#and you fucks wanna replace that with a KISS?

[bapelana]

can u pls do toji w black reader and he’s putying her in a mean mating press and she can’t handle it and she’s just staring in bewilderment at how deep he’s inside her

IT started with a kiss—soft and slow, the kind he only gave you when the world was quiet.

his hand slid between your thick brown thighs, warm and firm, coaxing your legs apart with ease. you could still feel the imprint of his ring on your skin, the weight of it catching the moonlight as he gripped the back of your knee and pressed it toward your chest.

“you’re takin’ it all t’night, ma.” toji murmured, eyes locked on yours. “no runnin’, no cryin’. you married me, remember?”

you nodded, breath catching.

“uh-huh. so act like it.”

you didn’t know how you ended up like this—laid flat, legs pinned back, your plush body bent under the sheer force of him.

toji was deep inside you, thick, slow, and cruel about it.

your lips parted with a breathless gasp as his dick split you wide, already deep enough to steal the air from your lungs.

“t-toji—ooouhh—!” you sobbed, nails digging into his forearms.

“look at’chu,” he whispered, voice thick with smug heat. “so fffuckin’ full you can’t even think.”

he wasn’t lying. your brain felt like it was leaking out of your ears, all thought replaced with the sound of slick, the weight of him dragging in and out, and the pressure blooming in your gut every time his mean, thick n red tip kissed your cervix.

he was too big—always too big. every thrust forced your body to take more than it was built for.

“p-pa—c-cant,” you whimpered, vision blurred from tears.

he smirked. low and crazy.

“yeaah you can. you chose—fffuck—you made vows, mama. now keep fuckin’ takin’ it.”

your voice broke on a high moan, head thrown back as he fucked deeper into the spot that made your toes curl.

he didn’t slow down. didn’t let up. just kept you in that brutal mating press, thick and brown body folded and shaking, plush thighs trembling around his waist as he rolled his hips into yours without mercy.

“sooo f-ffuckin’ pretty like this,” he murmured. “cryin’ actin’ like youn like makin’ a mess on me.”

his words sent a shiver through you. your sweet walls fluttered, squeezing tight around him, and you sobbed again—louder this time.

“uh-uh, mama. don’t hide that face,” he said, grabbing your jaw. “lemme see that dumb lil smile. s’my faaaavorite part.”

you were smiling. delirious and overwhelmed, tears streaking down your cheeks, mascara smudged, lips trembling—but you were smiling.

“you’re fuckin’ gone,” he moaned, gaze darkening. “look at’chu. can’t even s-speak no more.”

“mmpf—toji, it’s—s’toooo much—feels too good—i-i can’t s-stop nutting—!”

and it was true. you were spasming around him, overstimulated beyond reason.

every thrust made your back arch and your breath hitch, your moans pitchy and broken. you were leaking all over him, slick dripping down your thick ass, pooling beneath your hips as he rutted into you without pause.

“yeaahhh, ma—n-nut again then,” he rasped. “make a mess on this fuckin’ dick. don’t stop ‘til you pass out.”

“f-ffuuckkk, oouhhh shhittt—pa—t-toji, m’—!”

you cried out, body seizing up as another orgasm crashed through you.

you couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. everything was heat and wetness and the heavy slap of his hips against yours, and you were shaking, writhing, unraveling beneath him.

“atta girl,” he murmured, voice higher as his rhythm started to falter.

“y’feel t-that? feel how this—hah!—pussy suckin’ me in? y’wan’ it in ya guts, huh?”

you nodded, incoherent, a trail of drool slipping down your lips as you moaned again.

your eyes trailed down to where you both were joined, and the sight was almost pornographic.

his dick stretched you out so much and you felt so full. a ring of cream spread around his shaft and he was glistening—your slick coated his abdomen and your own thighs.

“wan’ me t’fill this married pussy up?” he asked, his own eyes locked on the creamy mess you’d made between you. “wanna get bred, mama?”

“y-yessss, pleasepleaseplease—wan’ it all—wan’ you sooo bad—!” you gasped, sobbing now, your whole body twitching from how wrecked you were.

he cursed low, voice strained. “y’got it, mama.”

and then he was nutting—deep, hot, and heavy—dick twitching inside you as he filled you past your limit, his moans vibrating through your chest as he spilled into your sweet n pulsing pussy.

you cried out again, body collapsing into the sheets, fucked dumb and full, eyes fluttering from the weight of it.

“you took it all,” he whispered, finally letting you go limp, his weight settling over you as he kissed your temple. “that’s myyy nasty fffuckin’ wife.”

you blinked up at him, dazed, tears still slipping down your cheeks.

the only thing you could do was smile.

milf!reader & dilf!toji strikes againnnnnnnnuhhhh i should def make a post about their lore. thank u for this request mama ily! don’t b afraid to ask even more i gotchu <333

[immaqulate]

we'll show you, baby | m.s & c.s

— chratt x fem! reader

— warnings: smut, inexperienced! reader, oral and fingering (f receiving), consensual intensity, language (f-bombs, filthy talk, explicit praise), overstimulation (light), mentions of crying out/moaning, 2nd person pov

You’ve never come before. They take that personally.

word count: 745

You’ve tried. You’ve touched yourself in the dark. Watched videos, read stories, felt your breath catch just before something almost happened. But nothing ever did.

And now? You’re on Matt’s couch, sandwiched between him and Chris, staring down at your lap with your face burning as you whisper the truth:

“I’ve… never finished. Like, not even on my own.”

The silence hits first. Heavy and electric. Matt’s brows lift like he’s not sure he heard you right, and Chris—sweet, observant Chris—just blinks.

“Wait,” Matt says, voice dark with curiosity. “Never?”

You shake your head, already trying to backtrack, but Chris’s hand touches your thigh.

“You’ve never come?” he asks gently. “At all?”

Your voice is smaller now. “I’ve tried. I just… can’t. It never works.”

That’s all it takes.

Matt leans forward like a wolf catching scent, his palm sliding up the inside of your thigh.

“That’s a fucking crime.”

Chris exhales behind you, his lips ghosting your neck.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea what you just said to us?”

You don’t.. not fully, but you’re about to learn.

Matt’s already pulling your legs across his lap while Chris moves in behind you on the couch, caging you in like a warm wall of muscle and breath.

“You trust us?” Chris murmurs against your ear.

“Yes.”

“Good,” Matt whispers, eyes locked on yours. “Because we’re gonna teach you how to come. Right here. Right now.”

You swallow hard as Chris’s fingers slip beneath your shirt, trailing up your sides, brushing your bra. Matt’s thumbs hook into your waistband, tugging gently.

“Off,” he says. “We wanna see you.”

You let them undress you—slow, reverent. Like they’re unwrapping something sacred. Matt eases your shorts and underwear down your legs, biting his lip as your pussy’s exposed. Chris slides your bra off from behind, kissing the curve of your shoulder.

Then you’re bare—sprawled across the couch between them—and they both pause.

Like they’re taking a moment, memorizing your every curve.

“Fucking perfect,” Matt mutters, hand already sliding between your thighs. “Gonna fall apart so pretty for us, huh?”

Chris’s hand moves to your chest, massaging softly as he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

“You’re safe,” he whispers. “Just let go. We’ll take care of you.”

Matt’s fingers trace your slit—just once—and you jolt. Sensitive. Way more than you realized.

“Shit,” he groans, rubbing slow circles over your clit with two fingers. “She’s already soaked. And we haven’t even started.”

“She’s been holding it in for years,” Chris murmurs. “That body’s begging for release.”

They go slow. Matt keeps stroking your clit—light, teasing circles—while Chris holds you steady, grounding you with kisses and soft praise.

“That feel good, baby?”

“You like Matt’s fingers on you?”

“Breathe. Just breathe.”

You’re panting, thighs trembling, hips bucking without permission.

And Matt? He’s grinning like a devil. Like he knows.

“Already squirming?” he purrs. “This is just the warm-up.”

Then his mouth replaces his fingers.

You cry out, not expecting the heat of his tongue—flat, slow, relentless—lapping at your clit like he owns it. He groans against you like you taste better than anything he’s ever had.

Chris wraps a hand around your jaw, keeping your head turned toward him.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he whispers. “I want to see you when it happens.”

Matt adds a finger—then two—sliding them inside, curling them perfectly as he sucks harder.

“Fuck—Chris, she’s clenching,” he groans, eyes dark. “She’s close. She doesn’t even know what to do with it.”

“Let go,” Chris whispers. “Don’t fight it. Don’t hold it in.”

Your thighs are shaking. Your belly’s tight. The coil is right there—

“That’s it,” Matt growls, mouth wet, fingers pounding you slow and deep. “Come for us, pretty girl. Come all over my mouth.”

You break.

The orgasm hits like a wave crashing over your skin, stealing your breath, locking your muscles. You scream, back arching, legs spasming as Matt keeps going—working you through it like he’s fucking proud.

Chris holds your face in his hands, kissing your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“That’s it. That’s our girl.”

It takes a while to come back to yourself.

You’re trembling, boneless, soaked. Matt kisses up your thigh as Chris gently strokes your hair.

“You okay, baby?” Chris asks softly.

You nod, still dazed. “That was… fuck.”

Matt smirks. “Yeah, that was one.”

Your eyes widen.

“What?”

Chris laughs, low and warm.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “We’re not even close to done.”

click here to be added to my taglist and here for masterlist <3

taglist 1 ✎ @chrisissobabygirl @sturnzwrld @strnilolover @sweetshuga @mattslilies @sirensdollesque @slxtarchive @heartsonlyforchris @sturns-mermaid @bluessturniolo @pasteldreams @endereies @solarsturniolo @drewswife @conspiracy-ash @courta13 @ivytthew @blushsturns @surprisecurlyfriess @mazzystarrysky @eclipsturns @riasturns @mattsgirl4ever @elisesturnz @ribbonlovergirl @chrisslut04 @pair-of-pantaloons @obxfansstuff @poppetbaby02 @bgfshai @kalel2005 @sturniszn @leahfaith @rafespuppyy

[formulafanfics13]

could we get a fic with oscar where, for what ever reason idk, the reader forces osc to watch her masturbate (myb with toys too), after some time he freaks out and they go on for hours, reader gets overstimulated..

you may even include other drivers hearing them have sex and sending oscar messages so oscar is like let’s give them something to hear

Sweet Obsession - OP81 🔥

Masterlist

SUMMARY A night in a hotel turns feral when Oscar Piastri watches the reader pleasure herself before taking over completely. What starts as a teasing power game escalates into loud, possessive, multi-orgasmic sex — loud enough for the entire F1 driver group chat to beg them to stop. Oscar refuses.

WARNINGS Explicit sexual content, public disturbance, voyeurism, masturbation, orgasm control, overstimulation, dominance, mild breathplay, degradation kink, praise kink, rough sex, exhibitionism, group chat commentary, possessiveness, unprotected sex, excessive loudness, light humiliation.

It starts as a game. You’re on the hotel bed in nothing but his t-shirt. Legs spread. A toy buzzing between your thighs. Oscar is in the chair by the window, watching. Silent.

That’s what you agreed to. He wanted to see. All of it. “Don’t stop,” he says quietly, voice already low and tight.

Your hand shakes. You rub the toy a little harder. It’s soaked already. Slipping. You’re not even trying to be quiet. Soft whines. Breathless moans.

“Osc,” you whisper. “Please.”

He adjusts himself in the chair. His cock straining under grey sweats. He doesn’t touch it. Not yet. “Look at me when you come,” he says.

So you do. Eyes locked. Legs twitching. Body arching. You cry out, loud, as the orgasm rips through you.

He watches your thighs shake. Watches the slick coat your hand. Still doesn’t move. “Again.”

You blink. “What?”

His voice is firm. “Again. Use your fingers this time.”

You whimper. “Oscar-”

“You wanted to play. Now show me how bad you want it.”

So you do. Fingers slippery, sliding in deep. Moaning louder now. He watches. Watches like he’s memorising. Like he’s building a library of every sound you make. By the second orgasm, your body is shaking. By the third, you’re crying. “Please. I need you.”

Oscar stands slowly. Walks to the bed. He kisses you like he’s starving. Fingers immediately replacing yours.

“Such a greedy little thing,” he mutters. “So desperate. So messy.”

He pushes two fingers in. Then three.

“You like when I watch?”

You nod. He growls. “You’re gonna take me now.”

He fucks you like he’s been waiting all week. Slow at first. Deep. Then brutal. Rhythmic. The headboard slams. Your voice is wrecked.

You don’t know how many times you come. You lose track after five. Every time you whimper that it’s too much, he kisses you hard and says, “One more. You can give me one more.”

You give him everything. Until your whole body is shaking. Until the walls feel like they’re moving.

Until... There’s a knock. Then a voice.

Lando.

“Mate. You good? The walls aren’t soundproof, you know.”

Oscar pauses. Smiles darkly. Then his phone buzzes. Groupchat.

DRIVER CHAT Lando: tell her to breathe Yuki: bro Pierre: are you killing her or marrying her Charles: pls god stop George: she said “oscar” like twelve times. i counted. Liam: she moaned your name like a national anthem

Oscar laughs softly. Looks down at you. “Wanna give them something to hear?”

You nod. Fucked-out. Eyes glossy. Voice gone. So he flips you. Fucks you face-down. Harder. Louder. One hand on your throat. You scream for him. Cry for him. Come again and again until your body is boneless.

The headboard is dented. The sheets are ruined. Someone knocks again.

Lewis: we are BEGGING you to stop. this is your second hour.

Oscar just smiles. And fucks you harder.

“Let them hear,” he whispers. “You’re mine.”

You sob his name. And he doesn’t stop. Not until you’re gone. Utterly, fully, breathtakingly destroyed.

[steddieas-shegoes]

drama

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'selling the drama'

rated t | 769 words | no cw | tags: band manager steve, friendship, established steddie

also on ao3

🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱

Gareth rolls onto his stomach and sighs.

Jeff does the same.

Eddie, somehow, is the one who calls them out.

“Are you guys done being dramatic?”

Frankie rolls his eyes, smirking at what he already knows is going to become a dramatic soliloquy from one or both of them. Eddie’s almost certainly going to join in despite the fact he called them out on the dramatics.

“Sorry for being bored, Edward!” Gareth exclaims. “Sorry that we cannot find any entertainment on this tour bus. I’m sorry you have to put up with us in this phase of our lives. How dare we feel boredom in your presence. How dare we not know what we want to do while stuck on this dreaded twelve hour drive. How-”

“How about you all play cards?” Steve suggests with a lollipop hanging from his mouth. He’s trying to quit smoking and so far only lollipops seem to be a good replacement. His lips and tongue are constantly red or blue and Eddie is constantly distracted. “I’ll move.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Eddie says, pulling Steve into his lap. Steve offers him his lollipop, but Eddie just kisses his lips instead. No one blinks an eye. It’s not even close to the grossest thing they’ve done in front of them. Frankie’s actually pretty sure they’ve fucked on the couch while they were all watching a movie. “I don’t wanna play cards. We did that yesterday.”

“Today’s a new day,” Frankie says as he gets up to get their deck of cards. They are technically due for another campaign night, but Eddie’s having trouble with some of the plot development and refuses to move forward until he figures it out. “We could play war or hearts?”

“Children’s games,” Jeff sighs. “We aren’t children.”

“You’re acting like children,” Steve says what Frankie’s thinking.

He used to hate that he had so much in common with Steve, especially when he started dating Eddie and he was around all the time. They didn’t get along for months until Frankie got his heart broken in a city he’d never been to before and Steve was the only one who didn’t make fun of him for being upset. He brought him to a 24 hour diner after their show while everyone else went to their hotel and they talked about expectations on the road and for the future. Now they make it a weekly thing, whenever they’re in a city that has a diner they can go to reasonably unnoticed, they do.

“Last time we played war, Eddie almost threw Gareth off the bus,” Jeff says.

Which is true, and probably why they shouldn’t play that game while in motion.

“Go Fish?” Steve suggests, still sucking on the lollipop.

Eddie’s watching him, mouth open, eyes glazed over. Gareth smacks him in the face.

“Focus dude,” he says. “Can we place bets?”

“On Go Fish?” Frankie asks.

“To make it more fun.”

He shares a look with Steve. They both know this is a terrible idea, but if it will end the dramatics of their boredom, it might be worth it.

“Fine. No booze or girls.” Steve points at Gareth to emphasize. “And that includes whatever underwear gets left behind during your little sexual exploration phase.”

“Whatever,” Gareth rolls his eyes. “Bet $10 I win the first round in three turns.”

“I’ll bet $20 I win in two,” Jeff pipes in.

“I’ll bet use of the big bed for one night I win in three right before Gareth would’ve gone out,” Eddie says.

Steve slaps him. “Don’t offer our bed.”

“Two nights in the big bed!” Eddie ignores him.

Frankie shakes his head. “One pack of cigs and my signed Metallica poster says I win in four rounds and you all get mad enough to stop playing.”

Steve high-fives him.

Frankie doesn’t even smoke, never has, never will, but they’ll all be miserable if Steve doesn’t get to sleep in his bed. Now no one will want to beat him. He’ll grab a pack from Steve’s secret emergency stash.

They end up being distracted by more absurd bets for the next two hours. Steve eventually loses interest and goes to find another lollipop and take a nap because his job starts the moment they arrive at the venue.

Well, technically his job never really stops, which is why he’s never really bored.

Frankie watches him walk back to his bed, closing the curtain behind him. It won’t mask much of the noise, but he won’t have to witness the dramatic slap fight happening between Gareth and Eddie with his eyes.

[avocado-writing]

91 & 94 combo! I need more soft creature V 🫶🏻🖤🖤

91. “How do you want me to touch you?”

94. Whispered praises against the other’s lips which are met with soft whimpers and moans.

gn!reader x trans!perpetua 😌

His hands are trembling as he comes to trace the shape of your chest, terrified his claws will render flesh from skin. As if your Pet could ever hurt you.

You cannot blame a creature for being a creature. Perpetua has tried so hard to acclimate to humanity for you, even though you never asked him to. Ever the gentleman: holding doors open for you, pulling out a chair at dinner, dropping to all fours in order to chase away anyone he thought was being threatening.

You had assured him that last one was unneeded. You appreciated the gesture anyway.

Still, this is the first night you’ve invited him over the threshold, all long tangling limbs and piercing eyes, caressing claws and teasing fangs. His nervousness is evident.

“H…how do you want me to touch you?” he manages, in awe of your naked beauty. He is a sight himself, pale in the starlight which sinks in through the window, scars on his chest each a beautiful crescent moon.

You take his hand and drag it lower, between your legs.

“Like this, Pet. Stroke me like this…”

He is so careful not to nick you with his claws as he picks up your pace, replacing your own fingers. You sigh and roll your head back as he finds what makes you respond best. He looks thrilled at the reaction he can eke from you.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so well…” you whisper, reaching to kiss him, wrapping him in your arms. “Wanna fuck you all the time, have you make me feel this good… gonna come, Pet… you’re gonna make me come…”

He whimpers in delight against your lips, watching in rapt adoration as you ride your orgasm out on his palm. You kiss him again, pushing him back onto the bed so you can pin him.

“Let me return the favour…” you whisper, hooking one of his legs over your shoulder, and start your journey downwards.

[joongxhwa]

Just For Me

✮ Pairing: Roomate!Ten x fem reader

✮ Words: 3.2K

✮ Genre: Smut

✮ Warnings: 18+, masturbation, toy use, dom!Ten, fingering, oral (f receiving), light degradation, possessiveness, overstimulation, choking, cum control...

You thought he was gone for the night.

Ten had a dance shoot. Said he’d be back late. You even checked the clock twice before pressing play on the video you’d been saving, the one you only watched when you were really worked up.

It didn’t take long.

One hand between your thighs, your favorite toy buzzing against your clit, the other gripping the sheets as your legs slowly opened wider, breath catching with every flick of your wrist. The low moans coming from your laptop weren’t helping either, especially with the way your imagination twisted the male voice into his.

Ten’s voice.

The way he’d say your name, low and sharp. The way he’d order you to keep going, keep taking it. Your back arched and your eyes rolled shut. You didn’t hear the door open. Or hear his footsteps.

You didn’t hear a damn thing until you felt it. The slow, deliberate drag of fingers down your calf, followed by a voice that made your soul leave your body.

“Cute little show you’re putting on for no one.”

You screamed and sat up, yanking the blanket over your chest in a panic.

“Ten?!”

He was leaning casually against your bedframe, all black sweats, messy hair, and that fucking smirk.

“Hi.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your… session or whatever.”

“You literally said you would be gone a while”

“Well I did, buttt it ended early.” He tilted his head, watching you squirm. “Guess I got home just in time.”

You blinked, still frozen. His gaze dropped down to where the toy was still buzzing weakly under the covers.

“You just gonna sit there or are you gonna let me help?” he asked, eyes burning. “Or should I go back out and pretend I didn’t hear you moaning my name?”

Your heart stopped.

“ Uh I don't know what you're talking about!”

“Sure you don't,” he said simply, stepping closer. “You think I don’t know how you sound when you’re turned on? I hear it every time you shower.”

You gasped, scandalized. “You listen—?!”

“I hear, baby,” he corrected, kneeling on the bed. “And right now… I wanna see.”

You didn’t stop him when he slid the blanket down. Didn’t stop him when he dragged your legs apart with no hesitation, eyes locked on the slick mess between your thighs. “Damn,” he muttered, licking his lips. “You really did all this without me?”

He plucked the toy from your hand and turned it off. “Poor baby. Using this tiny thing when I’m literally right across the hall?” Your mouth opened to protest, but Ten cut you off with a kiss. Rough, possessive, all tongue and hunger.

“Don’t you ever touch yourself without me again,” he whispered against your lips. “If you’re needy, you call me.” He pushed two fingers into you without warning, and you screamed into his mouth.

“There it is,” he growled. “That sound I fucking love.”

His pace was unrelenting, fingers curling, thumb circling your clit in a way the toy never could. You gripped his wrist, eyes wide, already too close.

“Ten—”

“No,” he snapped. “Not yet.”

He pulled out just as your thighs started shaking. You nearly cried.

“You cum when I tell you to,” he said. “Not when you want to.”

He shoved the toy back in your hand.

“Show me how you were doing it.”

You stared.

“W- what? You can't be serious.”

“You heard me. Touch yourself. Let me see how pathetic you look trying to get off without me.”

You obeyed. Breath trembling, hand shaking as you pressed the toy against your clit again. It didn’t feel the same anymore though, not under his gaze. Not when he was staring you down like prey, his own hand palming his erection through his sweats.

“Good girl,” he murmured, stroking himself slowly. “So pretty like this. But let me show you how it’s really done.”

In one smooth move, Ten replaced the toy with his mouth. Tongue flat, fingers rough, pace unforgiving. He licked through you like he was starved, lips wrapped around your clit as he shoved two fingers back inside you and curled hard.

You nearly sobbed.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice muffled against your cunt. “So fucking sweet. Taste yourself, baby.”

He kissed you again, forcing his tongue into your mouth while his fingers never stopped. The filthy mix of yourself and his spit had you clenching down hard.

“Cum,” he ordered. “Now.”

And you did.

Legs locked around his head, body convulsing, fingers tangled in his hair as you screamed his name over and over again. But he didn’t stop.

“Another one.”

“Ten- please—!”

“No. You don't get to tell me you’re done.”

He moved back up your body, hand gripping your throat lightly as he fucked you with his fingers again.

“You touch yourself thinking about me?”

“You fantasize about choking on my cock? Taking it all like a good little slut?”

You nodded, moaning louder than you should have.

“Then take this too.”

You came again. Harder, messier, tears spilling from your eyes as he whispered praise between every thrust.

“So good for me.”

“So fucking perfect.”

When he finally pulled away, you were limp, shaking, drenched in sweat and slick. He kissed your forehead like he hadn’t just ruined you.

“Next time you’re horny,” he whispered, licking his fingers clean, “don’t use that toy.”

He dropped it next to you, smirking.

“Just come to my room or call me.”

[icecream-and-gadreel]

Don't get me wrong, I love me some "plain text" gay content as much as the next guy, but there's nothing like that deep, deep subtext pining that allows you to explore the 'what ifs' on your own.

Of course Destiel immediately comes to mind because the fucking longing was RIGHT there

But also Hannibal, gay as shit. Longing so deep that it felt palpable. House. Wilson and Dr. House were just insanely, toxically attached at the hip and just w a n t e d. Psych. Gay gay gay.

[anglbunny]

Safe word ♡ ryomen sukuna

cw: smut mdni, use of safe word, soft sukuna, based on this request

You’re not sure how long he’s been fucking you. Time’s gone blurry—melted into moans and muscle spasms, fingers digging into sheets, your body arching under his like instinct.

You're soaking wet. Wrung out. Shaking. And still, Sukuna doesn't stop.

"Look at you," he pants, watching the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust. "All fucked dumb and you’re still takin' it like a good little slut."

Your mouth drops open—another moan spilling out, high and wrecked. Your thighs tremble on either side of his hips, limp now from being held up so long. You can barely move.

But you love it. Every second.

You were made to be spoiled like this. A princess, built to be touched, worshipped, ruined.

He presses his palm over your belly, smirking when he feels the outline of his cock moving inside.

“Such a perfect fucking body,” he growls. “Takes me so well. You were made for this, weren’t you? All mine.”

You nod. Nodding feels easier than speaking.

Your body jerks with the rhythm of his thrusts. Your wrists are pinned above your head. His other hand is tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your eyes water.

But suddenly—it’s too much.

The moment creeps up fast. You’ve come too many times. Your body can’t handle more.

Your lips move without thinking—

“Rose.”

Your safeword.

Sukuna freezes.

Immediately.

Silence.

His hands loosen. His hips pull back. The feral, dominant glint in his eyes is gone in an instant—replaced by something soft. Something vulnerable.

"Shit—hey, hey." His voice lowers, gentle. Concern slipping into every syllable. “You okay, sweetheart? Look at me.”

You blink up at him. Overwhelmed, but safe. Still gasping.

“I-I’m okay. Just… needed to stop.”

His hands are already moving. Untying your wrists. Stroking your cheeks. His lips kiss your forehead, then your shoulder, then your temple.

"Good girl,” he whispers. “You did so good telling me. So proud of you.”

He grabs a blanket, covers you up, and lies beside you—pulling you against his chest like you're made of glass.

His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“You were perfect. You’re always perfect. I got you now, yeah? Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nod into his neck, tears slipping down your cheeks—not from pain, but from how held you feel.

Sukuna holds you tighter.

“Next time,” he says quietly, brushing your hair back, “we take it slow. I wanna hear those pretty sounds without hurting you. You’re too precious to me, baby.”

You manage a soft smile.

Because no matter how hard he goes—he always brings you back. Always holds you after.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: bleh

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[megumismyhusband]

it was no secret that isagi yoichi was a beast on the field. his teammates knew it, his opponents feared it—but somehow, it had been a well-kept secret from you.

you’d always known isagi as your sweet, gentle boyfriend—the one who blushed when you complimented him, the one who held your hand like it was something precious, the one who stammered out shy confessions like he hadn’t already stolen your heart. so, when you decided to surprise him at practice, you expected that same isagi.

what you didn’t expect was this.

“are you fuckin’ kidding me?!” isagi’s voice rang out across the field, sharp and unforgiving. your eyes widened as you watched him glare at one of his teammates, his hands thrown up in exasperation. “what the hell was that pass supposed to be?! you trying to hand them the damn game? fuckin’ idiot, i’m gonna kill you!”

you froze.

this wasn’t the soft-spoken isagi who got flustered when you kissed his cheek. this was someone else entirely—someone whose presence dominated the field, whose intensity crackled in the air like a storm. he was pacing, his jaw clenched, his tone nothing short of ruthless.

“you wanna play like that? you might as well quit! i’m not babysitting your lazy ass out here!” his voice was fierce, relentless. “jesus christ, do you even care about winning, or are you just here to waste everyone’s goddamn time?! fucking useless!”

you didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed.

the isagi in front of you was nothing like the one who shyly asked if you wanted to share his scarf on cold mornings. this isagi was a leader, a competitor, a force of nature that refused to accept anything less than victory. and damn, was it hot.

then, as if sensing your presence, isagi’s head suddenly snapped toward you. his sharp glare vanished instantly, replaced by wide eyes and a deep red blush creeping up his neck.

“u-uh…” he swallowed hard, visibly panicking. “you saw that?”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “oh, i definitely saw that.”

isagi rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “i-it’s just… the game, you know?”

you hummed, stepping closer until you could see the lingering frustration in his eyes—frustration that quickly melted when you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“i think i like both versions of you,” you teased, watching as his face turned impossibly red.

“…oh my god,” he muttered, covering his face with his hands. “you’re never letting this go, are you?”

you grinned. “not a chance.

[kaluawoo]

I feel like feelings are inherently hard to describe without talking around them (like describing sadness as "It's when you want to cry" - you can cry from a ton of reasons and you can be sad without crying). And romantic attraction especially is something so very personal. I could describe how it's for Me, Personally, but other people will be different.

If you get down to it, its defining characteristic is "it feels like romantic attraction". Which helps absolutely no one, so people try to talk around it. For me, I tend to explain it as "if friendship feels like earth and water then romantic attraction feels like wind and fire" which sounds weird and esoteric. It's a feeling of affection that feels kinda Lighter than platonic. Notably, not stronger - A candle is not stronger than a mountain. Just different.

it really does bother me how no one can seem to answer the question “what even is romantic attraction, really.” like some people are like “it’s who you wanna kiss and cuddle <3” and I’m like ok well kisses and cuddles can be either sexual or platonic depending on context. “It’s who you feel passion/desire/arousal for” well that just sounds like sexual attraction which you can have without even knowing somebody so I fail to see how that’s romantic. “It’s who you want to go on dates with” I go on dates with friends all the time plus “date” is a social construct anyway there’s really no innate difference between a date and hanging out. “it’s who you have deep feelings for” great news for you that can be literally any type of relationship. my friend told me she defined it as “who you wanna give roses to” and I’m like do u hear urself??? like the more I talk to people the more I’m convinced romance and romantic attraction is an elaborate socially fabricated illusion that has no real defining characteristics. and like there’s nothing Wrong with it being a constuct but why people are so attached to defending the supremacy of it is something I cannot for the life of me figure out

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your older boyfriend, satoru, shows you just how much he adores you in his private office <3

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x virgin!female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). smut, pwp. fīngering. multiple ōrgàsms; overstimulation. mention of corruption kink. dry hūmping. nicknames ‘princess, baby, beautiful’. pls ignore any grammar errors xx

“heh, don’t look at me. look at yourself, princess,” satoru chuckles, easily noticing how your head is tilted in attempt to watch him as he gets you off. you’re sitting on his thighs with your legs spread, shamelessly allowing him to finger you in his office.

your shaky eyes dart down to your dripping cunt—clearly seeing how it’s got a mind of its own. it’s squeezing satoru’s long fingers as he moves them in the speed of light. your limbs are shaking by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving.

“the-the door,” you hiccup. you hadn’t locked the door behind you when you walked into satoru’s office. you definitely wouldn’t want any of his colleagues to walk in on you. though, that didn’t seem to worry your boyfriend. all he’s focusing on at the moment is your perfect pussy taking in his middle and ring finger.

satoru’s glossy lips are parted and covered in spit. he has to lick up the drool from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t dirty your opened blouse. he’s quite literally salivating at the sight and feeling of your warm cunt. . .

“the others ‘re busy, they won’t come in as long as you keep your pretty voice down,” satoru promises you in a smooth tone, blue eyes wide with fascination as he stares down at your pussy.

he’s always imagined what it’d be like to be inside of you. what it would feel like to hold you in his arms and make love to you without holding himself back— to show you a world you have yet to discover.

satoru wants to be the first one to do that, though he’ll wait until you’re ready. for now, he’s completely satisfied with just a taste of heaven.

“fuck, baby, she’s beautiful,” satoru praises your delicate pussy. your wet folds continue to make way for more of his fingers, spreading as he tries to enter a third digit into your poor, clingy hole. you whine as you feel satoru prepare you by rubbing your clit repeatedly with his thumb—trying to make you as wet for him as you possibly could be.

you shake your head, “can’t take more, ‘toru.” it genuinely feels like you’re being stretched out. three fingers are going to take you out. “nuh-uh,” satoru mocks you before telling you to look at him. the moment you do, his lips envelop yours in a lustful yet comforting kiss. you moan into his mouth and he does the same back, eyebrows furrowing because of how good it feels to suck on your tongue.

his fingers don’t stop. the third slides in and you jolt back against satoru’s chest. “shh, shh, i got you,” the older man attempts to calm you down. he stops fingering you for a second so you could adjust to the stretch. you’re tight—he can feel his erect cock twitching in his pants, begging to replace his fingers. he can’t, not yet.

satoru cusses under his breath once he feels your ass rub against the bulge in his uniform’s pants. you’re killing him and you don’t even realise it because you’re too focused on his fingers fucking your cunt. shlick shlick shlick — you’re dripping wet.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper through a soft gasp. it would be your third orgasm. you’re sensitive and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. your lower abdomen is tingling and aching. you’re going to inevitably squirt all over his chair, again.

satoru bites his lip as he hears you announce how close you are. his long fingers are already soaked with your juices, coating them with a sticky layer that he cannot wait to taste. “do it, baby. wanna see you cum,” your boyfriend coos.

satoru loves the way your hips circle back to him, rubbing against his groin. you’re driving him insane without even knowing it. he curls his fingers inside you, thumb still circling your clit for extra stimulation. you’re being driven to the edge of insanity.

he bucks his hips a little each time you involuntarily move in his lap. “toruuu, fnnh, so close,” you’re not only moaning because of the fingers inside of you, but also because of the hard bulge rubbing against and between your ass cheeks.

satoru knows your voice can easily carry over to the next room. you’re usually loud when you finish on his fingers. he takes his free hand and pushes your head back against his shoulder, his index and middle finger sliding into your mouth to silence you.

your whimpers are muffled as you automatically start sucking on his digits. satoru kisses your ear and jawline, whispering small words of praise against your skin because of your obedience. “keep it down for me, beautiful. y’re already doing so well.”

your eyes roll back as your saliva dribbles down his left hand. the wet trail runs down his veiny arm that’s exposed to your view. you love it when satoru pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows—it reminds you of why everyone fawns over him. it’s hot.

you’re trying to hold out, not wanting to cum. you wish to stay like this, with satoru’s fingers deep in your cunt and mouth, his bulge grinding against the fat of your ass.

the white-haired man instantly notices this and chuckles to himself; you’re fighting a losing battle. he increases the pace, his wrist working over time so his fingers could reach those sweet spots in your velvety walls. he decides to rile you up some more;

“shiit, just imagine that ‘ts my cock stretching your pretty cunt out,” satoru grins against your ear. he knows you’re weak for dirty talk. you have never felt what it’s like to be stuffed full of a dick, and thus the imagination adds to the raunchiness of it all.

you shiver and let out a small moan escape your mouth before you continue to suck on satoru’s fingers. all this time you’ve settled for make out sessions, grinding and oral pleasure. you’re needy for more than that.

satoru knows what buttons to push. he knows how to make you melt and give in to him and his words. he bites your earlobe after letting his tongue lick the skin, “all filled up to the brim. you’d like that, huh?”

you barely managed to stifle a loud whine at that. your eyes widen and your pussy spasms around his fingers. you know it’s not long before you’re going to cream all over satoru’s hand.

sweat trickles down your forehead.

“yes, yes, yes!” you moan repeatedly, voice muffled by the fingers in your mouth. you can hear your boyfriend grunt into your ear after seeing how enthusiastically you’re responding. he’s totally getting off to you’re desperation.

satoru wants to cum so bad. he wants to shoot ropes of his cum in the pussy he’s prepping to one day take his dick.

you see black spots in your vision because of how hard the climax hits you. your breath hitches and you grip onto the armrests of the chair for support. a spray of clear and watery juices covers satoru’s entire hand and bits of his arm—evidence of just how much you enjoyed your little session with him.

the older man pats your tummy and rubs it, comforting you as the aftershocks of your climax hit. he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt and brings them up to his glossy lips, thoroughly licking every drop off. his dick pulses in his pants at the delicious taste.

you’re panting as you try to get your thighs to stop shaking. you’re out of energy, drained. all that you hear replaying in your mind is satoru’s dirty talk. you don’t know if you can handle his dick if you’re already overwhelmed by the way he skilfully uses his fingers.

as if sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend smirks and hugs your body tightly to his chest.

“can’t give it t’ ya now,” satoru whispers and pouts, teasing you as if to turn you on again. he takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and presses his lips against yours as a promise, “but one day i will, yeah? one day i’ll fuck ya so good you’ll only know my name.”

[dynaboomboom]

thinking about grumpy bf! katsuki being annoyed after work

you were on the couch watching your favorite show while munching on some chips. your eyes were glued to the tv as the main character was finally piecing together the crime they were solving.

you were leaned closer to the tv in anticipation until your body jumped in shock as your boyfriend barged into the front door of your shared apartment.

“shit babe, you almost gave me a heart attack!” you whined, bringing your attention back to the tv.

“how was work today?” you asked, still intently reading the subtitles of the show.

katsuki gave no response. all you heard were his frustrated grunts as he removed his shoes and stomped his way to the bathroom.

you paid no mind to it for the time being, but made a mental note to ask katsuki about it later on.

a few minutes later katsuki finally made his way out of your bedroom wearing his favorite black skull shirt and some gray sweats. a small towel was placed around his neck, his hair still a bit damp.

he stomped his way to the couch and sat beside you.

“hi baby, how was your day?” you gave him a quick smile, lifting your arm up the backrest of the couch.

his brows were still very much knitted together, but he took your gesture as the chance to snuggle into you. the moment his head made contact with your body, he let out a deep sigh.

“fucking tiring”

his previously grumpy demeanor was replaced with drowsiness to the point that you could feel the exhaustion from his voice.

“aww baby, you wanna talk about it?” you looked at him with worry as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving his scalp a soft massage.

“can i just lay here for a bit?” he asked as he snuggled closer into you, the heat of his body keeping you warm.

“not a problem” you answered as you gave him a kiss on his forehead.

you continued to massage his scalp while watching your show and before you knew it, katsuki was already snoring in your arms.

🖇️ : just wanna say thanks to everyone who liked my first fic! cant believe it has more than 1k like already!! alsoooo, happy 100 followssss! anyway, i hope u guys like this one. a bit different from my first post, but i told yall im capable of soft wholesome thoughts too 🙂‍↕️

[dykebehaviour]

okay, so, uh… how do i put this on?

loser lesbian!ellie strapping you for the first time

cw: smut, first time strap on sex r!receiving, established relationship, top!ellie, bottom!reader, awkward but sweet.

you weren’t expecting ellie to be this nervous.

scratch that, you were.

you were absolutely expecting her to be exactly this nervous.

she’s standing at the edge of your bed in a worn nasa t-shirt and boxers, holding the strap-on like it’s a piece of alien technology. it’s still in the black drawstring pouch it came in, which she has half-unzipped and is now peering into like she’s expecting it to bite her.

“i feel like this thing should come with a manual,” she mumbles, scratching the back of her neck. her ears are flushed, the tips glowing pink, and she looks anywhere but at you, despite the fact that you’re sitting in front of her, already half-naked and very ready.

you smile, biting your lip. “you watched, like, twelve youtube reviews on this, ellie.”

“yeah, well, they didn’t show this part!” she whisper-yells, motioning dramatically to the strap. “they just talked about, like, material and suction and… girth.”

that last word makes her physically recoil, like it personally offended her.

you laugh; genuine, warm, and scoot to the edge of the bed, reaching out for the harness. “here. gimme.”

she hesitates, then hands it over, still not making eye contact. “sorry. i just… i wanna do this right. i wanna make it good for you.”

your heart actually aches a little at that. she’s trying so hard. so ellie about it - awkward and earnest and somehow both endearing and annoying at the same time.

you kiss her, gentle and slow, a hand coming up to cradle her jaw. “hey. it will be good. you’re here. i’m here. and you-“ you grab the harness again, smirking. “-are about to become a total menace.”

“oh my god,” she groans, burying her face in your neck. “don’t say it like that. i can’t feel cool when you say it like that.”

“you’ve never been cool a day in your life.”

she pulls back just enough to look at you, squinting. “rude.”

“true.”

you both break into quiet laughter. the kind that fills the room in the spaces where nerves used to be.

ellie takes a deep breath, steadies herself. “okay. i’m doin’ it.”

and she does - clumsily at first, buckling it backward the first time and swearing under her breath, but eventually getting it on, adjusting the straps with all the seriousness of someone gearing up for battle. she looks down at herself once it’s on, eyes wide.

“…huh.”

you tilt your head. “you okay?”

“i don’t know. i feel like i should salute someone.”

you snort. “please don’t.”

“i feel like i should have, like, a badge. or a license.”

“ellie.”

“I HAVE THE POWER.”

you grab her hand and pull her onto the bed before she can spiral any further. “c’mere, soldier.”

the laughter dies down slowly, replaced by the kind of silence that hums with electricity. she’s looking at you now, really looking. her eyes go soft, mouth parted slightly like she’s about to say something and forgot how.

you touch her cheek. “you good?”

she nods. “yeah. yeah, i just… this is kind of a big deal, huh?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “it is.”

she kisses you again. slower this time. more deliberate. her hands are on your waist, your thigh, your hip. she moves with more purpose now, like something has clicked into place. the jokes are gone, replaced by a tenderness that makes your chest ache in a different way.

“god, you’re so-fuck, you’re soft,” she breathes, dragging her hand down your side, over your hip, between your legs. “can i?”

you nod, already breathless. “yes. please.”

she touches you first - fingers sliding slowly through wetness, testing how ready you are, and her eyes go wide.

“holy shit. that’s for me?”

“no, it’s for the pope.”

“shut up,” she laughs, and then her mouth is on your neck, your collarbone, nipping and kissing a trail lower. her hand never leaves you.

“tell me if anything feels weird, okay?” she says softly.

“ellie.”

she meets your gaze.

“i want you.”

her expression melts - turns open and overwhelmed, like she’s never been told that before, even though you say it all the time.

she lines up carefully, letting the tip brush against you first, back and forth in teasing little strokes that make you shift your hips with a whine.

“okay?” she checks again.

you nod, gripping her arm. “yes. i’m good.”

she presses in slowly. not all the way at once, just enough to make you gasp, then pause to let you adjust. her eyes are glued to your face, watching every little reaction, every twitch and breath. she’s completely focused on you, eyebrows knit like she’s trying to memorise how this feels for you, not her.

“oh my god,” she breathes when she’s fully in. “you’re so tight, holy shit-“

you moan quietly, nails digging into her bicep. she holds still for a beat, leaning down to kiss you again. it’s sloppy now, needy, less careful, her hips rocking slightly like she can’t help it.

“move,” you whisper. “please.”

that’s all it takes.

she starts a rhythm; slow at first, cautious, her hips grinding down at just the right angle. the harness presses against her pelvis, and she lets out this stunned little groan, like she’s shocked she can feel anything from it.

“is that okay?” she pants.

“so fucking good, ellie. just like that.”

her confidence builds fast. the thrusts get steadier, deeper, more sure. she adjusts your legs over her hips, one hand gripping your thigh, the other laced with yours by your head. she’s panting now, her voice wrecked.

“you’re doing so good,” you whisper, clinging to her. “so good, baby.”

her eyes flutter shut and she lets out a broken moan. “fuck, i-don’t say stuff like that, i’m gonna melt.”

“please melt. melt inside me.”

“babe-!”

you’re both laughing a little even as things intensify. her thrusts get sharper, more deliberate, each one landing perfectly, building that fire inside you until you’re arching into her, gasping, grabbing her ass to pull her closer, deeper.

“ellie-right there-”

“yeah?” she groans. “i got you, i got you.”

she presses her forehead to yours, driving into you with a steady rhythm that has you falling apart fast. your legs tremble around her, your mouth falling open, and you barely manage to choke out her name as you come, clenching around the silicone, body shaking with the force of it.

ellie slows down immediately, still kissing your face, whispering breathless praises against your skin.

“you okay?” she murmurs. “that was-fuck, that was so hot.”

you pull her down, kissing her slow and deep. “you were perfect.”

she collapses half on top of you, sweaty and glowing and so smug you could slap her.

“so…” she pants. “was i a menace?”

you laugh, threading your fingers through her damp hair.

“absolutely.”

perm taglist: @yasmilks , @natsheretic , @lovemiraamira , @ellies-real-wife , @wewerewildandfluorescent , @jullsii , @eyesttokill , @dmenby3100 , @bunchogravie , @oneinameliann , @intheshadowofthestars , @pariiissssssss , @vanpalmertruther , @madsxh1022 , @rbnvrnxoxo , @firefly-ace , @alyaserrax , @silly-pigeon69 , @glassofgreenteapls , @pearlsiie , @aj0elap0l0gist , @sincerelyherz , @imsiriuslycool <3

[ditzyrafe]

— wanting to procreate w. bf!rafe

warnings — breeding kink, needy!reader, lewd language

a/n — the request is here

the ache deep in your womb is a constant, throbbing companion, a primal urge that happens almost every other day. it's more than just desire for rafe. it's a deeper, more fundamental need: to be filled, to be seeded, to feel it deep inside of you.

you wake him up before dawn, crawling on top of him, your hips already grinding against his sleepy, semi-hard length. "rafe," you whisper, your voice husky with need. "i need you, rafey… please…"

he groans, blinking up at you through heavy lids, a confused frown etching his brow. "baby, it's still dark."

"don't care," you murmur, already guiding him inside you, the familiar stretch a satisfying feeling. "need to feel you. need you inside me, daddy." you start moving, noticing his confused reaction to the new nickname.

he catches on quickly, his initial drowsiness replaced by a familiar, dark fire in his eyes. he knows this mood, this particular intensity you get. his hands grip your hips, meeting your thrusts, his own desire igniting rapidly. "i get it, you wanna get filled deep. ain't that right?" he growls against your skin, the words a filthy promise.

"yes," you gasp, riding him harder. "fill me up, rafey. all day. don't stop."

and he doesn't. the day becomes a blur of tangled limbs and slick skin, punctuated by your increasingly desperate pleas for him to cum inside you, again and again. you move from the bed to the shower, his hands splayed on the wet tiles as he takes you from behind, the hot water sluicing over your bodies. you fuck on the kitchen counter while breakfast burns forgotten on the stove, his fingers tangled in your hair, your cries muffled against his shoulder. each orgasm is a stepping stone, each time he spills himself deep within you.

"is this enough?" he pants, hours later, sprawled on the living room rug, you straddling him agains, relentless in your pursuit. "fuck, baby. you're insatiable."

"not yet," you whisper, leaning down to kiss him deeply. "more. i need more of you inside me." you can feel the subtly twinges in your abdomen, the heightened sensitivity, your body primed, waiting. every cell seems to scream for his seed.

he groans, but his hips lift, meeting your renewed rhythm. he's tired, you can see it, feel it in the slight tremor in his muscles. but your relentless need, your explicit desire to carry his child, seems to fuel a different kind of energy in him, a possessive, primal drive to provide, to claim you in the most fundamental way possible. he watches your face, the desperation in your eyes, the way you bite your lip to stifle your moans, and a dark, satisfied smirk plays on his lips.

"my horny little baby."

taglist ; @mojitrvo @mayanqueenxx @kisses4rafey @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @onxlyemery @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you @g3t2kn0w @kravitzwhore @dollyfiles @kild4re @zzhenyac @sparklyananas @dsfault @rafesprttyprincess @lynst91 @nonbeliever1 @drewsephrry @k4yr14 @babydollll-bunny @leleasalwaysblog @cokewithcameron @mialuvsrafe @urcoolgf @love-ella333 @amelialovesrafe @kaisage45 @goodsoup19 (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!

[s0lidar1ty]

soft/frat!rafe taking care of drunk!reader after bumping into her at a party

The party music rings off the walls of your head. Your eyes blur, fading in and out as you hug the wall to help yourself toward the kitchen.

You've never been here. At least you don't remember it. Sarah invited you, but you lost her a few minutes earlier in the sea of bodies and flashing lights.

Your hand fumbles with the handle of the fridge door, the icy air spouting out as you open it and take the first bottle you see. Clear liquid moves inside, and you don't even think before you tilt it back. But what's in it is anything but water. The burning fire of the vodka shoots down your throat.

You hiss, dropping the bottle on the floor with a dull clunk, wincing through the sting. The floor shifts under your feet when you turn around, and you stumble right into someone.

"Shit—'m sorry," you mutter, words slurring. You try to step around them, but a hand wraps around your forearm, firm but not hard.

You know it's Rafe before you even raise your head.

 You know the way his hands feel.

His fingers tighten further around your wrist as he pulls you out of the crowd, through a doorway, and into a quieter room. As soon as you're in, it's familiar. The tall, mahogany desk, the bookshelves full of books—yeah. You've been here before.

The study.

Rafe turns you around to face him, fingers cupping your face, thumbs rubbing across your cheekbones as he attempts to focus your eyes on him. "Hey," he whispers, voice low and smooth. "How much did you have to drink?"

"I don't know. How much did you?" you snap back, your bratty nature emerging from the fog. You don’t mean to be hostile, but you are. You can’t help it.

He mocks a laugh, lifting your chin high with two fingers. "How much?" he repeats, slower now, his tone harder.

You swallow. He's upset. You can tell from the tightly drawn line of his jaw, hear it in the fall in his voice. He's not angry—he'd never hurt you—but the disappointment radiates off him in waves.

And that scares you. You never want to disappoint him. Ever.

Your back straightens automatically. "I don't remember," you confess, voice softer now, eyes flicking anywhere but his.

"Fuck you mean you don't remember?" His tone hurt more than he meant it to, his eyebrows creasing. "What are you even doing here?"

You feel tears threaten to well up in your eyes before you can catch them. You blink frantically, trying to make them disappear, but one slips out anyway. You rub it away quickly, annoyed with yourself. "I came with Sarah," you mutter.

His expression of anger flickers away, replaced with something gentler. His hands fall to your shoulders, moving in slow circles as he breathes in through his nose. "Hey, hey." His voice is soft now. "I'm not angry with you, princess—Im sorry for my tone, but I just wanna make sure you’re okay." He leans down, kissing your forehead. "I'm taking you home, okay? You need to have some water and get sobered up."

You nod, too exhausted to fight it.

And then you're home.  

You wake up, and you're on the couch in your apartment, the cushions molding around you as you move on top of them. The hazy glow of the kitchen light casts shadows on the floor, covering the room in warm, muted blackness.

Rafe is lying beside you, your face in his chest, his fingers drawing lazy patterns across your back. "You hungry?"

“I'm drunk,” You mutter.

He snorts. "So that's a yes." A hesitation. Then, with a knowing smile, "Chicken Alfredo?"

You hum back to him, the only response he receives.

"Okay," he whispers, kissing you on your forehead once more before getting up and heading into the kitchen.

The clang of the pan against the stove, the gentle clink of silverware, the distant rumble of the fridge door opening—it's all strangely soothing. You close your eyes, and you hear his periodic thuds as he moves about.

Rafe turns back over his shoulder to steal a glance at you, a slow grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You good, baby?"

You sigh softly, your voice heavy with tiredness. "You look good."

He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? Your eyes are closed, baby, how can you see me right now?"

“I mean in general, smartass,” you shoot back, opening your eyes finally to back up your statement. “See? Eyes are open, and there’s still a handsome man in my kitchen.”

Rafe laughs, shaking his head in embarrassment. No matter how many you give, he’ll never get used to you giving compliments.

After a while, he puts two plates on the counter and walks over to the living room, kneeling next to the couch. He reaches out, his fingers tracing over your cheek, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "C'mon, baby. Eat first, then you can pass out, yeah?"

You take a deep breath, face buried in the pillow. "Don't wanna move."

"I'll feed you if I have to," he jokes, but there's a gentleness beneath.

You look up at him, a sly smile on your face as you tease, "That supposed to be a threat?"

He smiles. "It's a promise."

[kikufufuku]

✶ you just got into a car accident. satoru is always one call away.

gojo x reader comfort drabble. requested by anon

Satoru’s halfway through a dumb meme, smiling as his thumb hovers on your contact—about to send it to you when suddenly, his phone rings.

Unknown number.

He almost ignores it. He was about to decline but something in his chest pulls tight. His eyes narrow behind his blindfold. He had a gut feeling, and his gut feelings are always right.

“…Hello?”

“Hi, I’m calling from the local police station.. Are you familiar with a,” the officer pauses before saying your name.

He’s already standing.

“Yes—yes. What happened?” His voice sharpens, all amusement gone in an instant. The usual relaxed expression in his face disappeared, instead replaced by narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.

“There was a car collision a few blocks from,” the police officer tells him the place, “She’s conscious, not seriously injured, but shaken. We’re calling the emergency contact listed on file.”

He doesn’t wait for anything else. Doesn’t ask if it’s bad. Doesn’t breathe. The officer is saying something else, but Satoru doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the rest.

The moment your name left the officer’s mouth, his cursed energy pulsed. The world warped around him, and he teleported to somewhere near you, in an alleyway where people couldn’t see him appear in thin air.

One blink and he’s there.

The sudden rush of wind, the smell of gasoline and scorched rubber. Flashing lights paint the street in reds and blues. There are voices, officers, an ambulance. Civilians murmuring and rubbernecking. He runs out of the alleyway, pushing his sunglasses up, and suddenly all the noise around him is muted.

Because he sees you.

Right there—sitting on the curb, a thin blanket draped over your shoulders, eyes glassy with shock. There’s a medic crouched beside you, gently speaking, but you’re barely listening. You’re trembling, knuckles white where your hands are clenched in your lap. Dried mascara tears streak your cheeks, and he remembers you telling him how you liked your cute makeup today. That you felt pretty, kissing him a goodbye before leaving him earlier in the morning. His breath hitches. Your lip’s bleeding. Not much—but enough for him to feel something in his chest snap.

Your head lifts slowly—like you couldn’t believe it.

“Satoru…?”

He’s already moving.

Gone.

Past barricades, past tape, past any official telling him to stay back. He’s already crossing the street, a force of nature, moving faster than anyone can register. Officers try to stop him, but his cursed energy flares just enough for them to feel him coming, and they step back instinctively.

He appears in front of you in the next breath.

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn’t even blinked and suddenly he’s there, crouching down, hands trembling as he gently cups your cheeks.

“I’m here,” he whispers, voice too soft for someone usually so loud. “I’m here, angel. You’re okay.”

The medic is saying something, but he doesn’t care. Not when you’re in front of him looking like this.

“Satoru—fuck,” you sob, “It was so fucking scary, I thought- I thought I was gonna,”

He presses his thumb against your lips, hushing you before hugging you in his arms. Satoru knew what you were gonna say. That it was a close call. That you thought you were gonna die, and he didn’t wanna hear it. The simple thought of you, on the ground – head bleeding, made his heart clench in sadness and fury. What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t even fucking save you from a car accident?

Satoru tightens his grip around you. He kisses your forehead.

““I’m here,” he says, voice shaking, “God—I’m here.”

You break. You wail into his shoulder, and his fingers bury themselves in your hair.

“I was—Satoru, I was so scared—” you choke out.

“I know,” he breathes, his voice hoarse. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve—fuck.” His jaw clenches against the wave of helplessness threatening to drown him. “But you’re okay. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

You nod against his shoulder, still shaking.

He holds you so close you can feel the curse energy buzzing under his skin—wild, panicked, desperate. Because nothing hurts Gojo Satoru, except the idea of you not being safe.

“I’m not letting you go for a while,” he mumbles into your hair. “So don’t even try to stop me.”

You don’t.

You just stay there. In his arms, not minding the medic or the goddamn police, nor the civilians that were watching.

“I ruined my makeup,” you mumble into his shoulder, voice wet and shaky.

He lets out the smallest, incredulous laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You still look gorgeous,” he whispers, arms not loosening even for a second. “But next time, you’re not getting in a car unless I’m driving.”

“You’re a terrible driver.”

“Exactly. Which means I’ll keep us both alive out of pure fear.”

You let out a choked laugh, and it’s the best sound he’s heard all night.

He pulls back just enough to look at your face, brushing a thumb beneath your eye.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats. Softer this time. Like a promise.

“I got you. I’m here. I love you.” Satoru whispers, leaning closer. “I’m here for you. Always. I’m sorry.”

You nod, resting your forehead against his. You don’t doubt the words that come out of his mouth.

Because he found you.

Because he came.

Because he always will.