but she’s just too shy and inexperienced to make the first move.

“Megumi and I? no, we’re just friends” is what you had said hours ago, when you so cutely arrived at his doorstep, with bitten lips and a notebook Megumi apparently forgot back at the lecture hall.

and Toji is not dumb not to notice the looks you give him, but it’s not sex all you want, or else you would have jumped on him on the spot, no, you’re a lot more innocent and naive, tugging on your skirt to cover your legs while sitting on his couch.

“is that so? i thought you were a thing” Toji is a lot more loose now, coming to sit next to you, a bit too damn close, and a hand on your knee.

suddenly a cheap porn video starts playing on Toji’s mind, one way too similar to your current situation, you mumbling a weak “we shouldn’t be doing this” while his hand is already sliding underneath your skirt.

his already rock hard cock twitching at the sight of your flustered self, panting for a mere touch on your inner thigh? god, Toji is going to enjoy this so much.

“boys your age don’t treat you like this” a calloused thumb tugs at your bottom lip, all puffy from your teeth digging on it, “are you going to be good for me, doll?” but can you really refuse? with the way the man towers over you, having you laying on your back, all flustered, panting with a lustful yet shy look on your eyes, one that Toji wants to turn into sheer submission.

Megumi’s not usually home, and although this detail should annoy his father, right now, the older is much happy about it, grateful that his son does not have to witness the way your puffy pussy lips part to greet the sticky, condom covered bulbous head of his cock, teasing, poking against your hole as if to taunt you to whimper louder.

“Toji...” sounds so heavenly how you moan his name, with a weak hand pushing on his lower abdomen, “we... shouldn’t...” is a weak complaint.

yet he does not even respond, almost forcefully sliding his tip into your tight cunt, grumbling at the sensation of your soft walls welcoming every fat inch, “you’re taking it well, doll” he smirks down at you, brutishly brushing your damp hair back in an attempt to be kind for a second, instead of just ravaging your insides.

your trembles, sobs and mewls all go straight to his balls, taut and full, forcefully slapping against your pussy with each thrust, no showing any signs of mercy even through your hiccuping moans, you’re enjoying it, soaking his cock down the couch, pussy fluttering and sucking him deeper with those pleading eyes of yours, dumb, gone just from some good cock.

with Toji’s large, broad chest pressing you down, forcing your hips to tilt up slightly, no one can blame you for getting cockdrunk, barely managing to squeal through the tongue shoving down your throat, “that’s an obedient girl” he chuckles, enjoying how you finally stopped mumbling comments over how this was wrong, now just focusing on soaking Toji’s balls with your creamy cunt.

 𖤐 the new sorcerer from the outskirts of town, with sparkling eyes, hopes and a dream. truly pathetic to Sukuna, to be honest, all humans are pathetic and a waste or time. but why has he gone so quiet after getting a glimpse from inside Yuuji’s body.

obsessed is not a proper word, he’s not curious either, but there’s something about you that Sukuna wants to ruin so bad, he wants... needs to break your spirit and those sparkling eyes of yours.

it kind of fucks you up how the curse seem to stop talking when you’re around, Yuuji himself telling how how odd it was for Sukuna not to pester you too.

little did you know it was all part of a plan to lure you into his domain, not even giving you a second to process what was happening, having your defenses down and much easier to manipulate, such a terrible idea for a sorcerer.

“aren’t you so naive?” his hand squeezes your cheeks together, tone mocking right against your face, “did no one teach you not to let your guard down? useless human”

embarrassment, fear and awe all burn through your veins, what did you really wish to achieve? truth was that Sukuna’s lack of interest in you only made you... needier, needy for at least some reassurance.

the curse is not foreign to how your skin heats under his big fingers, how your eyes shine uncharacteristically, this situation was not what you expected, but it will do.

“say it again, loud and clear” a low and deep rumble against your ear, keeping your back tightly pressed against his chest with an arm around your neck, mercilessly sliding that thick cock in and out of your soaked pussy.

“t—haaah, thank... you, l-lord Sukuna...!” you’re a mess, an utter mess of saliva and tears rolling down your face to soak his arm where your nails dig into for support, almost dizzy from the lack of air and the way Sukuna’s cock presses just beautifully against the firm spot inside your cunt.

the man didn’t expect for you to be so willing, but those cute eyes of yours, begging to get fucked, got the best of him. with all his hands on you, groping, squeezing nipples and ass, all wherever he can touch and angle your soft hips to take more and more of his cock inside, almost making it impossible for you to breathe from how deep it hits, thankful that his whole strength is keeping you up, balanced on your tiptoes or else you would have fallen long ago, now all you had to do was to take whatever he has left in store for you.

 𖤐 you are not Satoru’s student, but that does not mean he can’t have some fun with you.

you’re a bit too naive, aren’t you? sulking in silence at a bad grade, you’re grown, among the oldest students at Tokyo’s jujutsu tech, yet you’re in your own world, not even realizing it’s Satoru fucking up your student score.

call him a dick, whatever, you will never find out. and instead, come to his arms with a pout, asking for help to raise your grades.

a threat to stop giving you missions, or worse, sending you back home was more than enough to make you desperate.

you are so pretty when asking for help, something Satoru knew was not common, but now, you just need someone’s help, or at least some advice, and the mere thought that the white haired was your first option makes his cock throb.

“no matter what I do, it’s never enough for Yaga!” you poor thing, thinking you’re not good enough for your teacher, but Yaga is way too slow with technology as to realize your grades are strangely lower than they should, maybe he should not trust Satoru with them.

but it does not matter, because you let him touch you, you let him place you up his desk with such care you feel your face burning, setting between your thighs with kind and reassuring words, “Yaga is an idiot for not realizing how talented you are” Satoru’s voice is so low it’s almost a whisper that brushes past your ears, the same way his knuckles brush through your jawline and down your collarbone.

but you’re a sucker for those compliments, “do you believe so?” so cute, so pliant, with eyes twinkling and all.

“of course, angel...” he gauges in your reaction first, getting just a tiny squirm in return with breath hitching, “you are perfect”

it should not be a surprise to find you, merely minutes later, with his tongue down your throat and two knuckles deep into your squelching cunt, with his remaining hand squeezing your thighs and ass as if trying to leave prints of his fingers on your skin, making you ache so you remember him later.

your initial idea of seeking for help from Satoru all got drowned with his good the tips of his fingers dragged up and down your soaked walls, taking with him copious amounts of slick that just added onto the lewd sound, making a mess on the wood desk that squeaked just barely.

he’s just too good, and you’re so eager to cum that there’s not a coherent thought behind those eyes, glossy, staring in love at his own blue eyes while gushing cum all over his digits and palm.

[shrekshugebadussy]

so there’s this story that i had started to kinda put together back in my Episode days.. it wasn’t super thought out and was just kinda me trying to play around with getting used to the platform. but then i kinda started doing research for the story (zombie apocalypse centric) to make things more realistic & and then i kept imagining scenarios, and now i have notes upon notes & so many various small scenes for this story that i never actually planned to write 😭 and last night i wrote almost 5k words for a scenario i thought of… which is… a lot considering all this past year i’ve written 0 words towards a story 💀 so uh idk what that was about. but now im ready to kinda write some more so idfk