#catch me doing all this and then ending up playing one of those bottom two recycled ones anyway

[kovir]

DRAGON'S DOGMA II (2024) dev. Capcom Character Creator & Storage Demo

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much FLUFF and SMUT in this chap- they've been PENT UP so lol, warnings- oh boy- oral (f and m recieving) cum swallowing, breed kink, talking you through it, overstimulation, creampie, semi public sex, fingering, masturbation (both of you) multiple rounds, dirty talk, Toru obsessed, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 6.7k

Songs for this - Hands to Myself // Love Me Harder // With You

This is the end omg! Thank you for all the love on parts one and two!! I hope you all enjoy this cute ending for them as well! Comments and reblogs appreciated!

<<<Part Two - Masterlist

Part Three (Final Part)

“Oh sweetheart, this isn't where I wanted to take you first.” He murmurs, as he lifts you up so you’re bent over the counter, tip running along your glistening folds, making your head fall back in mind numbing pleasure. “Wanted it in m’bed, f-fuck you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

“Mnh!” Is all you manage, gasping when just the tip is in, stretching you so fucking good, you’re gushing out when he pulls it back, whining. “Satoru…”

“Aww, my sweet girl needs something?” Satoru laughs softly in your ear, breath tickling it as his fingers wrapping around that throat under your chin, pressing his tip back in, and he could damn near come from that, you feel so good around him. Gummy walls gripping and convulsing around his tip as he eyes your flushed cheeks, your glittering eyes.

“I swear… to god if you don’t just…” You’re arching your ass back, pressing it against him as he has your panties shoved to the side, his tip slipping down to your clit now. “Satoru!”

“Use those words, hmm? What do you want?”

“You inside me, please.” Is all you say, softly now, and he moans, sinking inside you in one stroke, filling you so good you can’t take it, shuddering as his cock stuffs you fuller than you’ve ever been. “Ah!”

“Fuck… oh my god, feel her.” His eyes shut for a moment at the sensation of you gripping his dick so well, at his tip kissing your cervix, his hand squeezing just so, tilting your chin to catch his blue eyes in the mirror. “Look at you, so fucking pretty.”

“Mnh…” You can’t manage anything else, not when his thumb presses between your lips and he begins to move, to pump inside you, you see black spots in your vision. You’re trying to catch a breath as you struggle to focus on the blurring reflection, when he fucks you so deep and slow, savoring every inch, and there are so many.

Satoru’s crying out in your ear, one hand holding your thigh then and lifting it higher, sinking even deeper into your pussy, which clenches and pulses all around him as you’re drooling. He’s slamming his cock up inside you, over and over now, a maddening rhythm as he buries his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your delicate skin, stuffing you more full, impossibly full.

“Toru… oh my… m’gonna…” You’ve never felt this, even with Satoru’s play, even with your own play, the sensation of his tip dragging on that spot in your slick walls is too much, you’re feeling the pressure build when he shoves in fully, bottoming out and turning your chin to face him.

“Cum f’me, lemme feel her, please baby.” He whispers, a mix of needy and dominant that shouldn’t make sense, but it does, as he slams his lips on yours, drinking your cries while you feel yourself come apart on him. “There it is, mmm, that’s it, let go f’me.”

You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to, the insane sensations overwhelming your every sense, everything fades when you whine into his mouth, when his tongue dips in your mouth, his cock slamming in with a lewd smack. You’re cumming so hard you can scarcely breathe, everything is him, it’s all Satoru Gojo, and you sure the fuck don’t see him as a friend right now.

His white hair is falling just so over his brow, as he yanks down your dress, revealing just enough of your pretty breasts to the mirror, moaning as he sees them bouncing with each thrust. He’s consumed by you, inside you, god he’s never felt anything, better, and he knows he’s not pulling out, fuck he never wants to even leave you.

“There you go, you’re doing s’good, taking my cock like you’re made for it, huh sweetheart?” Satoru whispers, you’re a mess when he pulls back, tilting your chin back to the mirror, as you see your face, he laughs softly. “Fucked out, so pretty. Drooling on my cock, and all over your chin huh?”

He swipes some of your drool off your face as you bite your trembling lip, tears falling at how intense every sharp thrust is of his thick cock in you. You gasp when he reaches around, rolling his finger on your clit, and you hear your squelching cunt sucking his cock so greedy, echoing off the bathroom.

“What… are we… oh my… Toru, too much, too-” He covers your mouth with one hand, while the other works your tiny clit, making you build back up, as if you’re going to explode, fucking faint.

“I love you loud, but let’s be quiet till we’re home, Sweets.” He huffs, acting as if you’re not driving him insane, as if he’s got any composure, as your cunt is milking him for everything. “You on… something?”

You nod quickly, as he’s pushing you more and more, the little circles mixed with long, slow thrusts insanity. “Pill.”

“Kinda… ha… wish you weren’t…” You attempt to scowl, but it’s just more drool as you’re hiccuping with pleasure, hands clinging to the counter, one leg dangling, the other propped up for his perfect angle.

“Wh-what?” Is all you whisper, and you catch it, the bright blue gaze, pupils pinpoints, his insane feral grin, like he’s lost it.

“Wish you weren’t… on any… want me to fill you up so good?” You’re dreaming, right!? This is some wicked day dream, yeah?

But you’re nodding, weakly, pathetic when you feel him pulsing. “Please, fill me… Toru.”

“I’ll give you anything.” He huffs, and you know it then, as you’re trembling, as he watches you so hungry while he takes you.

He’ll fucking ruin you for anyone.

He already has by existing… but this!?

“Can you take it sweetheart? All of it, like a good girl?” You nod once more, looking as the images in the mirror of you both are gone suddenly, replaced by white bursting stars as he sends you over the edge with him. “Oh my… she’s milking me, huh?”

You have absolutely no clue what he means, you just know you’re cumming so hard then you both have a hand on your mouth to muffle your cries, when he’s busting his hot load into your pulsing hole. So deep you feel it against your cervix, feel him in your tummy, pumping you so full as your muscles are contracting, damn near pushing it back down his veiny length.

“Oh m-my… baby, fuck…” He’s whimpering in your ear, hand clamped firm on your mouth as he empties is hot sticky load inside you, you’re trembling as the orgasm washes in waves, as you’re dizzy you’re so fucked out. “Best I’ve ever… you’re so perfect…”

He’s murmuring all these sweet words in your ear as he finishes pushing, and finally releases you, you’re shaking when he eases you down, cock pulling out of you, making a sticky mess between your thighs. You struggle to focus, to stand, legs so weak from cumming, from feeling him so deep, when he’s spinning you and turning you to him.

Your eyes meet, as you both take breaths, before you hear it then, the door, and you quickly adjust yourselves, Gojo pretends to be helping you with your strap, smiling charmingly to the woman there. “Clothing mishap.”

“Such a sweet couple.” She says, going to the bathroom, making you two burst in quiet laughter, grinning so big your damn cheeks hurt, looking up at Satoru then, as it all starts hitting.

What are you two?

“Are you okay?” He murmurs softly, as he watches your brows draw together, your teeth pressing into your lower lip again, so hard you’re tearing the delicate skin there. “Was I too…”

“No, no… we need to get out of here.” You take his hand in your little one, pulling him and entering the auction once more, feeling his cum sticking to your panties as it starts to trickle out, a sensation you’ve never had before.

“Are you sure? Did I hurt you?” Satoru whispers in front of the bathroom, quietly in your ear, you exhale now, looking up into blue eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, reflections of everything he’s always felt, and now more. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then… Do you regret it?” At the pain in his voice you shake your head, tears filling up in your eyes.

“God no, Satoru.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, talk.” He says, voice husky, you nod in agreement as he’s pulling you away, only to be irritatingly stopped by more and more people, then once outside, more reporters.

“How do you deal with this shit, Toru?” He sighs, wrapping you in his jacket as he waits for the limo.

“It’s gotten worse now, it wasn’t this bad before. Well, you know… you’ve been in stories with me.”

“Yeah, shit they used to call me your mistress.” You say with a snort, and he chuckles just a bit, both of your breath making puffs in the night.

“You’re my wife, though.” His words make you falter, as drips of rain start to fall, and you’re both there, you shivering in his big expensive Armani jacket, him just in some dress shirt worth more than your old car. You look how beautiful he is then, he’s always been so pretty it hurts, but how he’s looking at you!?

“Don’t say that, don’t look at me like that.” You whisper, lip trembling now, as more drops fall, and he’s cupping your face with his big hands.

“Look at you like what, sweetheart?” He murmurs softly, and you take a shaky breath then, your hands gripping his wrists, thumbs pressing over his pulse.

“Like you could love me.” Satoru laughs then, he laughs, making you scowl, shoving at him. “It’s funny!?”

“Shh, brat.” He kisses you, while more rain is falling, splashing all over your feet, and the car pulls up, the driver opening an umbrella and handing it to Satoru before sitting back in the car. Satoru takes it for a moment, opening it, as you’re both under the pattering protection. “Do you remember the day we met?”

“Yes.” You take a breath, looking up at the clear umbrella, showcasing every fat drop of precipitation, the sound merging with your heart beating in your ears. “I didn’t have an umbrella.”

“You didn’t, you were soaked, your hair all stringy.” You giggle a bit, shaking your head. “Your skin, it was glimmering… it was a weird thought for an eighth grade boy to have, glimmering. I didn’t think it was a word I knew.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as he strokes your cheek, dewy from the rain.

“Satoru, I…”

“Shh. And what happened that day?”

“You shared your umbrella.” Your lips curve up at the memory. “You were grinning so big, sunglasses in the rain, you had this giant umbrella too. With little fish all over it.”

“I still have it.”

“What!? No way.”

“Mmhmm, that was the day I met you, soaked and walking home, and what I should have said then, is that I fell for you, the moment I saw you.” You blink back tears, shaking your head, but he exhales and leans closer, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of it, as everything in the world tilts on its axis.

“You fell for me?” You whisper, and now he’s swiping your tears, smiling so big at you, a grin on his face.

“That’s what’s funny, you didn’t even know. But something clicked into place, like you were always supposed to be here, with me.”

“I fell for you that day, when you protected me from the rain, when you gave me your jacket because I was soaked.” You’re sniffling, tears flowing just like the rain all around you, his lips part just so. “I fell harder every year, every moment, every day, but I was so scared-”

“To lose me.”

“Yes, to lose you. Friends don’t just leave each other’s lives, I thought it was how I could keep you forever.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He tilts your chin up, looking at your pretty face in the night, finally ready to say it. “I can’t play it anymore, I can’t pretend, especially after being inside you. All I can think about now? Is making you mine, again, and again, and again…”

He kisses you, thinking he should have that day you met, but now there’s so much behind the kiss, as you breathe into him, as you both huddle together under your perfect little umbrella, images flash in both of your minds. Middle school Satoru and Middle school you, versus now. You were in jeans and converse, now you’re in a pretty red dress and glittery heels.

Satoru was in some dark blue jeans and a baby blue polo, you can’t forget it, nor his round glasses he wore then, now in this fancy three piece suit, but the two of you, your souls and hearts are the same. You remember your heart skipping a beat as he met you, and now his lips are taking you over. You’re clinging to him, arms around his neck, pulling back to finally say it, the words bursting forth.

“I am in love with you, Satoru Gojo. I have always been, from a crush to puppy love, to so much more, to where you consume me.” You whisper, the words like a healing balm on a soul that you didn’t realize was aching this badly.

“And I’m so in love with you it’s stupid, god I want this real, the marriage. I want it real, you in my arms, waking up in the morning, looking at this pretty face every day. Fuck every day forever if you will.” You’re sobbing as you nod, kissing him over and over again.

“Yes, I will. I’ve always wanted to.” He feels tears burning his eyes as his hand cups your pretty face, and your mouths move, more and more passionate with every tilt of your head, until you’re both breathless.

“I’ll never let you leave my goddamn bed.” He murmurs, making your cheeks heat up, your tummy clenching.

“God, we have been so stupid.” You murmur, he chuckles, blinking back his own tears.

“We were so stupid. Everyone always said so.”

You sigh, a hand brushing along the undercut, the soft damp hair pressing against your fingertips. “I love you.”

“And I love you, sweetheart. With every bit of my dumb brain and heart. I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No, don’t.” You stop him then, shaking your head. “But you can make it up to me, I think. All these years of pining.” You tease, and his voice drops an octave, eyelids lowering.

“Yeah, how?” His cock twitches right back to life when you guide him to the limo now, raising a brow, giggling just a bit.

“We have a lot of time to make up for, hmm?” Satoru’s got you in his lap, as you’re both just a bit damp but uncaring, you’re straddling him and whining, grinding where you’re both so sticky.

Satoru’s kissing every inch of you on the short ride home that he can reach, as you grind on his clothed cock, pressing your twitchy little clit, and you’re both whispering your love, your needs, your wants. A mix of sweet and completely filthy, your tongues dripping with saliva as you take over each other's senses, barely noticing as the driver knocks on the door.

Oh, Satoru is absolutely making it up to you when you run into his home, and he has you spun and pressed against the door, easing your zipper down, pressing kisses along the back of your neck. When you’re bare to him, and you turn, he sees you fully naked for the first time, his eyes wide as they run down your soft pretty breasts, the curve of your waist and hip.

“Oh my… you’re fucking beautiful, baby.” He murmurs, and you believe him, relaxing instantly, as he worships you with his gaze, and you’re shaky and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing his perfect, toned body, hands trailing down each defined line and muscle.

“You’re beautiful, Satoru.” He moans now, kissing you, but you’re sinking to your knees now, his brain short circuits for a minute, a blush dancing on his high cheeks.

“Shit I’m dreaming…” You giggle softly, shaking your head, swallowing when you see his length, still sticky from you, as he gets fully naked, his pink tip oozing precum, lapping your tongue up it, tasting his sweetness then. “Oh m-my… baby…”

He’s falling apart when you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him in your hot, wet mouth, his hands enwrapping in your still damp hair, pulling as he fucks into your mouth, making you throb at the memory of his cock inside you. Making you crave him even more as he loses control then, bracing one hand on the wall as the other pulls your head up and down his veiny length,

“Mmnh!” You’re whining as he hits deeper, pausing.

“Too much, sweets?” He murmurs. “Can you take it all f’me?”

“Probably not.” You say, pulling back with a pop of your lips, he moans at the sight of you, of the drool down your lips and chin. “You’re huge, Toru.”

Satoru knows he’s huge, but something about you saying it makes him lose it, shoving as deep as he can until you’re gagging, and he’s trembling, his cock twitching down your throat. “Know how long I’ve w-wanted this, how much I’ve stroked him to the thought? F-fuck…”

You’re soaked further, picturing it, but you have no clue the desperation and need he’s had for you, the way he’s stroked it right outside your room, whispering all the things he’d do when he had a chance. You’re even better than he could ever dream of, there’s nothing like you. Your pretty eyes looking up at him, fuck even your tears just make him harder as he pulls back then with a hiss.

“Shit, shit… get up here.” He yanks you up by your hair then, pulling it at the nape, only serving to turn you on more when he presses his lips, tasting himself as he swirls his tongue inside your mouth, bending down then, gripping you by the waist and picking you up in his arms. “The bed this time, I swear to god we’ll make it.”

“Oh will we?” You tease softly, he moans, hands gripping your ass now, feeling it fill his hands, as he’s pressing against your bare cunt, and your thighs are squeezing around his hips, whining out.

“Yes, dammit. We can fuck on this door later.” You’re giggling, so breathless as he rushes you into the room, nearly tripping in his excitement, until he’s laid you on your back, brushing your hair back gently for a moment, grinning. “I can’t believe we get to do this!?”

“You’re excited huh?” You tease, and Satoru exhales, kissing down your throat, leaning up and gripping a breast, pressing sweet kisses down the slope of it.

“Prettiest titties I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.” He murmurs, as he squishes one in his hand, sighing. “I knew it, but shit.”

“Ah!” Satoru’s sucking a nipple in his mouth now, hot tongue swirling around your areola, as your hands find purchase in his silky white locks, he elicits lewd moans from you, finally able to be loud, earning his cock rutting on the bed. Dying to fill you in every way he can, he’s latched onto the other as you’re whining softly, hips arching up, letting him feel your heat.

“Perfect, god so perfect.” Satoru’s humming to himself as he licks a trail between the valley of your breasts, hot sticky trail that glimmers under the light, igniting something in him. Glimmering.

“Need you… need more, please.” You whisper, and he grins up at you with those sharp teeth of his.

“So greedy already, huh sweetheart?” He’s cooing now, how he goes from whimpering to cocky you don’t have the brainpower to think.

“Ngh… ah! Mnh!” He’s eliciting lewd moans as he’s gripping your hips, kissing on your tummy, laughing a bit, making it tickle.

“Imagine it so fucking full?” You blink a bit, but then he’s spitting on your clit, watching it drip down as he spreads you wide, sighing as he sees it, trickles of his cum still pouring out. “You kept some in your perfect pussy, aww. You’re such a good girl.”

“Huh? Are you talking to her or m-me-ah!” Satoru’s scooping the remnants of his own cum out, tasting the both of you together.

“Mmm, I was talking to both of my girls.” You can hear and feel Satoru’s vibrating groans as he laps hungrily at your entrance, as your thighs threaten to close on his head, but he shoves them apart.

“Hold 'em up, sweets. Now.” You do as he asks eagerly, and you are just feeling so exposed, but he’s groaning even louder at the pretty sight of you. “Good girl, lemme clean you up, get you ready hmm?”

“Y-yes… Please…”

“Lemme take my time, f-fucking look at you.” He’s studying your glistening folds, your drooling little hole, shoving his tongue deep inside, his straight nose pressing on your clit, inhaling you as he drinks you both.

“Ohmygod, m’gonna-”

“Cum.” He whispers, looking up under white lashes for just a moment, and then slipping his tongue back inside, making you shatter around him, fuck he almost cums from just that, pressing against the bed more and more eager, lapping every bit of your juices up.

“M-messy… shit…” He laughs a bit as you look at him, coated in your slick, sucking on two fingers before inserting them in your sore pussy, making you hiss just a bit.

“You are messy, aren’t you? All f’me though, isn’t it?” He’s leaning over you, pressing that spongy spot in sticky gummy walls that grip him, and you nod weakly, gasping for a breath as the dizziness of your orgasm is hitting in waves. “Use your words.”

“All for you, only for you.” He moans now, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself and his cum as you’re trembling thighs squeeze his wrist, but he’s unrelenting. “It’s too much, Toru.”

“No, you can do it hmm? Gimme one more before I fill you, be good f’me, would you?” You nod weakly, earning his grin as he leans on an elbow above you, stroking his cock, watching your reaction. “Good girl, good little messy girl. So wet just for me, mmm.”

“Yes, all f‘you.” You’re whispering, your eyes rolling back a bit as he’s playing with you, feeling so overwhelmed, his cock is so warm and heavy and you’re already drunk off it, you’re feeling his sticky precum slap on your inner thighs now, making your walls clench around his fingers. “I want it in me, please”

“Mmhmm, that’s what I like to hear, begging for it, so needy, god I couldn’t even have imagined this.” He whispers, stroking his cock from the base to the tip, as you’re arching your hips up, silently begging.

“Please, in me, Toru…”

He pulls apart your legs further, easing his fingers out and kissing you deeply, his cock pressing against your soppy little hole, making you shiver as he slips it up to your clit, moaning. “Fuck you feel so good.”

“In me, please- ah!” You whine out, and with one swift thrust he’s in, so deep, making you cry out, and he’s groaning into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as he’s filling you, stretching you, owning you. His hand comes to entwine with yours, leaving you breathless as you look up into his glittering eyes. “Oh god, oh god, Toru!”

He’s thick, so thick and long, hitting deeper than he had in the bathroom, fuck it’s almost too much, it feels like you’re going to split in half. He’s giving you no time to adjust, his eyes dark now, almost black as he loses himself in you, at your pretty face, at your reddened lips. Your cunt fluttering around him, he’s sucking in a breath now, shaking his head.

“Can’t take it, you’re too good.” He huffs, then he’s moving, the sound of his hips slapping against you, your squelching cunt sucking him in greedy when your brain doesn’t know if you can take it. “You’re mine, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yours, all yours- ngh!” You scream out then, and he’s picking up the pace, fucking you quicker and harder, tip dragging along that spot over and over, as he loses himself, maddened by how perfect you feel.

“Like you’re made f’me, f-fuck baby.” He’s shocking you as he shoves your thighs up high, bending you in half. “Gonna fill you so good, can you take me?”

You just nod, unsure as your thighs squish your breasts, then he hits so deep you both scream out, that soft spot up in your cervix. His drooling tip leaks right on it as his vision blurs, focusing on the bulge forming from his cock right between the spot of your thighs, making him lose it more and more.

“Gonna give em a fuckin heir, huh? How m-many?” You can feel yourself tightening around him at his words, losing yourself in him, as he loses his mind, all the ways he’s pictured you can’t compare. No vision or image or touching himself comes close to feeling you beneath him, as he’s fucking harder and harder, losing his rythm, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.

His words are just fueling it, as his hips snap and he’s making the headboard slam against the wall, over and over as he works you, as you feel him wreck your pussy and ruin you, his blue eyes are insane to handle, but you stare right at them, hands clinging to his broad shoulders.

“That’s it, hang on t’me.” He’s whispering, lost in you now, in how impeccable you feel, in how gorgeous you are as your manicured nails press into his shoulders, only making him closer to the edge. “Wanna cum again, all over me?”

Your tears trail as you nod, sniffling as he presses in deep and his leaky tip kisses your cervix, the pleasure is so intense you can’t even think, your nails are digging into his back now, leaving little half moons as he’s pumping in and out of you, your legs shaking. You’re so close, already so exhausted from the pleasure he’s brought, but you crave more, just like him.

“I’m gonna fill you up, so good this time, even more.” His husky whisper mixes with your heart pounding in your ears, with his fancy headboard slamming the wall and the huge bed shaking with his force.

“P-please, fill me ngh!” You cry out as he buries his face against your neck, hands gripping your hips and shoving you fully on his length, eight inches stuffing you so full you’re drooling down to the balls smacking your ass now. You hear the sounds of them smacking, hear his whimpers mixing with yours, as your body feels overwhelmed with every sensation.

“You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” He’s grinning into your neck, before he bites you hard with sharp canines, and you’re gasping out in pain and pleasure, when he slams in and rolls his hips, making you feel like you’re floating.

“Y-yes, yesss!” You’re clinging to him desperately, he moans against your ear then, and just like that, he’s letting go, his cum shooting inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh m-my… you feel so fucking…” He’s huffing as he keeps pumping so much, pulling up to kiss you as he does, making you shiver and cum around his cock just from the hot gooey cum in your hole, coating your walls, so much you think you might die from the pleasure.

You’re struggling to keep tethered to the earth, clinging to him as his mouth kisses yours, and you’re messy kissing, saliva pooling as he moans and cries out, clinging to you. “Love you, love you.” You’re whispering, weakly just a breath, he leans up then, exhaling as he cups your face, studying you.

“God, I love you so much, sweetheart.” He says with a sigh, his cock twitching, still pumping his warmth in you, little spurts that make you whine, breath catching from the aftershocks of you both pulsing. “We could have been doing this, shit.”

He kisses across your collarbone, where it’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. A hand is sliding down your waist, pressing against your rib cage. You’re trying to come down, to control your breathing, hands enwrapped in his hair then.

“I can’t believe it’s real, it feels like a dream.” You murmur softly, pleasure building back in your tummy as he nips on your collarbone, cock easing out finally.

“I know, it does.” He looks at the mess he’s made of you, smirking deviously then like a little shit, like the Toru you know, and you glare.

“What’s that look for?”

“You’re so fucked out, and look.” He scoops the cum that’s dripping out of your hole, taking it on his fingers and shoving it back in, making you hiss at the soreness, at the overstimulation.

“Too much!”

“But I want her to keep it in.” He says with a pout, watching your greedy pussy suck his fingers back in now. “Look, she’s all puffy and beat up, hah.”

“I can’t stand you.” He’s chuckling, sucking both of you off him, making your mouth drop open at the sight of him, as the moonlight is filtering the room and catching on the hollows of his cheeks, your tummy heating up again. “Satoru, I think you’re actually insane.”

“You haven’t seen shit yet, sweets.” You blink in confusion, because how wasn’t this freaky!? “You’ll find out in time, you’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah.” You admit shyly, you’ve never done anything close to this, the back to back orgasms and being stretched by him have you throbbing in soreness.

“How about a nice hot shower hmm?”

“Yes please.”

Soon you’re in his luxurious shower, the one you may or may not have played with yourself in, and the one he absolutely played with himself in, and you’re sitting on his bench seat, getting your hair washed, sighing. He’s lathering it up so carefully, fragrant shampoo filling the shower, along with the rising steam of the scalding hot water beating against you both.

“I could get used to this.” You admit, he chuckles now, rinsing your hair out with one of the detachable heads, sighing as he studies you.

“I’ll wash your hair any time.” He says softly, tilting your chin up now, your eyes meet his, watching droplets fall from his snowy lashes as your hands trail down every line of his sculpted frame. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“And so will I, Toru. Anything.” He pulls you up now, against his hot naked body, both slick as he presses you against the shower wall.

“You’re my wife, you’re all mine.” He murmurs, bringing emotions into your throat.

“I’m yours, Toru, yours.”

Two Months of being married to your best friend, Satoru Gojo (it’s not fake anymore, is it?)

Satoru’s father got better, but he let Gojo take control of the company, and though it’s only been a short amount of time, you and Satoru are an absolute force to be reckoned with, the two of you the perfect power couple as you make changes from every aspect. Every higher up is affected by the changes Satoru makes, as he silently takes so many of them down.

People who need it make more money, and the rich people are still greedy little shits in their own way, but Satoru makes sure they have no easy time with it any longer, always ready to take another peg down. Of course Satoru is rich and he loves his thousand dollar shirts and fancy cars, but the generosity he has and the care speak for themselves.

You both are finishing up a press meeting, when someone in the reporters’ seats asks ‘Mr. Gojo, are you thinking of running for office?’

You pause then, smiling just a bit, as Satoru laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Oh god no, fuck all that, I would be gone from my wife too often.” He pulls you against his side now, smiling at you, his blue eyes lit up as your hand slips up his chest. “She’d be mad at me if I didn’t come home every night.”

“That’s right, I’d miss him too much.” You murmur, and everyone is oohing and ahhing as he kisses you right in front of them, but this isn’t for show.

It never was, really for show, Satoru always wanted this, he wanted to keep you forever, he just didn’t know he could in this way. He was so scared of fucking up and losing you, he kept you there in that zone of friendship, because you were just too important to him, as did you, but now you both were fully open, and it was like every piece of your puzzle fell together.

“I need to get my wife home now.” He says huskily, throwing them all a big peace sign, whispering in your ear - “I need you baby.”

You all have been insatiable the past few weeks, like flood gates opened the moment he entered you, unable to keep your hands off very long. Years and years of longing poured into him taking you in every position, some you hadn’t even seen or heard of, a mix of fucking and making love that was addicting for the both of you.

But mostly, it was easy, easy like breathing to be together, you’ve known each other forever, and those moments of peace with coffee on the balcony, or wine on the couch, were even more precious to you both. Without the unspoken feelings, with finally being open with each other, the deeper you fall in love with him every day you wake up in his big strong arms.

“You should show me, Satoru.” You murmur that night, as you’re kissing in the foyer, his hand entangled in your hair, the aching need building again.

“Show you what, sweetheart?” He murmurs, you’re both backing your way into his room, jackets tossed, stockings ripped, hunger making you both lose control, you lean up on your tiptoes, pulling him down, lips against his ear.

“How you stroked yourself for me. How often was it?” You pull back and catch his blush on his cheeks, his lips parted.

“You’re a freaky little thing, what have I unleashed?” He whispers, chuckling as you giggle, your own blush coloring your cheeks.

“I wanna see.” You pout at him now, and he rolls his blue eyes, before getting a devious smirk.

“Only if you show me how you did it.”

“Oh…” You’re nervously on the bed with him, as he lays you down, kissing across your breasts, biting on a nipple while you take your fingers, trailing them down your tummy. “You wanna see how I failed at cumming hmm?”

“Yes, but one rule. You can’t play with yourself unless I’m here.” You blink in confusion. “It’ll make me jealous.”

“You’re insane!”

“I’m serious, pookie.” He pouts now, and you’re laughing, shaking your head before you feel him taking your hand, pressing your fingers to your clit. “Let me see you play with your pretty little pussy.”

“Y-you too. Your cock, please let me.” You’re whining, soaking wet already as he leans back, stroking his length now from the base to the pretty pink tip, you watch his eyes flutter as he looks at the sight of you. “H-how often d-did you?”

“It’s… a lot.” He admits, stroking harder now, as you’re rubbing your clit in little circles, whining softly in want for him.

“Oh y-yeah?” He grins now, teeth glinting as his muscles flex, and his huge hand works his veiny length, cock twitching as he spreads your thigh with his other hand, pressing his long fingers against the plush of it.

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute, I’m m-mas- ah!”

“You’re so cute, so pretty, so s-sexy…” He’s whining now, shaking his head as you’re trying to finger yourself, crying out. “Too tiny, pathetic.”

“Oh… you’re still an… arrogant- ass of a- ngh!”

“Need help, sweets?” He huffs, and you nod, eyeing him just so, the way that melts him, ends him.

“Let’s switch.” You tug on his cock instead, the slick of your cunt making your silken little hand feel so much better, as he slips two fingers inside your soppy little cunt, and you’re gasping, back arching. “Yesyesyes!”

“Oh my god… you’re soaked…” He murmurs, leaning over and pressing that spot again and again, watching the wedding ring glint as you stroke him.

“How m-many times, didn’t answer.” You mumble, already fucked out off his fingers, Satoru sighs then.

“Three times a day.”

“Wh-what!?”

“At least.” He’s kissing you now, yanking your hand off and pinning your wrists above his head, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I also caved and took a pair of your panties.”

“You what now?” Your eyes narrow, and he’s giving you this shy, dopey grin, even as he presses his tip in your entrance, and you’re whining at the stretch.

“I tried not to, but… you really made it hard not to wanna taste you, smell you, have you on my face.” His words make your mind swirl, his eyes turning insane as they do when he’s in you, he goes from this sweet and passionate lover to batshit crazy.

But you love it.

You love him.

“Crazy ass.” You mumble, but he’s laughing as he sinks inside you, so deep, so perfect and right, and you’re whimpering, cunt dripping down his length, as your eyes struggle to not roll back.

“You love it.”

“I do.” He kisses you as he fucks into you, as you fall apart under him, until he’s on you while you’re on your tummy, pressing so deep, taking you over. You’re exhausted when you both finally have had your fill, and you’re collapsed against him in his arms as he strokes your hair.

“Maybe we should… do another ceremony.” He murmurs softly, and you yawn then, turning your head to study his face in the night.

“I don’t need one, Toru, to know how I’m your wife.” He exhales, pulling you so close against him, feeling your body and how it’s so right there, nestled against his front, how you fit perfectly. In his life, in his arms, wrapped around him, next to him.

“I kinda want one.” He admits, as you’re fading in and out of slumber, and he studies your cute little fucked out face, one he loves to watch in your sleep.

“If you want, we will. Anything you want.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything.” You kiss him, as you feel yourself fading out, smiling against his lips.

“I just want you with me. That’s all.” You’re soon lightly snoring as Satoru cuddles against you, his best friend, his wife, his everything, plotting all the things he wants to do, wants to show you, burying his face against your neck and inhaling your scent, as he hears a sleepy ‘love you Toru’ everything feels perfect.

“I just want you to come with me. Everywhere I go. Forever.” He murmurs, you’re knocked now, but he can’t stop all the pretty images in his head of his wife, and every place he wants to take her, and every surface he wants to fuck her on. He gets so excited he wonders how tired you are.

“Toru!” You’re whining later that night with his cock inside, his fingers on your clit, as he takes you from behind, spooning you, and he realizes you’re never that tired for him. You’ll always take him, and come right with him.

A/N- Aww fr ty for the love on this, I enjoyed writing it! It was supposed to be a one shot but at 22k I felt like splitting it up made sense. This was a thank you for 5k but I'm almost at 6k!? Ya'll blow my mind. Love youu

taglist one: @plaggi @baepsays @victoria1676 @flwerie @luringfantasy @moncher-ire @allonyyourmom @kindablackenedsuperhero @evelynxxo @jkslaugh97 @sugurusfavemonkey @ninikrumbs @s4ikooo1 @bunheadusa @twinkling-moonlillie @chameleonsoul111 @nina-from-317 @naammiii @whippedbyikemen @alygator77 @uarmyhopeworldwide @1satoruu @theclassbookworm @jud3thedude @isleqt @mcromer2999-blog @silvarys @orikixx @jiejies-corner-store @assbutt-inlove-with-koreans @lordbugs @ari-sa @blue-musingss @minaa-06 @uhnosav @cvixmei @seeiin @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy @beachaddict48 @miizuzu @honeybunnnnie @gojosukuna2268 @4acoffee @whoreapika @arabellasolstice

[starmocha]

to: my true love [Sylus/Reader ★ 1680 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus receives a special surprise in his study. A/N: The Sagittarius in me told me to do something impulsive again, and I lowkey already regret it lol So…a mini series of twelve days of Christmas/winter-themed standalone ficlets with all four LIs (3 mini stories for each; no Caleb, sorry, I want to wait until I’m more familiar with his character before I write him). This lowkey may be me trying to find joy in Christmas again lol ヾ(✿˶◡‿◡)ゞ Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

You were going to kill Luke and Kieran, you decided decisively, as you stood outside Sylus’ study, your hand wrapped around the doorknob, trembling uncontrollably and filled with anxiety worse than any other instances in your life.

A bet was a bet.

And you lost.

Tremendously.

They must have cheated, you thought, positive that those no-good tricksters definitely rigged the card game. Of course, you knew you were also a complete dumbass for ever having faith that residents of the N109 Zone would ever play fair in anything.

You were still going to kill them.

Knock-knock.

Your fragile heart practically burst out of your chest when you heard the knocking. Immediately, your head whipped up, completely mortified to see Luke looming over you and cheerfully rapping against the door with the back of his hand while you were silently fuming just seconds ago. Even though he was wearing his mask, you were positive he was sporting the most nefarious smirk ever.

“Come in,” Sylus’ calm, deep voice called out.

You gasped, feeling a hand over yours. You looked to your other side just as Kieran ‘helped’ you opened the door, and before you knew it, both twins gleefully shoved you into Sylus’ study before slamming the door shut. You stumbled forward, barely catching your balance before you realized what had happened.

“Who is it—”

Sylus looked up and paused. His expression didn’t appear to change, staying neutral just as always, but perhaps someone with a keener eyesight would notice the gleam of intrigue in his scarlet eyes the moment he had laid his sight on you.

You kept your eyes lowered as you stood in Sylus’ study, dressed in a bright red sleeveless Christmas dress with white fur trimming that lined around the bottom of the skirt and over your bust. Around your middle was a thick black belt and atop your head was a matching Santa Claus hat, its end dangling over your downcast face. You stared down at the black knee-high boots you wore, feeling completely mortified. You could practically feel your soul leaving your body as you felt Sylus’ intense stare on you.

“J-Jinglegram,” you greeted meekly.

You flinched when you heard Sylus’ amused chuckles.

“I-I see,” he responded, a hint of bafflement heard in his tone, but overall, he seemed delighted.

You, on the other hand, wanted to die. Preferably instantly.

Sylus cleared his throat, his voice sounding extra cordial than normal. “So…what is a ‘jinglegram’?”

You whimpered pathetically, nearly glowering when you could have sworn you heard the bastard twins snickering outside the room. Clearing your throat, you started to sing very stiffy: “On…the first day of…Christmas…my true love gave to me…”

You peeked up and you felt your face had instantly turned crimson. Sylus was leaning against the armrest of his chair, his fist held over his mouth as if he was stifling his laughter, but his eyes betrayed his amusement. They were practically sparkling with delight.

“…a partridge in a pear tree…” you finished glumly.

He clapped, seemingly encouraging you to continue. You felt a horrendous knot in your stomach, but you soldiered on.

“On the second day of Christmas…my true love—”

You fumbled, catching Sylus’ eyes brightening even more as you sang this one particular verse.

“…gave to me, two turtle doves,” Sylus helped you with his unique singing voice.

“…And a partridge in a pear tree,” you both finished together in a cacophony of mismatched notes and melody.

You winced, unsure if it was because of how mortified you were, or of how the lack of harmony between the two of you could easily be used as a form of torture. Not caring to find out, you quickly whirled around, intending on bolting right out of Sylus’ study and seeking a hole you could throw yourself into and just die in peace.

But Sylus had other plans.

“Not so fast, Miss Hunter.”

Dark red and black misty tendrils coiled around your waist and lifted you into the air with ease. You squeaked in shock as you were carried across the room and before you knew it, you landed with an undignified “oof” in Sylus’ lap.

Your hat fell, covering your eyes, but before you could react, Sylus had already helped you readjusted it. You looked up timidly, seeing his face full of joy. The way he was laughing and smiling almost reminded you of the night he and you had set free that little white dove he had cared for.

“So cute,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself, and you blushed. His thumb glided over your shiny red-glossed plump lips, admiring the way they trembled, almost as if they were beckoning him to steal a kiss or two, but he restrained himself. He continued in his soft, steady tone, “What have I done to receive this charming…‘jinglegram’?”

“Um…nothing…” you mumbled, feeling the heat spreading from your cheeks to the rest of your body. You squirmed a little, but Sylus held you firmly in place, not allowing you to leave his lap for even an inch. You looked down, seeing how one of his hands was absently caressing your thigh. You continued miserably, “…I lost a bet.”

“A bet?”

“To Luke and Kieran.”

“Ah.” Everything seemed to click into place, and Sylus leaned forward, burying his face into your hair as he laughed. “Perhaps I should give those two a Christmas bonus…”

You frowned. Pulling away, you turned to look at him, your faces just mere inches apart. “Do criminal organizations do Christmas bonuses?”

Sylus shook his head. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered, “But…I think this warrant some sort of…rewards for them.”

“Rewards? For humiliating me?” you demanded, irate.

You gasped as Sylus lifted your chin lightly and kissed you deeply, his earlier self-control forgotten. He chuckled when you unconsciously gave in, returning his kiss with equal passion. He parted, but he pecked another kiss to your cheek. “Are you humiliated? But you look absolutely adorable in this outfit.”

Your face felt hotter. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” you griped.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in agreement, unashamed. “Now…isn’t…‘Mrs. Claus’ here missing a ‘Mr. Claus’?”

Your stomach lurched at the implications in his teasing words. You covered your face with both hands. “No…no…no…we are not doing this!”

You felt the hat on your head yanked off. You looked up and saw Sylus had donned the hat he had just swiped from you. Plastered across his stupidly handsome face was the most insufferable smirk ever. He was completely enthralled by this entire ludicrous situation. You were definitely going to kill Luke and Kieran.

“Now if I recall,” he began, his tone light and playful, “the song is far from over. We still have quite a few verses to get through, don’t we, sweetie?”

You gaped, not quite registering his words just now.

He…looked really good with this hat on his head. Very cute. Very, very cute.

Maybe with a matching bright red coat that would be fitted to his deliciously toned body, and a pair of pants that would highlight his juicy ass, he could pull off that look. Would...would Sylus be willing to have a bit of a stubble, you wondered, already imagining him with one, and his face nuzzling against you, feeling the prickly hair against your smooth, soft skin, and oh shit—

You were doing a horrendous job of hiding your feelings today, because Sylus immediately noticed your reaction, his teasing growing increasingly merciless.

“Now, sweetie, have you been a… ‘good girl’ this year?”

You flustered. “What are you—”

“Since you’re already sitting on my lap,” he said suggestively, “don’t you want to tell… ‘Santa’ what you want for this year?”

“You are such a prick.”

Sylus laughed. “Naughty, naughty,” he chided, giving your thigh a light smack and making you yelped in surprise.

“We are not doing this, Sylus!” you protested, face redder than your dress.

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat with a defeated sigh. “Very well,” he conceded, a hint of disappointment heard in his tone. He smiled at you half-heartedly before speaking, “You really are a good girl, aren’t you, Miss Hunter?”

You knew he had meant it genuinely this time, but you couldn’t help but felt something when he had called you a ‘good girl’. This was getting out of hand. Was this what those no-good twins wanted to happen? For you to be down bad for their boss. What on earth was their endgame—

Sylus was humming the earlier Christmas song again, the sound cutting your raving thoughts to a grinding halt. He smiled at you pleasantly, apparently unaware of your inner turmoil.

“On the third day of Christmas,” he ‘sang,’ his jovial tone hinting for you to join him. There was a noticeable pause, and Sylus gave you a gentle nod, silently encouraging you to pick up where he had left off.

You smiled helplessly, his genuine happiness spreading to you. “…my true love gave to me,” you continued.

“Three French hens / Two turtle doves,” you both sang together, half-laughing, before finishing strongly, “And a partridge in a pear tree!”

You slumped against him, giggling and forgetting your earlier embarrassment. Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to his body, the familiar, comforting warmth calming you instantly. You gazed up at him, an idea forming in your head.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?” He peered down at you, his eyes meeting yours, and his smile soft and sweet.

“We should give the twins a fruitcake,” you said, smiling wickedly, elaborating, “For their ‘Christmas reward’.”

“Two fruitcakes,” he corrected you with a knowing smirk, “One for each mischievous twin.”

You leaned up and kissed him, “Ah, my ‘true love’ is correct.”

He stifled a chuckle, his face buried in your hair again, as he husked, “Then are you my Christmas present for this year?”

“I’m yours for always.”

“How cute,” he whispered, tightening his hold on you, and you stayed like that, humming the rest of the song softly as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

[ohimsummer]

COLD SHOULDER ft. BULLY! SATOSUGU

—minors dni, dubcon, oral [f. receiving], bully!satosugu x fem! reader, nipple play, groping, kissing, fingering, clit stimulation, one pussy slap, pet names (princess, pretty (girl), baby, sweetheart, puppy), implied penetration at the end

wc 2.2k

It’s obvious that someone like Gojo feeds off your reactions. He tugs at your hair so you yell at him, gets in your face until you’re forced to push him away, and he loves, loves, loves, the back and forth bickering for those truly vile insults you always sling his way. He’s just obsessed with little ol’ you. Barely at height with his chest, can’t move him an inch even with your sturdiest push, and yet you remain combative to Gojo’s every action. Until you’re not.

“You know she’s been giving me the silent treatment these past few days?” The warm feel of Gojo’s breath skims the shell of your ear, warmth pooling in your core while you shrivel deeper into Geto’s chest. Gojo runs a tongue over your earlobe, and pulls back just enough to catch your gaze, white brows upturned into a sad pout, before whining, “I mean really, what’s a guy gotta do for a pretty girl’s attention around here?”

Your eyesight darts to anything else in whoever’s bedroom this is, hoping to find some kind of distraction to take your mind off of these two. Gojo’s hot, heavy pants are loud over the stifled bump of music in the main area, piercing shrieks and cheers of drunk and crazed partygoers who are none the wiser to your current dilemma. Large, curious hands wander beneath your skirt, toying with the snug waistband of your panties. Geto’s firm hold keeps your wrists bound at the curve of your back, leaving you at the fiendish mercy of his white-haired friend.

“Just look at you, all pretty and dolled up.,” Gojo hums, lips lingering over your neck as he inhales your scent, before teeth sink in to add another purplish mark on your skin. “Can’t keep my hands off ya, princess.”

You want to lash out at him, bite back with the heinous album of comments that have been building on your tongue, hopefully enough to bruise his massive ego. Or tell him to get the hell off of you and keep his filthy hands out of your space. And he knows it, Gojo can recognize that familiar look of fury in your eyes, and he just adores how you so stubbornly keep biting your tongue. The stronger your efforts, the higher his yearning to hear just a single word from you.

“Still tryin’ to ignore us?,” Geto chuckles into the crown of your head. “Shame, I love the sound of that pretty voice.” He fidgets under you, grinding himself against your ass, an intoxicating, herbal smell of drugs wafting off of him. “C’mon, Satoru, make our little puppy bark.”

“Gladly”, Gojo remarks, eyebrows wiggling at you before two fingers skim dangerously close to your core. A shiver runs through you as Gojo mashes firm fingers to your cunt, prodding at your throbbing entrance through your panties, rubbing them over your pussy and coating your underwear in slick. Your lips quiver, legs desperately moving to close but they’re hooked over his friend’s knees, and Gojo licks his lips at your response. He casts a glance over your shoulder, likely at Geto, before moving up an inch to your aching clit.

“Ha, you’re fuckin’ soaked.,” he laughs teasingly, pulling at the crotch of your panties and watching the dripping strings of fluid connect back to your cunt, before letting the fabric snap back into place. “Actin’ all tough, pff, whatever.”

The words ‘shut up’ graze the tip of your tongue, just begging to be said, but you refuse to give in. That’s all they, especially Gojo, want. To get some kind of vehement reaction from you, and you won’t allow them the pleasure. Not when Geto eases a hand up your shirt to free your tits from your bra, and not even when Gojo begins sliding your underwear down your legs.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on the plump flesh, eyes narrowing at the sight of your panties disappearing into Gojo’s pockets before he spreads your thighs even wider. Heat rushes to your face at the knowledge that your pussy is practically on display for him. His twinkling blue eyes flicker over your glistening cunt, playful as Gojo leans in to plant rough kisses and nips over the expanse of your thighs. He spreads the drenched lips of your pussy, taking in the way you tighten and squeeze in a plea to be filled, before poking an index finger at your hole. His finger sinks right in, swallowed by your wet, greedy cunt up to his knuckle before he wiggles it around inside you. Geto takes note of your hitched breathing, how your wrists defy his grip in an effort for freedom. You catch winks of flowing black next to you, almost blending in with the dark shadows of this room, before you hear his voice low in your ear:

“Feel good, darling?”, Geto studies the flutter of your lids as his friend drives shallow thrusts into you. A long, needy whine breaks free, and he huffs a small laugh. “Mm, I know.”

Gojo sighs,“Fuck…”, totally awestruck at the way his large digit just disappears amidst the gumminess of your drooling walls. He retreats from your entrance, and both you and Geto can clearly tell he’s in love with the way your slick coats and drips down his finger. A steady fire blooms across every inch of your skin as Gojo takes the messy finger in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction at the flavor of you on his tongue. He savors the taste, eyes never leaving your own, and you watch as Gojo thoroughly licks the finger clean.

“Wanna taste?,” he asks when he’s done, pink tongue darting over his lips. “Or is that gross?”

He laughs at the scowl that forms on your face. You hate how Gojo somehow reads you so well, knows you’d call him disgusting and a pervert for what he just did. Hate how, if he didn’t know before, he definitely knows now that this is turning you on, if the way you leak fluids all down your thighs and this wooden dresser is any indication.

Geto’s pinch of your nipple acts as a distraction, pulling your attention back to his feverish, one-handed assault of your breasts. His fist clenches around your wrists, and you feel the hardness of Geto’s erection on your ass when he rolls his hips against you again.

“Mph!,” you barely stifle a whimper when Gojo lands a slap on your pussy, wetness spraying onto his flushed face. The way these two keep yanking your focus in every direction has your head dizzy.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you. “Oh, what was that? Wanna speak up, princess?”

You give a desperate shake of your head, struggling to control the heave of your breathes as he begins massaging your clit under his thumb. “You sure?” And when you glare down at him, he shrugs. “Alright, then!”

Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, tracing over you one last time, and takes your pulsating clit between his lips, a loud whine catching in your throat as Gojo gives you a harsh suck. Head falling back over Geto’s shoulder, you arch away from his body, toes curling as Gojo laps and suckles onto the aching bud. Your jaw clenches, whimpering noises bubbling up your throat as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you can’t help the few moans and mewls that break free.

“Ah, there it is, those sweet sounds.,” Geto muses, squeezing your wrists again in warning before releasing his grip on you. He’s pleased when you make no effort to fight back, muttering a ‘good girl’ with a pinch to your ass and trails his newly free hand up the expanse of your throat. Giving it a light squeeze, he kisses the roundness of your cheek, faintly rubbing a thumb over the tensed skin of your neck, and pulls your lips towards him. Your lids flutter open a crack, blurry image of Geto’s defined features overrunning your vision, before the soft feel of his lips covers your mind in a thick fog. Without your hands or a bruising bite to stifle yourself, the noise of your high-pitched cries easily begin to flood the room, a satisfying melody for both their ears.

“Can’t keep it in anymore, pretty?,” Gojo’s muffled taunt reaches from between your thighs, vibrations of his voice on your clit sending a twitch throughout your legs.

You can’t see him, only the mess of white hairs from the corner of your vision, but you can feel the penetration of his tongue, how it traces the surface of your walls, determined to mark every inch within reach. He uses thick fingers to bully your clit with rough circles and sharp pinches, rolling the hardened nub in his mouth between laps and broad strokes of his tongue, all of which easily drive out loud, needy whines you couldn’t even hope to hold back anymore.

“Keep making those lovely sounds, darling.” Geto moans into your mouth, sucking on your tongue before biting at your bottom lip. “Show Satoru how good he’s making you feel.”

Hot pants brush over your pussy, but Gojo continues his abuse of your clit. “Yeah, baby, talk to me, hm?”

The words, whether they were praise or an insult, because at this point you don’t know, get stuck in your throat, leaving room for only a choked sob to fall out as your hips mindlessly rut against Satoru’s fingers. Geto tightens his fist around your throat, leaving you struggling for already difficult breathes, his fingers still pinching and tugging at the pebbled skin of your nipples. The warmth in your abdomen has blossomed into a raging fire, muscles spasming as you gasp against Geto’s face, curses of ‘f–fuck–!’ and ‘shit!’ leaving your kiss-swollen lips at the sensation of your rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Hey, princess…,” Gojo catches your half-lidded gaze, tears building at the corners of your eyes. “Better talk to me or you don’t get to cum, got it?”

You twist your lips in a scowl, mind too dizzy but you know he means what he says, and you think you’d pass out and die if he took your orgasm from you when you were so close. He’s such an asshole, of course he’d hold your orgasm ransom just to get a few half-baked remarks out of you. Gojo's eyes peer into your own, head slightly tilted as he watches you weigh the options in your mind.

“F–,” he raises a brow expectantly, azure eyes widening in anticipation, trained on your lips as you hesitate on your words. “Fuck you, Gojo.”

And you’d think someone had just offered him all the money in the world the way his eyes light up, gleaming cerulean blues that crease under the giant grin on his face.

“Ah!,” he teases, shortly relishing in the moan you let out as he stuffs a third finger into your cunt. “There it is! Been dyin’ to say that to me all day, haven’t ya?”

You try and focus on something else, anything else to drown out his incessant mockery. But all that’s on your mind is Geto’s tongue down your throat, and his strong hand restricting your airflow, and Gojo still talking as his fingers curl to press into that spongy spot inside you–

“S–Satoru!,” you cry out, legs quaking as the coil in your tummy snaps, and your pussy gushes around his fingers.

Gojo stares, thoroughly bewitched by the way his name fell off your lips, and the cum drooling from your pussy, remnants of it dripping down his face and embedding into his clothes. “Holy shit…”He absentmindedly runs his thumb over the mess of your still-spasming cunt, barely taking in when you jolt under his touch.

“Stop it, Gojo, ‘m sensitive.,” you murmur between Geto's softened, sporadic kisses.

Your voice draws his attention, and suddenly Gojo is extremely aware of the aching hardness between his legs. He reaches down to palm at himself, hissing at the press of his hand against the bulge, before standing up from his kneeled position.

“Just look what you did, got me stiff as shit down here.,” Gojo huffs, undoing his pants to allow his cock some much-needed air.

You watch, dumbstruck, as the large appendage springs free. Even in the dim light of this room, you can see the redness of his tip, dick bobbing, precum dribbling down the length of it as Gojo takes a step closer, lining himself up with your entrance before rubbing up and down your slit.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you wriggle, only accomplishing to rub your sensitive clit against the head of his cock and Gojo sighs out a breath. “I-I said–!”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard ya.,” he interjects, rubbing two hands over your thighs. Gojo takes the back of your knees, holding your legs up higher to essentially fold you in half, and presses his hips forward, watching your cunt threaten to swallow his tip. “Maybe it’s good that you’re all sensitive, now. Might get ya talking some more for us, no?”

You angrily narrow your eyes at him, whining at the burn of his fat tip stretching you out. “No.”

And Gojo’s smirk widens. “Yeah, baby, just like that.”

[willyoubemycherryy]

Round & Round. (Bo Chow x Reader)

Summary: When sneaking around leads to something more… Why is sex always better with someone you aren’t supposed to be with?

Contains: MODERNAU!, age gap relationship, ur 22 and if not act like it, flirting, established relationship, kissing, smutty, light for3play, making out, cursing, ur insanely gorgeous, like birds falling out the sky to be near you type fine, Bo still has a country accent, hair pulling, secret dating, allusions to nighttime Funtime, petnames, he’s also a lil obsessed

A/N- This is part of the best friends dad! college secret dating au which I just now decided was a thing :)

XD • XD • XD • XD • XD • XD • XD• XD • XD • XD •

Bo had a feeling it was going to be something when he saw you running out to his car out from the side of your dorm building’s door way after lights out, in a pretty little black number.

The snug thing wasn’t too tight but the way the fabric fell and molded against your body was a bit too perfect, and it was short too. Smooth pretty cleavage on display. Your hair was down and he could feel himself losing his breath when suddenly you’re sitting in his passenger seat looking at him with those starry eyes and his heart stops.

Since the day he first met you, he’d noticed you always picked and chose your makeup differently. The lashes, blush, gloss, everything was always different or missing entirely and you were pretty either way. But this?

Your big doe eyes look almost sleepy because of the way your lashes were done, blush high on your cheekbones, tinted glossed up lips, white sparkly shit on the inner corners of your eyes making you look almost angelic with your smooth soft legs, re situating yourself in your seat- toes painted his favorite shade of red through your heels. Then he notices your smell and actively has to fight to keep from eating you down. It must have been new because he’d have definitely remembered that smell on you. It was candy sweet, light, and on you? Arousing. The longer he smelled and looked at you, the more he swore you were intentionally trying to drive him crazy.

You on the other hand were trying so hard to hide the victorious smirk at Bo’s “subtle” reaction. You’d planned this all the way to the T but there was a catch: Bo could only get some after the date, no skippies and as you look down, you know that’ll be a bit of an issue. For him.

Wanting to keep up your clueless act, you do what you always do and climb halfway over the console, swinging your leg over his thigh, half sitting in his lap with a breathy ‘hi baby’ as you cup his face- ignoring your dress riding up. Pouting your lips slightly before pecking at his in lingering, syrupy, kisses that only get harder as his strong arms wrap around you. His lips chasing yours.

Letting your mouths fit and slide against each other, they grow slick with your lipgloss, until you pull away with a wet ‘pop’ when he starts suckling on your bottom lip; denying him entrance, you hiss slightly at the sensation, moving up a little on his lap to get a good look at him.

That ends up being a terrible error on your part because he looks about ready to eat you. Bo’s normally brown eyes are almost black, only a bit of the color visible past his blown out pupils, his already pink lips parted as they shine with your shared gloss.

However, if there’s one thing you are it’s a tease so you let his hands wander over your body shamelessly, squeezing and massaging while you eye fuck each other after barely exchanging more than two words.

“Are you gonna take me or did you forget?”

Your words are purposely double sided as you raise an eyebrow, batting your lashes. You know he catches the meaning because you feel his hands tighten around your hips with a low groan.

“Mmhm. Keep playing. You cute now but you and I both know I only need 5 minutes to get you singin’ a real different tune.”

Even though his tone had no actual bite- all amusement, you knew he meant business and it makes you gasp because it usually took a lot more to make him crack even slightly.

Your gasp quickly tapers off into a moan as Bo pulls you into his lap completely, burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply before groaning out,

“Fuck. You smell so good. Good enough to goddamn eat and lookin’ just as delicious.” Your body flushes with pure heat as you shiver at the visual his words give you and the throb in your core follows. Without missing a beat, Bo’s grabbing your hips, grinding dazedly up against your wet clothed cunt. A pleasured moan shoots from your chest; both of you breathing heavily and you try not to be too loud since you two were still on campus.

“Yeah? I got it just for you but,” you pause, struggling to get your words out without moaning through to the way his strong hands felt roaming all over you. Still, you push on.

“We have to go, mmm- our date remember? You said we’d go do some dancin’, plus we’re still on college grounds- ah! At least pull off-!” You were cut off as you felt his hand run smoothly up under your dress, right over your pussy as his other hand locks in your hair and pulls. The sting sends shocks through your and you throb. Bo exposes your chest as he starts lapping and sucking wetly at your cleavage. The harsh sucking of his sultry lips on the top of your tits and neck added with his teasing fingers, has you whining and writhing in his lap in record time, lips parting as you cry out his name.

You were getting carried away.

It all just felt so good.

The way he looked at you, how well he treated you, the way you always wanted each other, the way he just looked so good, so effortlessly-all the time. You’ve only been dating for a few months but being together felt so natural and that’s what really did it for you.

And damn was he fine. It really was starting to become almost impossible for you two to separate.

Logically, you knew you had to because the risk was simply too high. Your campus gossip vine was no joke and if Lisa heard and found out you were sneaking around with her dad after being spotted in his lap kissing like he was a second away from laying you across the dashboard and railing your lights out- she’d kill you and send your ashes somewhere else.

You were both adults but it still felt like a betrayal and you knew that if it ever did get out, you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to keep being with him anymore. Just the thought of breaking up made you feel sick. So, you kiss back just as feverishly. Whining when he sucks your tongue into his mouth, lips molding together again. When his fingers get to swirling those delicious little circles into your clit, you force yourself to pull away just enough to press one final kiss against his swollen lips- moving back altogether and putting a hand on his chest to stop him when he tries to follow you.

By the end of it all you’re both panting, your dress has ridden up almost all the way with your wetness soaking through the front of his slacks where you were seated tightly against him. Darkening hickeys are scattered all over your chest; shining with his saliva, and he was no better off. Bo was sweating- so hard he was straining against said pants and his hair was in all kinds of disarray with your lip tint smeared all over his face and jaw.

You both look at the each other’s handiwork, breaking out into almost embarrassed but happy smiles. Bo takes your hands, holding them delicately in his rougher ones- pressing tender kisses on your knuckles. Holding them to his chest and smiling boyishly up at you and you feel your heart swell with affection as you look at him sweetly.

“Y’really do look lovely. I meant ta say so earlier but you have a way of gettin’ to me.” He confesses so earnestly that you might as well be flying on cloud nine.

“Thank you- you’re just as easy on the eyes yourself”, you purr. Kissing him on the chin with a smile.

“You still wanna go? I’ll go wherever you want but you got a lil’ um..”, he points with his finger, “on your neck..and chest…”

He’s so sweet about it you laugh as you slide back into your seat; feeling around until you hold up your clutch with a light ‘ha!’ Leaning over as you meet in a soft kiss.

“It’s okay, I bought stuff for touch ups.”

“Of course y’did.”

You two finally pull off and you turn on the radio as you fix your makeup and cover the marks. Looking over when you’re done, you admire how fine Bo looks when he’s focused.

You were never a subtle girl. He can feel your eyes burning into him and he grins, chuckling lowly under his breath.

“Y’wantin’ somethin’ from me, pretty?”

God, you love it when he talks to you like that.

“Oh I do. But I know you’ll give it to me later. Right baby?”

He grips your thigh, fingers dancing dangerously close to your pussy when he drawls out,

“Mhmm. Y’can get whatever you want f’me.”

You almost break your neck with how fast you turn to face him, jaw slack at the liquid heat suddenly boiling your blood and you need to calm down. Busying yourself, you take a makeup wipe to clean around his mouth and jaw where you got your lip-stain.

“There. Want me to fix your hair back?” He’s quiet for a beat before he answers,

“No, but thank you princess”. You beam at him and nod, enjoying the music before he asks you if you plan on putting the hurt on him too bad tonight.

“Depends…”, you answer vaguely but he’s all too familiar with your brand of dog and pony. Turning your chin with his index finger at the next red light, he turns to whisper against your lips.

“Oh yeah? On what?” He watches you swallow as his own blood starts to rush.

“How fast you tire me out first.”

He smirks.

“Trust, baby…that won’t be a problem.”

[sturnmeovr]

Pierced II - Chris Sturniolo

Part One Based off this request Pairings - bfb!Chris x fem!Reader Warnings - MDNI, smut, masturbation, oral fem receiving, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, p in v, titty play, pet names (baby), praise kink, strong language. (comment if I missed any!) Summary - After Matt catches you and Chris in the hallway, Chris dismisses him, and takes you to his room, easily giving you the best fuck of your life. W/c - 2896?? A/n - With Pierced being one of my top liked post, I had some requests for a part two! This is my first smut and I'm not too experienced writing smut sooo 🫣 Posting this before I clock in lol. I haven't proofread this yet so please forgive me if there's typos/mistakes!! Tags - @lvrsturniolo @thepubeburgler @unknvhx @m11rx @ribread03 @emely9274 (let me know if anyone else wants on my tag list!) Masterlist Current series - City of Love

Chris keeps you under his trance as Matt shuts his bedroom door. The anticipation of his next words has your heart in your stomach. Chris always had a flirty personality but something was different about tonight. The look he had in his eyes told you he was standing on business, “my room?” His voice breaks you of your train of never-ending thoughts. 

You nod eagerly, not letting your mouth form the words. A smirk pulls at Chris lips and he reaches out, looping his finger around the drawstring of pajama pants once again. You follow close behind as he leads you down the hall and to his bedroom. You watch as Chris kicks the door open with his foot, pulling the string tighter and making your bottoms bunch up at your waist. Your heart thumps as you enter his room, closing the door behind you. Chris leads you to his bed, sitting down, and guiding you between his legs. He looks up at you, a seductive smirk stretched across his lips, “I can still see, right?” 

Now that he has you up close and personal, he wanted to take advantage of it. Chris never hooked up with a girl with pierced nipples and seeing that photo earlier in the night not only sparked his curiosity, it revealed some sort of new found kink for him. All he knew was he wanted to pay as much attention to your breasts as you’d let him. 

You fight with your own brain that’s telling you not to do anything stupid but when Chris places his hands on your hips, running them down your thighs like he’s admiring the curves he always knew you had, all those logical thoughts go out the window. “Mhm,” you muffle out, locking your eyes on his. His eyes are filled with nothing but lust and passion as he tightens his grips around your thighs, and pulls you closer to him. You take the hint, straddling him before he scoots back on the bed to make the position more comfortable. His hands travel from your waist and up to your neck, pulling you down so he can press his lips to your. Your lips move against his like they’re in sync with each other. His kiss is a lot more gentle and patient than you expected. So many thoughts wander through your mind while Chris runs his hands up your shirt, groping your breasts through your bralette. Let's be honest, you weren’t expecting a hookup tonight, so you weren’t prepared in any way. You had hello kitty pajama pants on with a white tank top, a white lacy bralette and a pair of cute strawberry printed boyshorts underneath. The slight stubble down below being the main give away, tonight took you by surprise. Your outfit was not screaming ‘fuck me’ but your body definitely was. 

Deciding against your logical thoughts, you slip your shirt over your head. Within seconds, Chris is attacking your chest and stomach with wet sloppy kisses, the warmth of his lips against your skin makes you shiver. “That picture was so sexy,” he muffles, dragging his lips against your skin. “You don’t know how long I've been wanting to do this,” Chris looks up, the lust never leaving his eyes. His hands find their way underneath your bralette and he massages you gently. His fingers glide over your nipples lightly, hitting the cold metal each time. A small whimper rolls off your tongue, making him look up at you, “take this off for me.” 

You tug at each side of your bralette, sliding it over your head and letting it his the mattress next you, “fuck y/n.” Chris couldn't help himself, both of his hands immediately cup your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he compliments before snaking an arm around your waist and attaching his mouth to your left breast. Your mouth forms an O-shape at the sudden contact, and you run your hand through his hair as flicks his tongue against your pierced nipple. His unoccupied hand travels up to your right breast, trailing lightly around your areola before pinching at your sensitive nub a little too hard. You suck in a sharp, Chris notices very quickly, parting himself with a barely noticeable popping noise when he pulls away, “too much?” 

“N-no it’s fine,” you tell him. It’s almost like you feared he’d stop, and that was the last thing you wanted. In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn’t going to, and you knew you’d be getting fucked sensless by him tonight at the rate it was going. Pushing your sane thoughts to the back of your head, “here. Lay down,” his voice raspier than before. You do exactly as you're told, scooting off his lap and onto his bed, laying back on the pillow as Chris hovers over you. Engulfing you in a heated kiss once again, he lets his hands wander all over your body, paying attention to the only naked part of you the most. Needing more of him, you roll your body against his as he slips his tongue in your mouth, letting it dance with yours. Before it gets too heated he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours, “you wanna stop?” 

His question taking you off guard, “what, no, why?” you ask, trying to catch your breath he sucked out of you. “I don’t want to,” you blurt out in a whiny tone. You were desperate for him at this point, and he’s barely even done anything. Chris raises his eyebrows at you, awe etched across his face, “no?” You shake your head almost immediately, “not now,” pushing your hips against his. His tongue darts across his lips, and his eyes trail down to your breasts, his hand following quickly after, “you sure, Y/n?” His bright blue orbs locking you in for the millionth time tonight, his gaze was hypnotic, making it impossible to say no to, not that you planned on it. You let out an impatient huff, “Chrisss,” stretching his name out, making Chris smirk. Little did you know, your pleas only turned him on more. He wanted to hear you whine his name while his cock was buried deep inside on you, hitting spots you didn’t even know were there.

“Then take these off,” he commands, tugging at your hello kitty pajama pants. You lift your hips up, letting him slide your pants down your legs. You watch as he tosses them over his shoulder, not caring where they land. Chris runs a finger over your clothed heat, making you squirm under his touch. You had been in his room less than ten minutes and he already had a pool of wetness collecting in your panties. It was nothing you had experienced before. His touch was too gentle for you - too caring. 

You watch as Chris takes the outside of his index finger, dragging it along your slit, applying just enough pressure to make a moan slip from your lips. “Quiet baby,” he looks up at you, “don’t want to wake anyone, do we?” 

The way Chris is rubbing you has your head spinning circles. You barely process what he’s saying before you reply, “mmm- no,” you manage to get out. “Good, stay real quiet for me, mmkay?” he tells you before hooking his fingers in the sides of your panties and pulling them down quickly, and discarding them much like your pajama pants. Redness finds its way to your cheeks, remembering you hadn’t shaved the last couple days. Normally, you’d come prepared and look pretty but you weren’t expecting a random hookup with your best friend's brother.

The passion in Chris’ eyes only intensifies when he sees you exposed and under his control. Crouching down until he’s eye level with your heat, placing a light kiss on your bundle of nerves, earning another whimper from you. He didn’t care about the little hair poking and prodding at his lips, he wanted as much of you as you’d give him. His eyes lock themselves on yours, keeping you in a trance as he uses his tongue to his, and your, advantage. Your mouth forms the same O-shape as earlier, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better view of the beautiful man lapping at your folds. A smile pulls at his lips but quickly disappears when he wraps his hand around your thigh, pulling you closer, so he can can as much of you as possible. His mouth never leaves your heat as he pulls you closer, making his teeth rub against your clit. Unexpectedly, the impact felt really fucking good. “Fuck Chris,” you moan out before throwing your head back. 

“M’sorry” his voice comes out muffled since his mouth is still pressed against you. His immediate thought was that he was too rough. “Please keep going,” you tell him, tugging a hand through his hair once again. Chris grants your wish, flicking his tongue against your faster than before. You bury your bottom lip between your teeth as an attempt to bite back your moans, but once Chris pushes his middle finger inside you, you can’t hold back anymore. “Chrisss,” you stretch out. Your back arches off of the bed at the feeling of something finally penetrating you. Your last senseless hookup being weeks ago, you were dying to get yours off. Not that you couldn’t do it yourself, it wasn’t the same as having a male presence. Chris easily before your favorite fuck after tonight. Before you can adjust to his middle finger, he adds his ring finger too. You buck your hips at him as your way of telling him you were enjoying it. You watch Chris as he gently pushes his fingers in and out of you, flicking his tongue against your clit. The warm sensation of his tongue against you and his fingers roughly sliding in and out becomes too hard to hold back, so you reach for a pillow to drown out your cries of pleasure. 

“Fuck fuck, oh my god. Chris!” your moans come out muffled by the pillow but Chris can still hear you. Hearing you call his name only gives him more confidence to go crazy, darting his tongue against your folds while pumping his fingers at a fast pace. Repetitive little ‘uh’s fall from lips as your legs quiver, and your hands fist the pillow as he builds you up to your climax. Right as you’re about to let go, he pulls away. The ghost of his lips making you whine at him, throwing the pillow off of your face, “Chris,” you groan at the loss of contact, only wanting needing more of him.

“Tell me baby,” Chris sounds as he rubs a hand down inside of your thigh, “tell me what you want,” brushing his lips against your knee and leaving a soft kiss. 

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “I need you to fuck me,” pulling your body up from the mattress, and smashing your lips into his. “Please,” you practically beg after pulling away, letting your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips, “I need you right now.”

Whatever magic spell Chris had you under was extremely impressive - and hard to get away from. No man had ever made you feel the way he did and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. Chris nods with urgency, stepping off of the bed to undress himself. Almost like an instinct, your hand makes its way between your thighs to pleasure yourself while you wait for him to undress. Your free hand finds its way to your breast, lightly clamping your nipple between your index finger and thumb. After Chris undresses, he hovers over you, taking in the amazing view of having the girl he’s wanted for the longest, masterbating in his bed. Dragging a thumb across your bottom lip and trailing it down to the breast you aren’t fondling. He pinches lightly at your nipple, “can’t wait for me, huh?” his voice stays hoarse from the groans he had been swallowing all night, “doesn’t look like you need me.”

His words make you stop abruptly, your hand flying from your swollen clit to his erection in one quick movement. He jumps at the contact, squeezing his eyes shut. “I told you I need you, so c’mere,” you bat your eyelashes at him, not letting him go as he takes a step forward. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m leaving and we’re never mentioning this again,” the words come out a bit more domineering than normal but you were tired of waiting. 

Chris’s mouth drops, mimicking the same O-shape that was stuck on your face when he had his head buried between your thighs. You couldn’t tell if he was turned on or taken back, knowing him he was probably both. You watch him as he sinks down next to you, letting his hands roam your body until they reach your heat once again. “Fuck,” he goans as he rubs you. You take it as the perfect opportunity to wrap your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking as much of him as you can in your mouth. “S-so fucking wet. So go-od, fuck,” he groans, the warm sensation of your head bobbing on his cock makes it hard for him to focus on pleasuring you. You felt like it was only right if you gave him amazing head just like he did to you. Chris’s hand rubs your back each time you pull back and push forwards like he’s giving you silent support, letting you know he enjoys it. As soon as he starts bucking his hips, indicating he’s close to finishing, you make sure to pull away, leaving him the same way he left you - needing you. 

A wild smirk stretches across his face and he opens his mouth to speak, “ahh fuck you,” he groans, earning a giggle from you. Chris positions himself between your legs. Chris rubs a few circles along your clit as he lines himself up with your opening. He applies pressure, pushing through your fold and into your body slowly. A loud moan escapes your lips making him look at you. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth, “Shhh I know, baby,” his voice soothes you in a way and you close your eyes. Chris lets his body hover over you closely, leaning down to your ear as he lets you adjust to his size, and trailing sloppy kisses from your ear to your neck. You buck against him, signaling him to move. Chris takes initiative, slowly pulling back and pushing deeper into you, earning a gasp from you. 

Chris rocks his hips back and forth, catching a rhythmic pattern, and hitting that certain spot inside of you. Your eyes widen at the feeling of your g-spot finally getting plowed into, something you’ve been needing for so long. “F-fuckk Chris,” you manage to get out, your voice getting stuck in your throat at first. In one swift motion, he pushes both of your legs to your chest so he can get better access to your dripping pussy. His other hand falls to your clit, rubbing it vigorously until your legs start to shake uncontrollably. He lets out a low chuckle, “already?” 

“Ahh- I can’t,” you whimper as fucks you into a blissful state, “please, please, Chris.” Your begging only gives him the motivation to go harder, pulling all the way out, and thrusting into you until you’re on the base of his cock. He continues the same motions, making your body shake against your own will. He props your legs up on his shoulders, letting them part slightly so he can cower down down to you. Chris peppers wet kisses all over your chest, pressing a few to your lips. As he fucks you into an incoherent state, your vision becomes fuzzy and clouded with white spots. Finally giving in to the warm tingling sensation in your stomach, you let your eyes roll back, “oh my- Chrisss!” 

Hearing you moan his name gives him the same familiar urge to fuck you to an obliterate state of mind. Small moans and cries fall from your lips while Chris plows deep inside you, filling you up right after you climax. He pulls out, earning a hiss from you, the loss of contact only makes you want him more. He lets his body collapse on top of you, laying a head on your chest, and planting another sloppy kiss against your right breast. 

“That was crazy good,” he pants before looking up at you. A smile spread across your lips as you come down from the high he just gave you, “crazy fucking good,” you tell him. A chuckle falls from his lips, earning a giggle from yours. 

Chris’s touch was too attentive, and you knew you’d be back for more. He gave you the best fuck of your life, easily. You felt pampered while he was fucking you, like you were the only thing that mattered to him, and for the moment you weren’t wrong. After seeing your love faces and cries of pleasure, he was head over heels for you, and he didn’t give a fuck what anyone had to say about it. He was determined to make you his.

[practicalgauntlet]

Alexithymia

(n.) Inability to describe emotions verbally

PART ONE

Synopsis- You and Spencer share music on the jet after a grueling case.

Category- Fluff

Notes- fluff, no smut, confessions without words, Mutual pining, tension, very little dialogue, short one-shot, canon typical violence, mentions of death and murder, takes place between season one and season six but nothing about the show is mentioned just an overall vibe for Spencer, the reader has Maladaptive Daydreaming Syndrome, softcore flirting, I don't believe in Dom!Spencer so don't expect it, a vague description of the music you listen to because I refuse to describe the reader in any way.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The case had been grueling. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, a mother had killed her children, or that's what the unsub wanted you to think. Hotch was the first to deduce that Sherl McCain was as much a victim as her three beautiful babies.

They were brutalized, beaten, and bloodied beyond recognition those children. It broke your heart to see them like that, their faces permanently screwed in terror as they reached out for their mother.

Throughout the week-long case, where you and the team chased lead after lead only to end up at a dead end, a pit of dread hung heavy at the bottom of your stomach. Your heart was breaking for that family, and the two others that died before you could catch him.

Even with the sick bastard forever behind bars, you couldn't shake the absolute anguish that had etched itself into your bones.

You and the team loaded into the jet, exhausted and ready to get back home. Morgan was fast asleep in his chair, Emily and J.J. sat at the back talking amongst themselves, and Hotch and Rossi were going over the case at the front.

You were thankful no one wanted to talk to you at that moment, desperate for some sort of escape, even if it was short-lived. So you dug through your bag for your MP3 player and headphones. With years of songs downloaded, all you had to do was hit shuffle and you already felt better.

The plane ride was supposed to be long, so you got comfortable, leaned your head back, and let your music take you to another place. A place where a mother and her children weren't murdered in cold blood because some psychotic fucker thought it was thrilling.

Not three minutes in, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn your head and see Spencer looking at you curiously. It took effort not to roll your eyes when your daydreams were interrupted, but Spencer's soft voice made it all worthwhile.

"What kind of music are you listening to?"

Before you answer him, you pause your music, giving him your full, undivided attention. You notice, that if it were someone else, you would have pretended to be asleep just so you wouldn't have to stop listening to your song. "Nothing you'd like, Boy Wonder."

He sat down next to you and then motioned to an earbud. "Let me be the judge of that."

You shrug, knowing that the music you were about to play was a far cry from the songs Spencer listens to. But you couldn't lie to yourself, the idea of sharing earbuds with him had butterflies flapping around in your stomach. So, instead of telling him no -which you find yourself unable to anyway- you offer him your left earbud and press play.

The song's thrumming beat continued, and you were right back in your daydream. You felt yourself drift away, your body and mind floating towards a world different from yours. Just as you were dozing off, lulled to relaxation and comfort within your own mind, you felt Spencer lean over. His breath was hot against your ear, and the ghost of his lips made a shiver crawl down your spine.

"I've always wondered what put you in a trance, you have good music taste."

You turn your head slightly, his face so close to yours, that you could reply without the music drowning out your voice. "I didn't take you for the type."

He simply hummed and turned his head away from yours, his eyes closing as the bridge of the song ended and the beat picked back up. Minutes pass by and you feel yourself drifting off again, your gaze locked on some minute detail of the seat in front of you but you never really register anything that crosses into your vision. Spencer's shoulder was suddenly pressed to yours, his thigh closer than before, warming you like you were placed in front of a crackling fire. Not just because he was a walking space heater, but because you feel your blood pressure spike, your cheeks and neck warming with a blush you knew was on full display.

You didn't know when he scooted closer, you only knew when he was so close you could time his breaths. Taking a sweeping look around the cabin you make sure none of the other members were looking at you with that knowing, mischievous smirk they always wore when they saw you and Spencer together. Maybe they knew of your blatant and undeniable crush on him. Deep down you hoped you weren't so obvious but in a room of profilers, no secret remained hidden.

Quietly, you hear Spencer humming along with the song, the timbre of his voice relaxing you back into that trance you so often put yourself into.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A bout of turbulence woke you up from a sleep you don't remember falling into. The lights in the cabin were off save for the small overhead light Hotch always kept on. That small glow allowed you to see that everyone was asleep.

It took you longer than you liked to admit that the comforting, heavy warmth clinging to your left side was not a figment of your imagination. Sometime during your sleep, you had curled yourself around Spencer's side, laying your head on his shoulder and entangling his arm with yours.

You stiffen with embarrassment, ready to swiftly untangle yourself from him with a groveling apology for taking away his sacred personal space. But when you look up at him, you notice that he too is asleep.

Selfishly, you took this time to admire him. His sharp jaw, the way his lips slightly parted with each exhale, the column of his throat. All the things you greedily gobbled up in short, quick glances were now on full display for your glutinous gaze. He was so pretty, carved straight from your dreams; mind, body, and soul.

You didn't dare reach up and tuck that stray strand of hair behind his ear, didn't dare move to trace his lips with the pad of your fingers. You refused to risk the possibility of waking him up and having to awkwardly explain why you were ogling him like a love-sick puppy.

Your efforts were in vain as the jet shuddered and rocked some more, startling Spencer away with a snort. He looked around, rubbing the bleariness out of his eyes with his free hand. Before he could look at you, you quickly close your eyes and pretend you were still asleep. Maybe if he thought you were asleep, he'd let you cling to him for just a while longer.

Instead of shoving you away or even waking you up, you heard his soft chuckle. It took so much effort to not open your eyes and search for the object of his amusement, but you remained strong, using your training to keep your face neutral. He didn't say anything for a long time and you thought he had fallen back asleep, but when his hand slipped across your cheek, you just about jolted upright and ruined everything.

He kept his palm there for a few seconds, just cradling your face where it rested on his shoulder. Spencer moved his thumb in small circles, tracing the curve of your cheek before moving lower to swipe across your lower lip.

Your heart was racing, beating erratically against your ribcage like it was demanding a way out. A few times you almost break the ruse, desperate to see what the hell his face looked like as he touched you so gently, but you had a feeling that if you opened your eyes now, he'd scramble away from you and hide. So you kept still, reveling in the fondness of which he touched you.

Spencer pulled your bottom lip down for a second and you felt a puff of air spread across your face. Softly, so quiet you almost couldn't hear it over the soft music now playing and the roar of the plane engine, you heard him groan. But before you could do anything with that information, his hand slipped into your hair and he pulled your earbud out.

Without the music, you could hear his movements more clearly. Rustling fabric, a zipper, and then more rustling fabric. Not to mention it felt like he was trying to wiggle away from you but keep you glued to him all at the same time. Then, with a gust of stale cabin air, you were tucked further into him and something warm was placed over your shoulders.

It hit you then when the unmistakable smell of Spencer enveloped you, that he had used his suit jacket as a makeshift blanket. As he settled into the seat, you felt him lie his cheek atop your head and intertwine your fingers with his.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You were jostled awake again by a gentle shake of your shoulder. At first, you didn't know where you were, your sleep so deep and relaxing that you forgot everything you had witnessed both on the case and in the darkness of the plane's cabin.

"Hey, we're back at Quantico." Spencer's voice was low and gravely like he too had just been rudely awoken.

You were still wrapped up in him, still clinging to his arm and tucked under his chin. The reality of the situation hadn't hit yet, your brain was still addled with sleep as you nuzzled deeper into his warmth. "Hmm?"

"Come on, sleepy head, let's get you home."

You shoot up, now aware of your predicament and how embarrassing you must look. Refusing to meet his eye, you gently extract yourself from his side and stand up on wobbly legs. "Oh, my god. I'm so sorry Spence..."

Spencer stood too, stretching his arms high above his head, and chuckled. "It's no big deal, really. I-" He paused, straightening his shirt and ducking his head down to meet your downcast eyes. "I quite enjoyed it."

This had you looking up at him, the memory of the previous night flooding your mind and you felt yourself glow from how bright and hot your blush ran. "I, um..." You didn't know what to say, pinned by his intense gaze and bright smile.

Instead of saying anything else, he takes your bag off the floor, shoulders it, and grabs your hand. He leads you out of the plan, through the building, and to the street before hailing a cab. It wasn't until you were watching him stand there, a look of longing spreading across his face as his eyes trailed after the departing cab, that you realized you were still wearing his coat.

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

playing with this bow (and arrow)

— chapter 2

author’s note: narcoleptic shenanigans. slightly suggestive, but mostly sad and reminiscent. i’m teasing the hell out of this slow burn, i’m sorry.

word count: 3,3k

— Crumbles of instant coffee thaw at the bottom of his paper cup—a diluted, tepid mess spinning in a circle. It reminds him of a hive of ants, or rather of the plant you’d knocked over in your vertigo, sticky soil sneaking into parquet joints. The latter ignites a shudder. It comes with the sight of you lying supine, calloused grip mellowing around the bow. The heel of your shoe, broken at the base and slipping off one bare foot. The ambulance siren wailing in the distance as he hovers above you, face to pallid face.

He chooses to stick to the ants. 

You don’t stir when he comes back. The static of your heartbeat does the animate honours when Viktor bends over your cot. He fluffs your pillow, accepts a Ritalin-tasting kiss, and wriggles backward into the chair, his best shirt shrivelled like a soggy fingertip. 

The nurse kindly leaves in a knowing haste. He thanks her with a smothered smile and sets his cane aside, weary gaze turning rigid as he counts the band-aids on your fingers and sighs when bloodied ones prevail: three to one in crusted, brownish favor. 

“I’m narcoleptic,” you deadpan. Viktor’s good leg stops bouncing. 

He wants to ram you into the squeaky headboard and drain his voice hoarse with desperate accusations—how come you didn’t tell him sooner? What else are you conveying? Instead, he shrinks inside his tux and swallows a nervous cough. This isn’t the time, nor the place. Frankly, this isn’t even about him. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, and tries to mean it, but his hurt is hissing in every syllable. He fails to hide it, even in the effort with which he’s struggling to catch your eyes from beneath the tousles of his hair. And you don’t buy it one bit. There’s never tenderness in betrayal. 

“Don’t start. I’ve only just found out.”

“I’m not starting. I really am sorry.”

“You look like you’re about to start.”

“I do not. Forgive me for assuming, but you’re not exactly famous for confiding in me when it comes to your ailments.”

“Viktor.” 

“Milackú.”

He veers closer and pries your fist loose, his careful, well-kempt phalanxes falling atop your crust-speckled ones. Viktor is all about hands, both his and those of others. It’s a curse of a pianist: to endlessly scrutinize cuticles, corns, and calluses, more so when he gets to trace them after softly peeling old band-aids off. It’s a calming routine: he sanitizes and kisses you through your wincing, then gently wraps a fresh tape around each swell. 

“It makes sense, you know,” you mumble, more to yourself. Viktor looks up, still holding you by the wrist. “The sleepiness. That fucking, ah… cottony feeling in my legs, every time I laugh. Like they’re about to keel over or something.”

“Right. The horrific sleep deprivation, or did you leave that one out on purpose?” 

“I don’t think that counts. It’s self-inflicted. You know I can’t sleep until I’m done rehearsing.”

“Yes, but for thirty hours on end?”

“The Autumn Festival is no joke. I don’t want to half-ass it in front of the royal orchestra. They’re coming all the way from Liverpool, for god’s sake! It’s called dedication.” 

Viktor scoffs, swatting your hand away. His eyes light up, sad and jaded—a fleck of burnt ochre on the tapestry of grey, yet not nearly as rest-insolvent folds. 

“Try insanity. That’s a better-fitting word.” He sinks, head in hands, a low groan bouncing off his palms like a muffled plea.

You stare at his wedding band, blindly groping yours—like the ring might comfort you, still warm from his loving ministrations. Instead, your stomach twists. What if it’s the only thing keeping him at your side, a golden obligation forcing him to put up with all this? You shoo the thought away, but it lingers, glinting on your finger. The augury of your guilt, of two more miserable years to come: but you don’t know it yet. Neither of you does.

“I just want to be perfect,” you wheeze under your breath, and the room blurs into an astigmatic flick—the sheets, the screens, the teal, the white, the translucent. The single black speckle of his tux—your only bit of kindness in this entire medicine-drenched world. And god, does it look handsome.

“If health is the price you must pay for perfection,” murmurs the black tux, “I’d say its tariffs are inhumane.”

You fall asleep mid weak, throaty laughter.

—

Two days later, you’re playing Haydn with the royal orchestra and your heavily medicated head is thrown back, undone-like. It’s his C and D major concertos—tedious pieces, much too baroque for your liking. Viktor knows that much: his eyes haunt you from the audience, framed by a worried frown, his cross-armed, lanky stance clad in the very suit he was wearing when he’d found you unconscious. 

When the performance is over, you can barely stand up to accept the ovation. The people start spinning, besieging you with their menacing, blurry faces, and you can’t tell who is whom—the violins, the flutes, the fellow cellos. A distant murmur of the host’s praise, somewhere to your left. Professor Knirsch, our pride and joy. Something, something, the pinnacle of dedication. Viktor with pink peonies, in your peripheral. Stealing a discreet kiss on the mouth and whispering some indistinguishable adjective—either immaculate or impeccable. You lean on your cello and gasp when he places the bouquet in your hand, its weight like that of a kettlebell.

“I think I’m dozing off.” 

Your voice is foreign when you mumble it, slurring the diphthong like the ability of language is gradually leaving you, too. Viktor straightens, his grip alert around your waist. The chandelier above him hazes like a pretty halo, and you put the last capacity of your muscles into a weak smile, staring up at him from the nadir of already bent knees. You want to reach for his face and squeeze it between your mellow palms, to let it become the last thing you see before your inevitable collapse. 

“Do you need to go home?” His question is warm in your ear, a ticklish little worry against your temple. You stare past him until the audience blends into a single smear and the murmurs in the orchestra merge, crashing down, miserably failing to reach you. 

“Yes.”

Viktor anxiously looks around. 

“I’ll take you home.”

“No!” You shake your head, but it comes out like an unwieldy bob. “You’re… Fuck, you’re going on stage. S…So soon.” 

“Not until after the intermission. Surely, I can make it. I’ll ask to—“

“No.”

“Yes. Someone, please, take her cello— Yes, just like that. And make some room. Yes, thank you. Now, could you please help me walk her down the stage? I’m afraid I can’t manage with the cane— Yes. Thank you, sir. Thank you. That way, milackú. Go ahead...” 

—

In the cab, you can barely keep your lids open, and Viktor has to tuck you against his shoulder. The concerned first flute—your serendipitous helper—is hovering over the car and babbling something terrified in his thick Liverpool accent. 

Professor Knirsch, is the other Professor Knirsch going to be okay? 

Should we call an ambulance?

Is she about to faint?

You find it in you to laugh—the other Professor Knirsch never fails to ignite a giggle, but Viktor doesn’t look as amused. He’s a mess of cold sweat and peeled eyes, his shaky fingers holding onto you vice-like. He smells of that spicy cologne you don’t like—a stifling, leathery thing that doesn’t go with the scent of his skin, and so you cling off his neck and melt into the headrest instead, bloodshot eyes pondering the grainy ceiling. How many more ceilings will you stare at like this, limp and half-conscious? How long until you don’t have to flee the scene to urgently fulfill your most loathed need? 

The cab takes off with a buzzing sound. It rings in your ears—a harsh, flinch-kindling screech, lingering long enough to subdue Viktor’s question. He has to repeat it thrice until it finally gets to you, limpid, loud, and lucid.

“How do you feel?”

You turn your head and watch him loosen his tie, his trembling hands fondling the knot until it’s lax enough to let him clear his throat. You close your eyes again.

“Like I’m about to shut off.”

“Can you postpone that until we get home? It shouldn’t take too long. I paid this gentleman here a little extra so we can jump some red lights—“

“I don’t know.”

“Well, sadly, I can’t carry you. Please, hang on for me, and then you can hit the wall right in the corridor.”

“I’ll try. Just, please, keep talking to me.”

“I can do that.”

The vice-like grip slips to your thigh and shackles it to the seat. It’s pressing down hard enough to keep you awake for a few more minutes, the tender power of human contact circling above your knee. You watch his thumb twindle with the run in your tights—prying it wider, spindlier. Just like pianists, cellists have their little curses too—though theirs are hardly as neat. A cellist's hands are always string-stained and sore. A cellist’s nylons are never intact. 

“I’m sorry I won’t hear you perform tonight.” 

You buck sideward to ruffle his hair. It’s a little harsh to the touch—a crisp casualty of too much styling gel. But you’re toying with it anyway—pushing a strand here, tucking a lock there, breaking the pattern, backing off, starting over. And Viktor lets you, pliant as ever, his patient smile crooked to the right.

“And why is that?”

“It’s not often that I get to drool over you playing Liszt in that suit. No one does it like you do.”

He laughs—a rich, hearty chuckle. “You had your chance, you know. You missed my Saturday show. It’s just that you were too busy rehearsing yourself to death.”

“Is that why you were wearing this at the hospital?”

“Mhm. It’s truly a pity you didn’t come. No one in the audience had guessed my favorite flowers correctly.”

“I’m so sorry, Viktor. You know how I get when something important is coming up—“

“Oh, so your weekly workshops are events of utmost importance now? Forgive me, honey. I was not aware that anything on your schedule demands uninterrupted rehearsals.“

Your hand falls boneless into his lap, meek fingers spread out like you’d forgotten how to clench them. The muscle stupor strikes again: springing in a tiny, angry tic on your mouth and locking your every limb in a fuzzy confine. 

“I asked you to talk to me,” you hiss, wanly. “Talking doesn’t imply arguing.”

Your tongue goes numb, too. You can barely feel it, awkwardly flailing under your palate, and the murky vision comes back a hundredfold, dismantling everything into those familiar, minuscule mottles—like the beginning of a bad, lucid dream.

Viktor softly slams you into his lap, his thigh a lean, bony pillow. His hand is on your back, rubbing clockwise and counting vertebrates—up and down, neck to tailbone. 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor sighs from above you. “I shouldn’t have—“

He sounds like he’s in a jar, strained and a bit stuffy-nosed. And it’s a funny timbre—like that of the Lady in the Radiator from a Lynch movie you both like. You try to laugh at it, but nothing comes out—only a bizarre wheeze against his trousers. 

“Mhm,” you hum, meaning, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ You hope he gets the translation right: ever since you were discharged from the hospital, he’s learned the difference between all kinds of mhms—yeses, nos, bring-me-thats, love-yous, fuck-yous. 

Your blurry husband smiles.

“When I come back—“ he leans closer to your ear, his tie swinging before your face, “—I’ll play some Liszt for you. And I won’t change out of this attire until I’m done. Would you like that?”

“Mhm.” Now, this one is a love-you. 

The car finally stops, and Viktor lifts your head, looking you in the half-lidded eye.

“I love you more.”

—

Later that night, he keeps his promise. He’s playing the second Hungarian Rhapsody, your favorite C-Sharp minor one—grim, solemn, and full of crispy tremolos.

You sit on the bed with your chin tucked under your knees, and your mind feels clearer now: the sporadic naps had paid off, fuelling you with enough power to wash the daunting day off in the shower and change into a meshy chemise. 

Viktor is a vision when he plays, more so in a suit. You watch his hands flee from key to key, in that perfectly curved stance, plucking one galloping staccato after another. It’s a sequence of sounds unraveled, then masterfully merged again into something mighty and prancing. He’s careful with his crescendos, a tad too mindful of disturbing the upstairs neighbor—and, in a way, that’s terribly charming. But he has a wife to please. And there’s nothing you hate more than half-cocked dynamics.

“Louder.”

You slip off the mattress and shuffle closer, rising behind him on bare tiptoes like a ballerina. Viktor leans to the left, stammering down the bass register, and you spin—once, twice; arms up in the air, fingers clasped together. He grins at your reflection in the lacquered deck, then proceeds to tap out the climax, his gelled hair bouncing with each aggressive nod.

You stirr mid-spin and bump into his stool, your bandaged index pointed to the keyboard. 

 “Louder!”

“It’s late,” Viktor yelps over the sforzando. “I’m not particularly keen on dealing with an angry old lady at this hour.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re having a blaring orgy here.”

“That can be arranged.”

When he’s done, there’s sweat running down his face—all pearly little droplets clinging to his nose before he wipes them with a crumpled cuff. Feverish cheeks and unfastened, damp clothes—the disheveled victims of the radiator. 

A round of applause for the maestro; an amazed bravo scratching his earlobe with a husky twist bordering on a taunt. He bows for you with a bashful smile, one talented hand cupping his heart as if it might hop onto the keyboard and slam out an encore. And oh, does it hop when you wobble betwixt him and the instrument, throwing yourself around him like a warm full-body shackle: your thighs astride his, your nose in his hair—a gentle, sweet-stifling quell.

“That was beautiful, Professor Knirsch.”

“Why, thank you, Professor Knirsch.”

You laugh into his mouth, sucking in a sloppy, agape kiss—no teeth, just tongue and saliva, smothering you like obscenely thick treacle. A fistful of your nightwear tangles in his fingers and gathers into a crinkled pattern above your waist. Now you both look a mess, breathily gripping your ways through greedy handfuls and lewd suckles, arching back, back, back, until you’re finally pressed between the piano and its panting owner. A blaring orgy alright. 

And then, he falters—a brisk, terrified pendulum. Glassy eyes the size (and color) of a ten-koruna coin, looking into you like two gentle devotees. His voice box bobs, swallowing a lump. You trace it, cautious not to press, and the virile thing moves again—a shy, languid waver. 

“What’s wrong?” You peck him on the forehead, then slip down to the bump on his nose: nudging it with yours and kissing from bridge to tip. 

“I—“ He licks his lips. “Perhaps we shouldn’t…?“

Oh. That.

You grab his wrist and lead his fingers lower—cup the swell of one breast with your-his skittish hand. He fondles the mesh, reluctantly ignoring the protruding nipple, heavy eyes already filled with whatever acquiescence he’d dealt himself. 

Your mouth opens on his again, beckoning into another kiss. This one proves tamer, devoid of impatient licks—a press of gentle smiles, a plauditory, child-like collision. His fistful of your nightgown tumbles, and you both watch it unravel around your thighs, restoring flimsy decency. 

“You’re right—“ You gasp into him, “—we shouldn’t. We absolutely have to. Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

Viktor chuckles.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. You collapsed today. Are you absolutely certain—“

“Viktor, my collapses will become a regular occurrence. Are we to stop having sex forever?”

“Of course not. I am merely being reasonable—“

“Let me put it this way: do you hate me treating you like glass when you’re having a flare-up?” 

“That’s different. I’m in no need of pointless precautions, since I’m intimately familiar with my… irresolute capacities. I know how to manage my bad days. When to adhere to obstinacy.”

“But—“

“You, however, are notorious for pushing yourself, narcolepsy or not. I was born with my pain, milackú. And you’ve been aware of yours for roughly fifty hours.”

You lean into the instrument, haphazardly pressing on the screeching G-sharp. Viktor’s legs weaken under yours, the evidence of his yearning already half-soft, apologetic. He leans after you, all gentle hands and pleading, open mouth, fingers brushing thin air when you all but crawl on the keyboard, hitting a whiny triad with your hip.

“This isn’t a competition, you know,” you grumble. It’s hard to be mad at him from this altitude, with his palms resting so invitingly on lean thighs, but you turn away and trade that temptation for the sight of sleepy Brno in the ajar window. Out of sight, out of mind. If only. 

“No one’s claiming that.” He sounds defensive, strained and a little accusatory. But you’re already drawing copper-tasting anger out of your bottom lip, slurping hard. 

“You are.”

“I assure you, I am not.” Viktor catches your chin and pries your mouth open, wetting his thumb with your frothy, pinkish saliva. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful with my semantics.” 

“You really should’ve.” 

“Yes. It won’t happen again.”

The truce comes kissing you senseless—face, and neck, and shoulders, and you slide back where you belong, heartbeats mangled together inside your chests, Viktor’s hands still hesitant on your hips—more to keep you in place than to claim a selfish squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” you chant, suffocating, “I’ve been an ass. I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Apology accepted,” he whines back, heedless of the things that rhotic promise does to your underwear. And you don’t have to wonder if he means it. His eyes are evidence enough. “I’m not one to hold grudges. I’ve been an ass too.”

“I don’t mind it. You’re my ass.”

“Oh, hardly. I could never compete.” 

When the laughter dies down, he slips his fingers under your chemise and teases your skin to excited gooseflesh, little hairs standing on end under his sweet touch. His nape copies that contingency, dark strands spiking into your palm, gorgeously untamed. You rake through them, brushing out the ossified gel: little shiny pieces raining down his shirt like sprinkles of stardust. Viktor sends them to the floor with a blow—and off they flee, lingering in the warm air. 

“Forgive me,” he whispers, watching the dust lash around, “for being so cautious. You must understand; I’m worried sick about you. You simply have to go easier on your body. What are you going to do when I’m not around to offer a helping hand?”

You ponder him, pensive and visibly wan—the flit of his lashes, the furrow of one bushy brow, clutched in an arched tic. Not around? What’s that supposed to mean?

“You’re talking like you’re going to leave me.” It comes out with a nervous chuckle—a sound more strangled than it is amused. The brow under your finger relaxes only to arch again—but it’s trembling in confusion now, a prelude to his hoarse, darling laugh.

“God, no. Can you imagine?”

“Well, there’s no need for that. I’m going to get better. No more neglecting myself. And your shows. And, well… Us. I promise. Do you believe me?”

He turns to you, staring skittish daggers, and for once, his eyes tell you nothing, his sad pupils widened as if to swallow you whole. 

“Mhm,” he lies. “I believe you.”

But you don’t speak the language of his hums. 

—

-> chapter 3

[https-florals]

daydreamin' and i'm thinking of you - j.m.

summary: jj returns from a day of surfing and devotes his night to you and a lil bit of weed.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: smoking weed, a lil suggestive, but mostly super fluffy and full of sweetness

author's note: back from the dead pookies!!! i just wanna say how incredibly grateful that none of yall have come for my wishy-washy ass! this year has been vcery hectic and rough, and i am so thankful y'all have let me be MIA. here's this little blurb smooch ily (i was too scared to flesh out the smut at the end IM SORRY ITS BEEN A WHILE)

JJ smells like a perfect, heady blend of sunscreen and salt when he and the boys get back from surfing. You’re waiting on the porch like a little 1950’s wife, and he runs up and hugs you as soon as he gets out of the Twinkie, acting like its been months since he’s seen you instead of a few hours.

“J!” You’re giggling as he swings you around, smacking loud kisses all over your face and neck. 

“Missed ya, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your neck.

John B slaps JJ’s back, surprising him so he lets go of you. “You literally just saw each other.” 

JJ’s jaw drops, hand over his heart like he’s been deeply wounded. “You’re just mad your woman isn’t out here to greet you,” he counters, squeezing your side and giving John B a sympathetic look.

“Wrong!’ Sarah says as she pushes open the screen door, giving her boyfriend an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. 

John B grins back at JJ, and follows Sarah back inside. 

“You still up for that boat date later?” you ask, fingers intertwining with his.

You swear his eyes sparkle. “Um, duh!” 

A few hours later, the sun is sinking into the horizon, sky turning the prettiest pink and orange. You are toting a basket full of picnic supplies: a tupperware full of elote salad, another with some grilled chicken, a speaker, and of course, a little cellophane baggie and some rolling papers. JJ’s job is to carry the fishing poles and bait (raw hot-dogs because why would he spend money on crickets when there’s hot dogs in the fridge?), and the six-pack of mini Dr. Peppers you’ll split (JJ will inevitably drink two of your three). 

“Where are you going?” You hear someone call from inside the house, but both of you act like you can’t hear it. 

HMS Pogue is sitting pretty at the end of the dock, and you practically skip onto it. The rev of the engine is like the call of an old friend, thrumming through you, bare feet on the deck.

You sit cross legged at the bow while JJ drives, your hair flowing behind you. The spray of freshwater is perfectly refreshing. 

It’s dusk when the boat reaches a little secluded spot on the marsh, and JJ announces it. “Gorgeous,” he says, the sky purple above him. “And no one around for miles.” He plops next to you, sticking his nose in your neck and sighing. You’re sitting pretty in a bikini top and jean shorts, and he plays with the tie at your back.

You laugh and push him off, getting up to get your basket of food. He helps you unload it, mouthing a silent yes as he pulls out the sodas. Then comes the tupperware, and he sticks two spoons into the corn. “Cheers.” He holds his out.

You tap your spoon against his, and gasp in fake shock when he knocks the food of it.

“Gotta be ready, babe,” he deadpans, snatching up your bite after he eats his. “Danger is waiting at every turn.”

You shake your head and laugh, scooting the tupperware closer to yourself. “You’re so weird.”

“You love it,” He grins, and you can’t argue with that. 

After you eat, JJ pulls out the package of hotdogs and starts to prep the rods.

“There’s no way you can catch fish with those,” you question, wrinkling your nose at them. You frown, turning on the puppy-dog eyes. “Do we have to fish? I wanna smoke.”

He copies your expression and sticks his bottom lip out. “Poor bunny,” he mocks, but shoves your fishing pole in your hand all the same. “Catch a fish, I’ll roll you a joint, ‘kay?”

You sigh. “ ‘Kay,” 

He grins and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You got it, babe.” He gives you a chunk of hotdog and you slip it onto the hook. JJ comes up behind you to guide your cast and you let him, his breath warm on the back of your neck. There’s the whir of the line, and the satisfying plop of the bobber in the water. 

“Now, we wait.” He takes the rod from you and drops it into the holder, and works on casting his own line. 

You’re bored before he even puts his down. “I have to catch a fish before we smoke?”

“Yeah, crybaby.” The two of you sit on the bow, feet dangling over the water. His ankle knocks against yours.

You let out another dramatic sigh, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “This is the worst part. I hate waiting.”

JJ laughs. “Yeah, honey. I am well aware.” He pokes your side, and you yelp dramatically. Reaching over you, he pulls the speaker out of your basket, and turns it on. You watch as he connects to it and goes through his spotify, thumb skimming over the screen as he looks through his playlists. JJ clicks on one of your collaborative playlists, titled “songs for slow dancing.”

He stands up, reaching out to pull you up as the hauntingly pretty piano intro for Aretha Franklin’s Daydreaming begins to play. “Wanna kill some time?”

You smile, and let him pull you into him. You think you could slow dance with him until you dropped dead, until you collapsed into each other and turned into intertwined fossils. Maybe that kind of thing is a little too poetic for the two of you, but you don’t really care. He starts to sing along, and you press your ear to his chest to hear his voice thrum through his chest.

daydreaming and i’m thinking of you, daydreaming and i’m thinking of you…

One of his hands splays on the small of your back, fingertips sneaked under the waist of your shorts, callused and all too soft. The other one is holding yours as you sway back and forth to the beat.He twirls you out fast, and back into his grip, your back to his chest as he squeezes you.

No one would ever know it, but JJ absolutely loves to dance. A little after you started dating, you dragged him to some swing dancing classes at the community center, and expected plenty of pushback, but you were met with absolutely none. The two of you fell in love stepping on each others toes and falling all over each other. It’s always a fun party trick to pull out at the fancier parties. He’s always wanting to dance with you, whether it’s learning how to shag in the living room late at night, or spinning you around on the boat.

He stops you mid-step, asking, “Can we try the dirty-dancing jump?”

The dirty-dancing jump has only been successfully executed by the two of you once. All other times have ended in someone being injured (usually JJ). Your jaw drops open, and you lightly shove him. “Absolutely not! You wanna fall off the boat?”

He gives you the biggest eyeroll, but immediately switches to puppy dog eyes when you cross your arms. “Just like, a lift? Pleaseeeee,” he drags out, taking your hands and acting like he’s going limp. 

“Fine! But if you drop me in this water, I’m actually going to have serious beef with you, Maybank.”

He laughs, maybe an itty-bit manaically, and grabs your waist. “Okay, I’m gonna count you off, and you’ll jump, ‘kay? So, one, two, three-”

You hear your fishing rod rattle in its holder and jump away from him. “My line!” Scrambling after it, you grab the pole right as it looks like it’s going to leap out of its holster.

“Get it babe!” JJ practically shouts, darting behind you and placing his arms around yours to give you a little support. 

The whir of the line rushing out makes you jump, and you hurry to start reeling it back in, furiously turning the handle. JJ’s mouth is by your ear as you lean into him and he talks you up as you fight the fish. “Come on, baby, you got it. Keep going, keep going, you almost got it!”

He’s pulling half the weight, you know that, but you don’t mind the help when you can watch the cords in his forearms tense and pull.

Finally, the line leaps out of the water, and soon a big scaly body is flopping on the deck of the boat. “Atta girl!” JJ shouts as you snatch it up by the lure, holding it up proudly. It’s pretty heavy, probably a little over 14 pounds. 

“Look at that, baby! Got yourself a bluefish.” JJ is smiling so proudly as he fishes out his phone, and makes you pose for a picture like one of those Tinder frat guys. The flash is harsh and you know you look crazy, but he grins at the picture all the same.

“Can you throw him back in? He’s too pretty to eat,” you ask as he messes with something on his phone. You’re still holding the fish as you try to lean over and see what he’s doing.

“Here, yeah.” He drops his phone on the boat deck and takes the fish from you to fling back in. When you look at his phone, you see your face staring back up at you from his lockscreen. It was some picture of the two of you from a party, but now it’s you and your fish. He immediately changed his wallpaper after he took the picture. In your opinion, it’s definitely not a knockout photo, but you almost tear up at the sweetness of it.  

“You looked cute,” JJ shrugs, seeing you looking at it. 

You just smile, shaking your head, and lean against him. “Can we get high now?”

“Damn, you waste no time, huh?”

Soon, your fishing rods forgotten, you’re watching JJ roll you a joint to share. His fingers dance along the rolling paper, tucking and smoothing all gentle. He’s mesmerizing. When his tongue darts out to wet the paper, you swear you start salivating.

He catches you staring, hitting you with that heartbreaker grin again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Shut up and light up,” you sigh, reaching for the blunt in his hands. 

“Can’t light up if you don’t hand me my lighter,” JJ frowns, expression sarcastic. He puts his hand out, waiting.

You reach into your basket and pull it out, smiling when you see it. A few months ago, you had decided to buy JJ a custom lighter. You got him one off Etsy, a cheap Bic lighter with your face printed on the plastic. Of course, the image didn’t translate correctly, so the picture is heavily distorted, your smile big and wide and eyes even bigger. 

It’s probably his favorite possession. 

He lights the joint, letting it smoke for a second before raising it to his lips.

“Hey,” you whine, reaching for his hand. 

“So needy,” he chides, taking a hit, gripping you by your neck, and blowing the smoke into your open mouth. Your breath hitches as you try your best to inhale, try to not think about his lips just ghosting over yours, his calloused fingers hard on the sides of your neck.

“Good girl,” he exhales as you successfully breathe in without hacking up your lungs.

The frogs are peeping and the wind is slow and soft, pushing the smoke around the two of you and enveloping you in it. You’re talking mindlessly as the joint passes between you, staring at the way moonlight shines through JJ’s hair, turning it platinum. His irises catch the light just right- bright, icy blue. 

You’re sitting cross-legged, knees knocking with his. All you can think about his how much you love your boyfriend, even with the edges of your mind soft and your senses fuzzy. JJ takes your hand, pressing the pads of your fingertips against his. 

“It’s like I can feel your fingerprints,” he comments, fingertips lightly rubbing yours. He pulls your hand as he leans back, so you’re both on your back, looking at the stars.

“It’s so pretty,” you whisper in awe. With absolutely zero light pollution, the sky is a myriad of deep black and blue hues and so, so many stars. You’d decompose while trying to count them all. You snuggle up against J as he takes a final hit. From your perspective, the rising smoke almost looks like it’s weaving through the stars, netting around them and sparkling right above your head. JJ tosses the remnant of the joint into your grocery bag of trash. 

“C’mere,” he sighs, propping himself up and running a hand down your torso. When he kisses you, he tastes like smoke and sweat, and a wave of heat rushes through you just from the taste. You’re pulling him on top of you by the loops of his cargo shorts, pressing yourself against the firm plane of his abdomen.

“God, you’re needy,” he laughs, pinning your hips down with a heavy hand. 

“You made me this way,” you squirm, and it’s true. He’s too generous with his touches and too sugary with his words, and you chase him like he’s a hit of the purest cocaine. 

He shifts on top of you, a knee between your thighs just like you like it. He presses his knee up just to see you gasp and grind down on him. JJ’s laugh is a little mean as snaps the waistband of your shorts. “Okay, honey, what do you want?”

There’s no shame in your voice as you blurt out, “Fuck me.” You’re whining out a plea before he can even answer, with no care that you’re out in the open… no care that the cops patrol at night.

JJ fakes shock, but the hardness of him against you gives him away. “You wanna get fucked, huh. Out in the open?”

“Don’t act like this wasn’t your whole plan, smartass,” you counter as he pins your hands down right above your head. 

He just laughs in response. “Dirty, dirty, dirty,” he tuts rebukingly, but he’s pulling apart the tie of your swimsuit top all the same.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[mad-mato]

Noah Diaz x Fem Reader

Twitter / X p links

https://x.com/nsfwfk/status/1806530454155034873?t=pc7vNwl5z97TMl2zZ690pA&s=19

Word Count:

Cw: Sex, panties, perversions, semi-public?

Synopsis:Noah couldn't help himself. He took a swipe at you, despite the fact that his little brother was sleeping behind the wall.While playing with his panties, Noah doesn't know how to keep his request to the end.

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/meloarto-me/711663130250477568/masterlist?source=share

Sorry for the errors English is not my language. The box is still open.

Poor you, it was evening and you and Noah were taking care of Kris. Mrs. Diaz went to the night shift again and was not due until the next afternoon. After watching movies until 10 pm, the youngster was forced to sleep. Otherwise, Kris wouldn't have gone.

Noah went to take a quick shower and you made sure the main door was locked. You don't want to come into contact with a thief.

Fortunately for you, you were already washed; all you had to do was change into your pajamas. And that's what you were going to do.

You went into your boyfriend's room and closed the window, the darker the better. You lit a small bedside lamp near the bed (you bought it yourself). You started to dress up.

You dressed yourself in an oversized sweatshirt with the logo of your favorite band. And cute white panties. More was not needed for the moment, it was already warm enough. Y/N lay down on his bed and yawned tiredly of the day.

You closed your eyes and lay down in Noah's comfortable bed, before you knew it you had fallen asleep.You were awakened by the feeling of someone's lips on your neck.You groaned involuntarily.

-Noah stop ~-

You muttered sleepily. You knew it was him, he often woke you up like that. An irritating bastard.

-I can't love ~-

He replied sucking that one sensitive spot on your neck.

You muttered while catching his curly and water-wet hair. Those wet curls suggested that he had just stepped out of the shower.

That is, you didn't sleep long.

-I needs you.- He added in a low voice.

He stepped back and looked into your eyes pleadingly. How could you refuse him? It was impossible.

-The young man is next to you.-

You pointed to the wall next to him.You pointed to the wall next to him. She didn't want Kris to know what was going on here. It would be a hell of arenal.

-You will have to be quiet Y/N~.-

He whispered over your skin. Noah moved away from you and walked to the door of the room. He closed and locked it. Lest his brother sometimes walk in on you unexpectedly.Noah came back to you with a sly smile.You could watch his water-wet body in awe, his hips girded with a white towel.

God!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

You shouted in the spirit. God, but he was hot! Your body began to warm up.-Where did I end up?

It came back to you and grabbed the bottom of your blouse. She looked at you and waited for confirmation of what he wanted to do.

And continued to be a gentleman.You nodded and Noah immediately took off his clothes.He bit the lower lip of his mouth and leaned in to make raspberries on your breasts.

Perfidious bastard.

He also provided them with extra licking and sucking. But he no longer had the patience for it.

You were catching quick breaths and trying to keep quiet, but with him it was difficult to accomplish this task.

Noah kissed your lower abdomen and lifted his head to look at you with a smilingm.

-God I love how you make that face.-

He purred into your skin.He lowered himself down and kissed your core through your panties.

Diaz passionately kissed and licked your lower lips while watching your rapidly changing facial expressions.You couldn't be quiet so you bit two fingers. A poor attempt to keep quiet. Only Noah could exert such a feeling on you. And the bastard knew it.Noah as he saw that you were on the verge of orgasm moved away and stood over your lying and shaking body.

-You are going to kill me one day .... -

He spoke in a hoarse voice full of desire.From under his towel protruded a tent that was not hard to miss.-Go on then.She grabbed the towel and threw it off him on the floor of the room.He patted your thigh signaling you to move up the bed.

And you did as he instructed.You lay back and finally looked at his ,,friend, A blush covered your face and you hid your face in your hands. Always when you saw him caused cramps inside.

It continued to be just as big and unabashedly beautiful. Precum was already dripping from its furiously pink tip.You muttered something behind your hand, something he didn't understand.

-Repeat it...-

Noah ordered while kissing your collarbone.You spread your hands uncertainly and repeated the sentence.-Please don't get inside me...

I'm too sensitive and I'll...Scream.-

You muttered embarrassed looking at the ceiling of the room....Noah didn't quite understand your request, but he was going to grant it.He moved down and with one hand grabbed your panties which were soaked. He moved them to the side. And he held them there admiring the soaked and swollen hole.

-This is all for me darling? How adorable.-

He purred in his sexy voice.You kept your legs wide open, propped up on your hands to see what he was going to do.Noah caught his penis in his hand and moved his hand over it for a while. More pre cum came out of his boil.

Noah smiled and moved your panties more to the side. He attached his cock to your cunt and started rubbing hard.Sending waves of pleasure into your body, your mucus allowed mu to move with ease.

You watched the whole show with fascination, your legs twitching from time to time, Noah also looked with fascination at the work beneath him, He was damn near tempted to thrust into you, to feel those plush warm, tight walls on his cock, but he held back for now.

Slippery sounds reverberated around the room, your breathing quickened and you began to curse under your breath.

The orgasm was going to come sooner than you expected.Meanwhile, Noah could no longer fight his need to feel that pip.Continuing to hold his cock in his hand, he guided it into your entrance, pushing the tip inside.You panted surprised at the feeling, and the boy above you wanted more.

Diaz continued to slide his cock across your pussy.He looked into your eyes and gasped. He desires to be inside you, no. He needs to be inside you. Now!With a harder thrust he entered you, making you scream and quickly cover your mouth with your hand.His thrusts became faster and stronger, pounding into you like a jackhammer.He pushed your panties further away from you.Clamping your legs against him, Noah already knew you were on the verge of orgasm.

He made one last hard thrust into you and left with a moan of disappointment.Wanting to end up inside you was the tempting thought, but you hadn't yet had the prescribed anticompression, and he didn't want to be a daddy yet.

The thumb from the hand that held your panties rubbed your bump, causing a powerful orgasm.You squealed into your hands, your legs trembled and your body bent over.

Noah jerked as he watched this hot performance, reached down with a gasp on your pussy and belly.

Diaz laughed and covered his cum with your panties.He moved over and hugged you close. you moaned tiredly.With fatigue you openedoopened your eyes.-

I need to wash... again.-.

[bullet-prooflove]

Blood Orange: Jesse Van Horn x Reader

Tagging: @caffeinatedwoman @cosmic-psychickitty @kmc1989 @happyfox43 @julius-ceasar

Companion piece to:

Geordie - Jesse makes one hell of a statement when your ex-boyfriend comes around.

Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll - Jesse tries to convince you not to disrupt your trip during the aftermath of Pittfest.

Song 2 (NSFW) - Jesse tries to chase away his demons the only way he knows how.

Atomic - Jesse reflects on his HIV status.

Your neighbour across the street is a wanker.

It’s an adorable Britishism you use to describe the fact he likes to jerk off with a belt around his neck and the curtains open. Always at night and always when he knows you’re doing the dishes. The thing is it’s not just you he does it for, it’s Jesse too. The two of you often stand at the window, commenting on his technique and wondering which one of you he has the thing for.

“He’s gonna choke himself out one of these days.” Jesse remarks as he dries up the plates you used for dinner. “All it takes is one blood orange that’s not tart enough and he’ll end up killing himself. It happens to 1 in 1000 people.”

A slice of blood orange in the mouth during auto-erotic asphyxiation is meant to jolt the senses, stop you from passing out with your jaw relaxes and you bite down on the citrus.

The two of you have tried it a couple of times, playing together before Jesse became a nurse. You’d enjoyed the rush but the risk is too great if something goes wrong. Besides there’s other fun to be had if you mix that citrus with tequila and dab a little salt on your breasts.

“You wanna get into some trouble tonight?” You ask Jesse, your hip nudging his as you think about the limes in the bottom of the fridge and the bottle of Don Julio you have stashed on the antique drinks trolley. “We can put on a little Motley Crue and-”

“Shit.” Jesse erupts suddenly. “The wanker!”

You look up and there he is in his bedroom, his limp naked body arched forward towards the window, dangling by that belt, no blood orange in sight.

It must have slipped out of his mouth at that crucial point, you realise as you snatch up your phone to call 911. Jesse is already in motion, digging out the first aid kit from underneath the sink and snatching up the EMT scissors before he hurtles out the door and towards the house.

You watch through the window, describing the situation to the operator as Jesse picks up a decorative rock from the neighbour’s garden, using it to smash the glass door panel before he sticks his arm through the gap and let’s himself in. He disappears from view and your heart pounds in your chest. He reappears in the upstairs window, stretching up, using those EMT scissors to cut through the leather of the belt. He catches the neighbour before he falls, gently lowering him to the floor. You lose sight of them after that.

It takes 8 minutes for the ambulance to arrive and by that time Jesse has him breathing again, a healthy flush returning to his skin. He helps get him situated with the paramedics before he returns to you, shaking his head at the absurdity of the whole thing.

“His name is Dan and he’s invited us to dinner when he gets out.” He informs you, shutting the front door behind him.

“Dinner?” You ask before using bunny quotes. “Or ‘dinner?’”

“He wants to fuck us.” Jesse says frankly.

“He wants to fuck you.” You respond, considering the dynamics of the situation. “You’re the tall handsome guy who rescued him. He expects me to sit on the sidelines and watch.”

You don’t have a problem with bringing another person into the mix occasionally. You’ve shared lovers before in the past, both men and women but you have a very specific set of rules. Touching, tasting, teasing all of that is on the table but the fucking, that’s yours. You won’t let a single other person have that, not with Jesse.

“I told him that’s not gonna work for us.” Jesse informs you as he proceeds to wash his hands thoroughly in the sink. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

And you don’t, not until the bouquet of a dozen red roses arrives a few days later with a card that reads ‘For My Hero xxx’.

“I’ll talk to him.” Jesse says, pulling on his sneakers because you already have murder in your eyes.

“You better had.” You say picking up the pair of wire cutters he’s been using to re-string his guitar before you chop the heads off two of the roses. They fall onto the table, the petals scattering across the wood like droplets of blood. “Because he really won’t fucking like it if I do.”

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[click4rainy]

Hiiii I’d like to request a Johnny/Fem!reader like they’re in a relationship, and she’s been getting hate online bc she’s chubby and it’s starting affect her self confidence and Johnny does NOT let that slide!! Like so much fluff and angst (and perhaps even smut too)

Ugh I love the vision of Johnny Cage with a chubby girl!!!

In love with every curve

👽: I love this idea lots. Like yeah you’re right…he WOULDN’T let that slide... (He’s so golden retriever coded— UGHHHH//Not proof read, i’m messy 💀😩)

❌:Not Proof Read

🖇️: Johnny Cage x F!ChubbyReader fic

⚠️:NSFW, attempted angst, self deprecation, fluff, body worship, some titty play, thigh riding, a bit of finger fucking, face riding, super sappy—cutesy, lovey-dovey happy ending :)

★ It started as little comments. You brushed them off because, hey, not everyone can like you. You knew that. But over time, the snide remarks, the cruel messages—they stuck.

★ “Why is Johnny with her?,” “She’s a bit chubby for him, isn’t she?,” “Imagine being her and knowing your boyfriend could do better.”

★ You used to laugh at them, rolling your eyes and scrolling past. But lately, it felt like those words were weaving themselves into your thoughts. Every mirror you passed felt like a reminder. You started wearing baggier clothes, pulling at the fabric around your stomach when you thought no one was looking.

★ Johnny noticed. Of course he noticed.

★ It was subtle at first. But he began to see how you hesitated before posting photos together, or how you covered up even when it was just the two of you. He’d catch you frowning at your reflection, smoothing your hand over your sides with a sigh you thought was silent.

★ And Johnny didn’t like that. Not one bit.

★ One evening, you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone when Johnny plopped down next to you, dramatically throwing his arm around your shoulders.

★ “Hey, babe, look at this,” he said, holding up his phone with a grin. It was a selfie the two of you had taken at the beach last weekend. You thought you looked awful. But Johnny? He was beaming at it like it was a masterpiece.

★ “Ugh, Johnny. I don’t even know why you posted that,” you muttered, tugging your sleeve over your hand. “I look so…”

★ His head snapped toward you. “So?”

★ You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes fixed on the floor. “I just… I don’t get it. Everyone’s right. You could have anyone, Johnny. And instead, you’re stuck with me.”

★ Silence.

★ Johnny gently pried the phone from your hand and set it aside. His warm hands cupped your cheeks, tilting your head up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His eyes, usually so playful and teasing, were soft but serious.

★ “First of all, stuck with you?” he repeated, like he couldn’t believe the words even came out of your mouth. “Sweetheart, I chose you. Every day. I choose you. And if you think for one second that a couple of faceless people online know better than I do about the woman I love, we’re gonna have a problem.”

★ Your eyes burned, but you tried to blink it away.

★ Johnny’s hands slipped from your cheeks to your waist, his fingers pressing gently into your sides. “You know what I see when I look at you? I see the person who makes me laugh until my sides hurt. The person who steals all the blankets but makes up for it by cuddling into me. The woman who looks so damn good in every outfit that I literally lose focus sometimes.” He smirked at that, squeezing your waist just a little.

★ You let out a soft, shaky laugh. “You’re just saying that.”

★ “Hey, hey... look at me, baby.” His deep voice was low and earnest, filled with a conviction that couldn’t be denied. “I'm not just saying this shit, okay? I fucking mean it. Every word.”

•••

★ “You know what your curves do to me. I love every inch of you.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “People cant stand a perfect match that was made in heaven. They’re jealous baby, they wish so baddd that they were us, that they had a happy, loving relationship…”

★ A soft, uneven breath leaves your lips as you feel your shoulders relax, unable to stop yourself from melting into his embrace. “You think so…?”

★ “I know so. With every fiber of my being, Princess,” Johnny murmured, voice low and sincere. “I'm fucking crazy about you. Don't let anyone ever make you doubt that.”

★ To prove his point, Johnny stood up and swept you up and into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. Swiftly kicking the door shut behind you two before sitting at the edge of the bed with you in his lap.

★ He pulled you flush against him, crushing those soft curves to his harder planes while wrapping his arms around you possessively.

★ Johnny’s eyes roam over your face, taking in every delicate feature he had grown to worship. Those hypnotic eyes of yours. Your full, pouty lips that tasted like heaven.

★ His thumb brushed over your plump bottom lip, feeling the softness and warmth. Fuck, he wanted to devour your mouth, to kiss away every ounce of doubt and insecurity.

•••

★ “Mmmh,” he rumbled, stroking your hair soothingly. “You can’t let those fuckers get to you. They’re just bitter, pathetic assholes who can’t handle a real woman like you. A woman with a heart and a body made for loving and fucking.”

★ He began to kiss down your neck, sucking and nipping at your pulse point. “You hear me, baby? You’re perfect. You’re mine. And I’ll spend every goddamn day reminding you if I have to.”

★ “Johnny...” you breathed out, as if you were about to downplay your feelings, flustered but arching into his touch, you were softly cut off.

★ “No.” Johnny murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love every goddamn curve and roll on this sexy body,”he growls, sliding his hands down to grope your plush ass. “You’re stacked in all the right places, and I fucking love it.”

★ He started up his kisses again, trailing them along the column of your neck, down your collarbone, taking his time to taste you, to savor you.

★ “Tell me that you know how gorgeous you are, baby. Tell me that you knowww how crazy you make me,” Johnny softly commands—or maybe it was a plea… “Come on princess...” he adds, his tone dripping with affection

★ you stiffened, feeling almost uncomfortable at his gentle demand. “I-I…” you couldn’t convince yourself still, despite the onslaught of affection and reassurance, your eyes dart away from his in slight embarrassment.

★ Johnny could see the uncertainty still lingering in your eyes, the self doubt… He refused to let it stand, refused to allow you to feel anything less than the goddess you were.

•••

★ “So, you're being shy now, huh?” He softly teases, his hands starting to roam more eagerly, exploring every dip and curve of your luscious figure. He squeezed your thighs, relishing the way they gave under his touch. Letting his fingers dance up your waist, skimming the sides of your breasts before cupping the mounds in his palms.

★ He groaned, kneading the supple flesh and feeling your nipples stiffen against his touch. “You know, these tits? perfect for me. I mean, the way they fill my hands just right…and the way they bounce when I fuck you hard and deep, mmh, baby im getting hard just thinking about it. He leans down to capture one peak into his mouth, gently biting through the thin fabric of your night shirt. “Mmmh, so soft too…”

★ He tugged your top off and over your head, tossing it aside before unclasping your bra effortlessly. Johnny paused to admire your full breasts, a smirk playing at his lips. “Fuck, sweetheart...”

★ Leaning down again, he latched back onto your tit, taking it between his lips, sucking greedily and swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak, feeling it pebble and harden even further. The sensation making you shudder in his lap.

★ “Tell me that you’re a pretty girl.” Johnny tried to coax again, pressing a soft kiss to your flushed nipple. “Tell me, baby…tell me you’re my pretty girl.” He corrected as he brought his hand up to your other breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to elicit a reaction.

★ You let out a small yelp, “I-I’m a pretty girl—” You softly whine, grinding against him, yoir face absolutely flushed.

★ “Hmm?” He murmured in feint concern, lightly smacking your tit before going back to pinching the sensitive button. “Ahaa~ I’m your pretty girl—!” You cry out, your hips bucking down onto his lap, seeking any kind of friction for relief.

★ “That’s fucking right you are…” he hums in satisfaction, your desperate bucking not going unnoticed, he shifts you, placing you on his left leg, both your thighs engulfing it. His hands made way to either side of your waist, slowly pressing you down to give you a taste that friction you oh so desired….

•••

★ Gripping your hips tighter, he started to grind you harder onto his muscular thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your core, even through the layers of both your clothing, made him groan with want.

★ Your head tilts back slightly, eyes unfocused, lips parted in pleasure as you hump his leg, a small moan leaving your lungs. It was the most beautiful thing he had the privilege of witnessing—of partaking in.

★ “You’re fucking gorgeous, baby…so goddamn sexy and perfect,” he purred, his voice dripping with lust. “God—i love you, and these hips. I could just eat you up.”

★Johnny slid a hand back up your side, his fingertips tracing your ribs before cupping the weight of your breast in an all too familiar manner. He squeezed the plump mound, kneading roughly as he pinched and rolled your stiff nipple between his fingers all over again.

★ You gasped, your back arching into his touch, shamelessly grinding yourself further onto his leg. Your pussy was practically begging and buzzing for more.

★ “That’s it, baby…get yourself off using daddy’s thigh.” Johnny encouraged with a low chuckle. “Ride it just like that, you naughty girl.”

★ You barely nod as you obeyed, your thighs clenching around his leg as you rutted against him desperately. Johnny couldn’t help but watch, completely entranced. The sight of you chasing your own release like an animal in heat, it made his dick twitch.

•••

★ With a low groan, Johnny slid his hand down from your heaving tits, over your quivering tummy to cup your mound possessively, the damp patch in your panties growing with each passing second.

★ unable to stop himself—he hooks a finger under the drenched lace, tugging it to the side, he runs a finger along your dripping slit. He circled slowly, gathering your juices before plunging a thick finger knuckle deep inside you.

★ “Fucking hell...” Johnny grunted, pumping his finger languidly, savoring the filthy squelch of your pussy while doing so. He curled up just right, stroking that special spot that made you see stars.

★ You shuddered, warmth spreading from your chest to your core. Jesus, it felt soo good, his finger pistoning with abandon, your toes curling as he continued his sensual assault. Your hips bucking with the thrust of his wrist.

★ But, just as soon as it had begun, Johnny pulled his finger out with an obscene pop, your body immediately missing the sensation. You watch him with a pout as he brings his honied finger to his lips. He made a show of sucking your essence from the digit, his eyes never leaving yours.

★ “Delicious…” he purred darkly once he’d cleaned your juices from his finger.

•••

★ His hands gripped the soft globes of your ass firmly, and without a second thought, he was leaning back into the bed, lifting you up and over his face with ease.

★ “Johnny—!?”

★ you were now straddling his shoulders, your cunt perfectly poised over his watering mouth. He gazed up at you, his eyes dark with lust and hunger.

★ “Princess~?” He playfully mocked your tone, settling you more comfortably atop his face. Your thighs making the perfect earmuffs in this position.

★His nose notched the hood of your clit—and you let out a small yip from the contact. But, intrusively, you worried about his comfort. Were you too heavy? Could he breathe? You didn’t wanna bury him alive….

★ He felt you try and hold yourself up, and immediately pinned your thighs back down with a low growl. “Mh-mhh” he murmured a soft scolding into your skin. You weren’t goong anywhere, not on his watch. He was looking to drown between your legs. And he’d die a happy man while doing so.

★ Your fingers tangled in his short brown hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you rut your cunt against his face, practically see-sawing his chin and nose.

★ His cock throbbed almost painfully in his slacks as he licked and sucked at your clit, your flavor exploding on his tongue. Fuck, he really was willing to drown, and the thought only spurred him on, making him press harder, fucking you deeper with his tongue.

★ “Oh god—Johnny!” You mewled, your voice echoing off the walls of the lavish bedroom, unable to control your breathing as it came in short, sharp gasps. Chest heaving while the coil of tension in your belly wound tighter and tighter, you were so close…

★ Johnny’s hips bucked involuntarily as your moans reached a crescendo, your body going rigid against him.

★ With a muffled groan, he came hard in his pants, his vision went white behind closed eyelids. His hips jerked as thick ropes of cum painted the inside of his boxers, the wet heat seeping through the material. He continued to lap at your pussy through his orgasm, practically whimpering as he did so.

★ And then, shortly after, your orgasm came crashing over you. Your pussy clenching around Johnny’s tongue, rippling and spasming as you flooded and gushed into your lovers mouth.

★ You went limp above him. Your thighs falling open as you collapse back onto the bed, chest heaving and skin flushed a deep scarlet. Johnny emerged from between your legs, gasping for air and grinning like the cat that got the cream. He crawled up your body and crashed his mouth against yours, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

★ Johnny moaned in satisfaction, as if you were the finest wine he’d ever tasted.

•••

★ After cleaning up, you nestled into the blankets, still reeling from your orgasm—you had completely forgotten about…what was it that had you upset again…? A small, subconscious smile curled at your lips as you watch Johnny emerge from the bathroom, fresh and clean from the shower you took together. He shook his hair before running his fingers through it.

★ You can’t help but let out a small laugh as he winks at you, clearly pleased with himself. But he doesn’t stop there. “We’re going out.” He simply says, crawling back onto the bed to plant a kiss to your forehead.

★ “What? Johnny, I don’t really feel like—”

★ “Ah-ah!” He holds up a finger, cutting you off dramatically. “Put on something nice—something cute.” His tone was light but left no room argument.

•••

★ Half an hour later, you’re dressed in one of your favorite outfits, and Johnny is decked out in a tailored jacket, he looked you up and down, whistling while opening the door for you. Insisting on driving, of course.

★ During the entire drive he was giving you a running commentary about how fabulous you look. How lucky he was to have you in his life and a list of other genuinely sweet things he swore up and down to be true. And they were.

★ When the car came to a stop, you looked up at the familiar building with questioning look. It was a luxury boutique, the one he took you to on special occasions, specifically.

★ “Here…? But…there’s no—” he was quick to wave off your concern and confusion, already walking to your side to open your door. “No what? Need?” He asks while hooking elbows with you. “Who cares? After feeding me a meal like that—i’ve gotta return the favor, right?”

★ Johnny marches you inside like he owns the place, picking out outfits and accessories that make the staff scramble to keep up. “This? Perfect. This? Even better. Try them all. My treat.” He’s already swiping his card before you can argue, snapping a photo of you in a stunning dress and posting it to his socials with the caption: “It’s too easy loving this woman, I swear. I mean, how can you not? Just look at her.” Followed by three heart eye emojis.

•••

★ Next, he surprises you (again) by taking you to an exclusive rooftop restaurant, the kind with a view so breathtaking it’s almost as good as the food. The table is already set with your favorite drink, courtesy of Johnny’s connections. And the thought he put into this impromptu date really made your heart flutter.

★ He spends the night cracking jokes, telling ridiculous stories about his time on movie sets, and making sure you don’t think about anything except how much fun you’re having.

★ By the time dessert arrives—a towering confection of chocolate and gold leaf—he’s already uploaded another photo of you to his stories, tagging it with: “us after going to pound town ;)”

★ As the night winds down, Johnny leans back in his chair, smirking as he checks his phone. “Look at this—comments are blowing up. Half of them are jealous, the other half are madly in love with you. As expected. We win.”

★ Feeling much better now, you roll your eyes…but can’t help smiling. You truly appreciate his efforts, even if they were a bit…flashy and petty. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” You say with no real bite.

★ “Ridiculously in love with you,” he quips without missing a beat. Johnny reaches across the table to take your hand, his expression softening just enough to remind you why you fell for him in the first place.

★“And if anyone’s got a problem with that, they can take it up with my PR team.”

👽:🎤I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOUUUUUU🎶

[hederasgarden]

Behind Closed Doors

Summary: Sometime during the last few months things shifted between you and Scott, and your mutual dislike turned into an entirely different beast. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Reader Word Count: 2.3 K  Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Grad school AU. Unprotected PIV, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, and a little bit of mean/dominant Scott.  A/N: Thank you to @ryebecca @a-reader-and-a-writer and @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this over. 

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“Keep this up and that internship is yours,” Dr. Harding promises, flashing you an encouraging smile while she packs up her satchel. 

You can hardly contain your grin, biting your bottom lip to keep it from breaking into a full-blown smile. With only one internship spot available, every graduate student worth their salt was vying for the position, Scott included. You glance over your shoulder and, as expected, catch him scowling at you from across the lecture hall. 

Dr. Harding follows your gaze. “You’ll encounter plenty of Scotts in your career, but none of them will be half as good as you,” she assures you. “Just keep your head down and focus on doing great work.”

Scott lingers by the door as students file past him, and it’s only after the room empties that he finally slips out into the hallway. You know he’ll be waiting for you. A rush of anticipation makes your hands tremble, and you clasp them tightly to steady yourself.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” she encourages. 

You shift back on your heels and nod, feeling her supportive pat on your arm. 

“I won’t,” you lie.

The reality is that you paid entirely too much attention to Scott throughout the last two years of grad school and lately, he’s returned that attention tenfold.

At first, you kept an eye on him out of self-preservation after he snatched your chosen thesis project right from under you during your first year of grad school. You were too trusting then, swayed by his handsome face and charm. After that, you were determined to ignore him, but he dogged your every step, stealing your reserved time in the open labs and seizing every chance to undermine you in class.

By your second year, you got smarter, letting him believe he had the upper hand while you worked quietly behind the scenes. For every biting remark Scott directed your way, you responded with a falsely sweet smile. The first victory was securing the TA position with Dr. Davis — an opportunity Scott had boasted was his for the taking. Next, you managed to snap up all three professors Scott wanted for his thesis committee. That win felt especially satisfying, watching that deep flush crawl up his neck as he tried to rein in his temper. 

This dance was thrilling in a way you hadn’t expected. You never considered yourself competitive, but you were starting to realize you just hadn’t encountered anyone who could truly challenge you before. Now, competing for the highest grade in the classes you shared has become second nature, and stealing each other’s open lab time is a regular occurrence. But, sometime during the last few months things shifted, and your mutual dislike turned into an entirely different beast.  

The first time a fight with Scott ended with his mouth on yours, you froze – wide-eyed and too stunned to respond. He held your gaze easily, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. Scott was entirely confident until the silence stretched on, and you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his bright blue eyes. Even though it wasn’t your nature, you let him linger in those feelings, savoring the sight of him looking unsettled. It only lasted a moment and since then, you’d never seen anything but his usual cocky self-assuredness each time you ended up underneath him.

Unsurprisingly, you find Scott waiting for you in the hall. He’s wearing one of your favorite outfits, a white button-down shirt underneath a blue sweater that’s rolled up to his elbows. With one foot crossed over the other and his arms folded across his chest, he looks completely unbothered leaning against the wall. You ignore him and keep walking, fully aware of how much it irritates him when you deny him attention. Scott’s loafers squeak against the floor as he pushes off the wall to follow you. With his long legs, he quickly catches up, walking close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. The heady scent of his cologne tickles your nose and you inhale quietly. 

“You done playing kiss ass?” he asks.

“It’s called being a nice person,” you reply. “And, besides, we were just talking.”

He scoffs and moves in front of you, blocking you from continuing. He’s clearly still pissed that you outshone him in class earlier. You honestly didn’t mean to this time — it was just your eagerness to snag the coveted intern spot. But when you saw the intense, angry look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but keep going. Watching his jaw tighten and his pouty pink lips flatten into a firm line was fast becoming your favorite sight. 

“Not everyone wants to hear you talk," Scott growls. “You’ve been running that smart mouth all day, acting like you’re the star student.”

There’s something about how he talks to you, with that edge of annoyance and jealousy that makes your whole body tingle. 

“I was just answering the questions,” you say, equal parts thrilled and terrified when his expression darkens. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, grabbing your arm and yanking you into an abandoned office. 

The soft click of the door plunges the room into semi-darkness. The only light comes from the afternoon sun filtering through the shuttered blinds. It smells dusty and stale, but you don’t have time to dwell on that as Scott pushes you forward. Your knees collide with a wooden desk, and your hands shoot out to brace yourself against it. Scott rips your backpack from your shoulders.

“Scott, what —”

“I don’t want to hear you talk,” he growls.

He grabs the back of your neck and forces your cheek against the cool wood while his other hand caresses the swell of your ass over your dress. Nervous energy skitters down your spine when both hands disappear a second later, your mind working overtime to anticipate his next move. 

“Spread your legs,” he commands.

He hardly gives you enough time to comply before he's impatiently kicking them apart. The tickle of his fingers dragging up your inner thigh has your skin tingling in anticipation. He rubs you through your underwear, two fingers circling your clit until you grow damp enough for him to feel through the cloth. You circle your hips, eyes closing as you surrender to sensation only for them to fly open a moment later when he strikes your ass hard enough to jolt the desk. 

You tense and he chuckles, fingers continuing to tease you without providing any relief. Every time you start to relax he delivers another smack and soon enough you’re moaning, desperate little pleas falling from your lips. You want him to really touch you and sink those thick fingers inside like he’s done before but maddeningly, he doesn’t. Every part of you is warm and trembling. 

“Scott,” you exhale, pushing up on your forearms. 

You’re shocked that he lets you stand, but that melts away when he spins you to face him. His lips claim yours hungrily, his tongue nearly choking the breath from you. When he rips his mouth from yours you’re panting and he’s flushed. 

“Get on the desk,” he demands.

You scramble back, but he’s quick to step between your legs and grab the back of your thighs to help you up. He has your underwear off in a blink and sinks to his knees.  When his hot breath falls against the most intimate part of you, a surprised squeak escapes, melting into a low moan when Scott runs his tongue through your folds, lapping greedily at the taste of you.

It’s noisy the way he eats you out and you’re mortified by how wet it all sounds. You squeeze your eyes closed, threading your fingers through his hair as he continues to devour you. It feels undeniably good, better than anything a man has done to you before. Not that you had much to compare it to; you were too busy chasing your parents' expectations and trying to prove your own worth. 

“Please, oh please,” you whimper, your voice fizzling out when his tongue pushes inside your warmth. 

The hand around your hip slides down and Scott’s mouth leaves your cunt. You’re about to beg him to continue when his thumb and forefinger roll your clit, creating a deliciously painful pleasure that makes your body quake. Then his mouth is back on you, his thick tongue working together with his fingers. The coil in your belly is pulled taut and your skin tingles. You’re close and he seems to realize it, rubbing your bundle of nerves in an unrelenting, circular motion. It’s overwhelming and you don’t even realize that broken, needy sound is coming from you. If you were in your right mind you’d be an anxious mess about the idea of someone hearing the two of you but Scott has you all twisted up.

Part of you expects him to pull back and make you beg to come, but to your relief, he doesn’t stop. Instead, he seems to redouble his efforts and you peak with his name on your lips, almost missing his low groan. The muscles of your thigh tremble, your body overwrought but he works you through it all. When he finally pulls away you’re breathless and sated. You lay there, panting and overworked. For a moment you forget he’s even there, but then you hear his belt clink. You try to sit up but he’s quicker, shoving you back down.

“Think we were done already?” He asks. God, you certainly hoped not. “What?” He questions, “No smart remarks now?”

Before you can gather your wits he’s laying his body over yours and pushing inside. You gasp for breath when he lays his full weight on you, pressing you into the desk. There’s nothing for you to do but lay here and let him fuck you.

“Thought about this during class,” he grits out. “What do you think everyone would say if they saw you now? We both know you're not the good girl you pretend to be.”

“I am good,” you argue.

“I’m gonna make you be good,” he replies. His breath fans over the side of your face as he leans in close, his tone smug when he speaks again. “You like it when I talk to you like that?” 

Your lips part but the only sound that comes out is a long, low moan as he slows his pace to deepen his thrusts. He gropes your chest and hooks his fingers into the neckline of your dress to pull the fabric low enough to expose your lacy bra. 

“Did you wear this for me?” Scott asks, rolling his hips forward. You grasp his wrist and grunt, thighs tensing around his hips. “I’m keeping the underwear,” he pants. 

Even if you wanted to respond to him you can’t because his mouth is on yours the second he stops speaking. He feels indescribably good inside you and the delicious pressure he's building in your cunt makes you feel dizzy. You’d do anything he asked just to come and Scott seems to know it. He leans back and his pace slows until he’s completely still, his hips flush with yours. 

A needy whine rises in your throat at the sudden shift in pace. You need him to move and you lift your hips but Scott pins you to the desk easily. He tilts his head and stares at you, amused.

“You gonna let me come inside you this time?”

You shake your head, the no on your lips dying when Scott’s thumb strums your clit. Even during your first time together, he seemed to know how to play your body and today is no different. 

“No?” he questions. “See I think that you will, good girl.” That phrase — one you both love and loathe — has you clenching around him and Scott chuckles, sounding breathless. “Yeah, I got your number. Knew it from day fucking one.”

You keen and reach back to grasp the edge of the desk. When he starts fucking you in earnest you wrap your legs around Scott’s waist.

“Tell me, good girl. Tell me I can come inside you."

“Scott, please.”

“Please what?” he asks. His hair falls over his forehead as he leans down on his elbows and his mouth hovers inches from yours  “I know you wanna be my good girl.”

“I do,” you gasp.

“Then say it,” he demands. “Beg me.”

“Please, Scott. I want…” your voice trails off, mind working overtime to string words together. “I want you to come inside me.” The words come out in a rush, your face warm with humiliation.

Scott responds by curling his body over yours, driving into you hard enough to have the desk groaning. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and bury your face in the side of his neck. Praise spills from his lips, about how good you are for him and how you feel, tight and hot around him.

You peak just as he does, wave after wave of pleasure washing over your body. A low, almost pained sound escapes his clenched lips as he spills inside you. He gives a few more abortive, shallow thrusts and you clench hard around him, your moan mingling with his. You stay tangled together as you both find your breath again. Scott surprises you by brushing his lips over yours almost sweetly, his hand cradling the side of your face. 

“I’m going to think about this later,” he whispers. “Knowing I’ll be dripping out of you while you sit in our next lecture.”

His words have their desired effect and you look away, embarrassed and turned on again. You feel his fingertips trace your bottom lip. “Maybe next time I’ll come here. Hmmm.”

Your whole body warms, your chest brushing against his as you draw a breath. His clever words always leave you feeling this way, and for a moment, you wish he would be struck dumb. Clearing your throat, you lift your lashes to meet his gaze, a sweet smile curving the corner of your lips as an idea takes shape.

“I’ll let you do whatever you want,” you tell him, watching his blue eyes darken with lust and anticipation. “It can be your consolation prize after I’ve won the internship.”

[sundew199]

Doll Face

tags: Shanks x f!reader, cum play, oral m!recieving, facials, throat fucking

Kinktober day 10: cum play for @alt-er-love-requiem

!!minors dni!!

The floorboards creaked with your weight shifting side to side, hands behind your back with the sun from the porthole searing into your skin. He asked you to wait for him, needing to wrap up one last thing before joining you in his cabin.

You'd teased him earlier about looking stressed, in need of relief and well, Shanks took that seriously. Leaning over just enough to whisper in your ear all the naughty ideas he had running through his mind. Always the one to please, you nodded back to him, walking off with a purposeful sway in your hips just to sell the thoughts in his own mind.

Now, your stomach twisted and turned at the ideas he spoke to you, how he wanted to use you, play with you, see your pretty face when he's finally done having his fun. Shanks had women enamored with him and you were no exception, sex literally oozed off of him, like it commanded the room wherever he went. Men feared and boasted about the emperor, how his aura literally brought men to their knees. Women did the same, but not for the same reasons men talked about.

"You waited."

Looking up from staring off into space with the sound of his chipper voice, the broad smile wrinkling the ends of his scar and how oddly joyful he looked rather than aroused.

"Why wouldn't I?" Humming back with seduction, craning your neck out with each step he took closer to you, his shoes scraping the old wood boards.

"Thank you doll." Returning the same smile, voice warm and inviting like he was trying to throw you off for some reason. His only hand came out to stroke across your cheek, use his thumb to trace your bottom lip, examining you. "On your knees."

The command violently tugged at the knot in your stomach, forcing your eyes open and still being met with the sweetness in his face, conflicting with the implication of his words.

Doing as told, getting down on your knees in front of him, Shanks stepped forward, bringing you face to face with his crotch. There was a slight tent in the material and if you didn't already know how big he was then you would've assumed he was already fully hard. His hand came down to cradle the back of your head, admiring you from above and how compliant you were for him.

"Now if it's too much, you can always tell me to stop."

"I know."

"Good girl. Care to do the honors?" Letting his voice turn airy and light, close to whispering as he waited with anticipation for your deft hands to undo the barrier that were his trousers.

Trying not to show him how much those two certain words affected you and sent shivers down your spine, you scooted forward with both hands in front of you to snap the single button open, sighing with a moan as his cock sprung out. You were right in the assumption that he was only half hard, needing your fine skill to bring him all the way.

Pressing the tip to your lips, letting the small bead of pre-cum roll down from your bottom lip to your chin, you shot your eyes up slowly, eager to catch the reaction of the man. Shanks merely smiled coyly, moving the hand from the back of your head to hold one side of your jaw, sneaking his thumb to your lips to thumb your bottom one down.

"Wanna paint your pretty face doll." Moving his thumb away to let you do as you pleased, comfortable enough with letting you guide your own actions.

Taking in a sharp inhale, parting your lips to suction them around the very end of his cock, your tongue snuck forth to gather the continuously leaking pre. He groaned quietly at that, chest heaving deeply with intent to compose himself. You smiled the best you could back at him, moaning intentionally while also sneaking your hands down to cup and cradle your tits. Shanks saw and clenched his jaw, always having a thing for your perfect tits, liked watching them bounce as you rode him or when they'd jostle from taking his cock deep in your throat.

"Let me see them, sweetheart."

Another command that had you pressing your thighs closer together, wondering how the low deep voice could sway your actions so easily, make you comply like some animal listening to its handler. You liked it, there was so question about it that being ordered around by infamous man had you bending and begging. Shanks was aware of it, used it to his advantage when he wanted but never to the point of overuse.

Slipping your fingers underneath the thin strap of your tank top, you pushed the tight hugging fabric all the way down until it rested at your waist, tits free for his admiration. He sighed with a half smile, pushing his hips forward until more of his cock was disappearing into your mouth. It didn't give you enough time to fully relax your throat but a part of you liked the smidge of roughness that came with his impatience.

Humming delightfully around the shaft, taking him down a little past half way and coming off to suck around the head, repeating the motions enough until you were ready to take him down all the way. There wasn't much coming from his end, just heavy breaths and quiet groans, completely enraptured by the sight of you sucking his cock like it were a skill to be honed.

If he weren't so big and wide you may have been able to do more from the get go, but it took patience before you could press your nose all the way to his groin and let him rest his cock there for as long as he wanted. Knowing that's what he probably wanted, you worked one of your hands around the base, matching the speed of your mouth and dragging the saliva down all the way. His hips then twitched forward, shoving himself down a bit deeper than intended but nothing in you minded.

"Eager today huh?" Laughing a bit and swiping some of the saliva pooling down your chin away, swiping it over your painfully hard nipple, making you moan. Shanks purred at your reaction, deciding he wanted to be greedy now and take you for all you're worth.

Grasping the back of your head with a familiar tenderness, he held you still to switch the rolls, fucking down your throat. It was fast and rough, abusing the warmth and tightness that could compare to your pussy, using you like he always did and how you always wanted him too.

The noises increased in volume with each thrust, the deep breathing along with the grunts and groans were going straight to your cunt, squeezing your thighs together impossibly tight. Fuck it was so good, so messy and uncoordinated, how you preferred it sometimes over soft and sweet. Shanks tended to be selfish when it came to you, in more ways than one and thank god he wasn't shy to do so.

"Missed you doll, missed this." Abruptly confessing which wasn't unusual for him when he was like this, allowing a bit of his truer feelings to come forth.

You blinked the tears out of your eyes to look at him, seeing how the little droplets rolling down your cheeks spurred him on, holding the back of your head tighter and slamming his dick harsher down your throat. You moaned and whined around the flesh bruising your throat, finding the best way to convey how much you enjoyed being used for his pleasure. It was working to your advantage, noticing the pinched brows and parted lips releasing continuously trembling breaths from his lungs. For a moment, you swore he was going to cum down your throat, until his hand fell from your head and his cock left your mouth, his fist giving himself the last few pumps he needed before warm ropes of cum were landing on your face.

By habit, your mouth fell open and your tongue rolled out, catching some of the tangy release but leaving it be until he was finished. Luckily Shanks had enough decorum to avoid your eyes, aiming for his favorite spots, cheeks, mouth and chin. He laughed on a breath, lazily pumping just the head of his cock as the last of his cum squeezed out. Carefully, he took what was on his hands, leaning over to smear it on your nipples, pulling a surprised squeak out of you.

"So pretty doll face." Smugly declaring as he gathered whatever didn't land on your tongue on his fingers, proceeding to press against your tongue. "Swallow for me."

And you did, happily doing as you were told and going the extra mile to suck and clean his cum stained hands, keeping your eyes on his and watching how quickly his composure began to slip all over again. You were an easy weakness, and how could you not be with how complaint you were for one of the four emperors. Shanks smiled, taking his fingers back and walking past you to sit lay on the bed.

"I'll let you have a turn, if you want." Implying just what you were expecting, smiling like an idiot and coming off on the floor, stripping on your way there. As greedy as he could be, Shanks had no issue of letting you be as greedy as well, a metal agreement that benefit the both of you.

"Might be here a while." Standing off to the side of the bed, arrogant smile creasing your features.

"I've got all day sweetheart."

[gakukitty]

okay, ever since i read your fic about natsuki getting cockblocked and becoming a little feral when he finally does get in readers pants... i just gotta know what you think feral natsuki might be like, it's been on my mind for SO long!!

FERAL — ★ ! !

featuring . . . natsuki seba , fem!reader

content . . . HEAVY SMUT. feral! natsuki. mild breeding at the end. some spanking. kinda gross but could be worse. semi public sex.

ohhh… babe.. when i tell you i have been WAITING for this!!!!!! >.< i def wanna write more of him .. 😛

he’s so fed up with all of this— natsuki has had to watch and hear you giggle around with one of the others from the weapon’s department for far too long now. and the idiot’s blushing too— his cheeks are all warm, his lips curved up into a smile that matches yours as you lean closer. no, no… this just won’t do. you’re his girlfriend, no matter how much he’s got to do.

it seems that you got tired of waiting around for natsuki to be finished with the weapon he’s currently making— and have decided to make him jealous. give him something else to focus on.

and now he’s certainly focused on it. on the way you’re tilting your head, another chuckle escaping those pretty lips of yours as that other man makes some sort of an attempt at a joke. and when you lift a hand, lightly touching his shoulder— natsuki decides this weapon is finished. in just a few seconds, he’s already up and making his way to you.

before you can open your mouth to crack a joke of your own, natsuki’s got a firm hold on the back of your shirt. he tugs you up and out of your seat, his gaze boring into yours. yet, you stubbornly refuse to make eye contact— which has him practically fuming. he lets go of your shirt, grabbing your hand instead and tugging you out of the area. and that’s how you find yourself in a nearby storage closet.

natsuki doesn’t bother being careful with your clothes. the man tugs down your bottoms and basically rips your panties off, a finger already moving to slip between your folds. “dirty girl. you’re wet— i knew this was intentional.” natsuki grumbles, his breath hot against the back of your neck. he lifts his free hand, brushing your hair to the side before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. he’s so, so mean with the way he plays with your pussy— the tips of his fingers just barely brushing the sensitive spots before he pulls away. natsuki doesnt even let you plead for him to hold on before slipping one slim finger inside, followed by another.

soon enough, you’re bent over something— something you don’t bother paying attention to. you couldn’t, even if you wanted; thanks to the way natsuki’s cock is buried so deeeeeppp inside of you !! he’s thrusting so hard, so fast— it has you jolting against the surface you’re pressed against. his warm palm lightly massages your hip, before he lands a harsh slap! against the fat of your ass. “you like this? you like being a pain in my ass?” natsuki scoffs, moving a finger to jab the back of your shoulder. “bet you do. had soooooo much fun flirting.. with.. that,” he pauses, hips snapping against yours harder. natsuki relishes in the way your ass recoils, lips curving into a subtle smirk as he moves a hand to massage the flesh. he’s always been an ass guy, no matter how irritating you get. natsuki leans down, pressing a kiss to the skin behind your ear before whispering a few soft words. “answer me.”

oh, he was so evil for that— because the two of you both know that you can’t answer. your eyes are rolling around your skull like little marbles, your once smiling lips parted with little droplets of drool spilling out. snd dear natsuki wastes no time hesitating before shifting you slightly, his own lips catching yours in a hot kiss. his pace never slows, not even when his tongue finds yours. he exchanges spit with you, slight groans bleeding out between you both as your hips move against his. natsuki pulls away— not without pressing another few wet kisses to your lips and jaw, before he moves to press his forehead against your back. his hands clutch at your hips, soft huffs of warm breath brushing against your back as the subtle sweat from his forehead rubs onto your skin.

“so.. dirty, eh?” he muses, tone darkening. natsuki’s pace quickens, grasp on you tightening— and soon enough he’s spilling his load deeeeepppp into you. his hands clutch at your hips, making sure you’re thoroughly filled before his body slumps against yours.

© gakukitty please don’t copy my work , repost it and claim as your own , translate , or use it to train ai ♡

[mcflymemes]

ANYONE BUT YOU (2023) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

you still live at 28 fuckboy lane?

there's a reason why you're alone. no one can trust you.

i still think about the night we spent together.

these last few days really made me realize how much i miss you.

that night at your place, no matter how it ended, it was still pretty amazing.

so... you gonna kiss me now?

you'll always be my rock bottom.

okay, nuzzle my neck. get in there.

we are not together. we were faking it the whole time.

we have to kick it up a notch. make it feel like we're in the ga-ga stage.

you know, i feel really bad about that.

did you catch him measuring his dick with a ruler app?

you scared the shit out of me.

we're getting pretty good at faking it.

it doesn't matter how we found out.

permission to put my left hand on your right buttock?

okay, not in circles. it's not a magic lamp.

are you not wearing underwear?

we do not inherit the earth. we just borrow it from our creatures.

i have a better idea. you just let me do everything.

thanks for being so cool about all of this.

you want a coffee? it's the best n the world.

there's only one bed, but we hung a shower curtain in the middle.

hi. where's your bathroom?

i could have done it myself, but whatever. thanks.

thanks for not stealing my coat.

is that really a two person job?

you would let me die?

they think i'm throwing my life away.

no, that was rude. i apologize to anyone that was listening.

i don't know. i'm not good at this, sorry.

i'm from a different generation.

i'm not talking about love. i'm talking about dick.

all that matters is that we're together.

that's not me anymore. i'm free now. i'm deprogrammed.

no way, that man does not have a heart.

well, that didn't take long.

if i never ask you for anything ever again, can you please just lay off of me this weekend?

let's just have a moment to calm ourselves.

no one cares. no one can see us.

we were on a break, asshole.

either way, someone's lying to someone.

i must have really gotten under your skin.

you used none of those terms properly.

i cannot believe i just said that out loud.

i'm sorry. my life is a disaster right now.

look at this place. it looks like every serial killer reenactment documentary.

no matter how broken something is, there's always a way to fix it.

this whole thing is so new to me.

i don't really like labels, but i like you a whole bunch.

so are you going to ask me out now?

so if we were getting attacked by giant spiders, you would not be able to protect us?

you two know each other?

i'm going to go grab a drink. door's that way if you're looking to sneak out. i know that's your thing.

i'm going to get a drink and toast to never seeing you again.

how crazy is it that we're on the same plane?

why do so many of us feel stuck?

you don't even play tennis.

we're fine if he just stays away from me.

you're such a romantic.

i was hoping you'd come. i wanted to message you, but i didn't know how you'd feel about hearing from me.

they're also a little worried how you're gonna react to all this.

you have a little something in your teeth.

we need to come up with a game plan.

you are so terrible at this.

it's harder than you think.

they know i would never go out with a guy like you.

we just suck face in front of everybody.

you're calling me a fuckboy like it's an insult? i own that shit.

let's just be affectionate. i know it's a foreign concept for you.

you were the one who said there's a thin line between love and hate.

i think it was more of a euphemism for crying alone.

i definitely didn't hate you.

last night was the first thing i haven't regretted in a long time.

i love the weird way you stick your hand down my pants.